Step one. I go see my doctor, who tells me I have to have some lab work (blood tests) done. They don't do blood work where the doctors are. No. The doctors give you a slip and send you off to one of many QD locations throughout SoCal.
Step two. I take my slip to the QD of my choice (which, incidentally is in Sherman Oaks because the one in Van Nuys is filthy, crawling with people and the nurses there are ill-trained). QD is where they actually DRAW my blood. It is approximately 30 miles from my doctor. There is one person who runs the whole show. She signs you in, punches in your information, calls your name and draws your blood.
Step three. The lady at QD sends my blood to a THIRD facility which then runs the test the doctor ordered for it.
Step four. Meet back at the doctor's office two weeks later to find out if you're still cancer free.
It is a long and mindless process BUT, in the far recesses of my mind, I truly want to believe that there is SOME purpose to it. That it truly does help something.
We completed steps 1-3 several weeks ago. We drove 30 miles to Arcadia to complete step four today. We went to meet with my doctor to find out if I was still cancer free.
Our doctor walks in - our oncologist - and informs us that there has been a mixup and that my cancer test was never performed. I needed to go back to QD, get my blood drawn again and they'd have the results in......ROUGHLY 14 days. Medico.
This pretty much puts a downward spiral on my day since I have a problem with needles. I tell my doctor I'm thinking about visiting a hypnotist to overcome my problem. She laughs at me and tells me to just look away.
Sure....sure.....I'll just look away. And since I'm claustrophic, if I ever find myself being buried alive, I'll just close my eyes and pretend I'm under my covers. I'm sure it'll be just fine. Probably not a deep rooted psychological problem anyway. I'm probably just being a baby. It has nothing to do with that cold steel needle sliding under my flesh and puncturing my vein, sucking my life blood up into it's vast plastic tube and then sliding it's proboscis out against my pink flesh like teeth on a fork.
YUCK!!!!!!!
Dr. Ye also let us know that my white blood count was low BUT that it was probably about normal for me. She explained that "since you, since you, uh, you know - had all those ddddrugs put into your system that, uh, your bone marrow is a little weaker. WELL, not WEAKER, but, you know, not as strong as say, Jade's....or mine. Yours is fine, it's just probably a little lower and that's just where it'll be from now on, so, yeah".
"Well, doctor, does that in any way compromise his immunity?"
"No, no. He should be fine. He should be fine. He just had so much of that - those drugs in him - they're lower but they're not bad. You should write a script about dog people. Like Best in Show. Those people are crazy. That movie was good."
We left.
We drove around Arcadia for a while, wondering if we could ever live there. We looked at houses and imagined burning down parts of them, rebuilding others. We stumbled into a Pill Hill type neighborhood - lots of doctors with inferiority complexes, trying to compensate for whatever with big houses made from, what? Money? I don't know. THIS house, was made completely of marble:
You'll notice how it strangely contains the same visual texture as a mausoleum. You'll also notice that the dude drives a Corolla. If you live in that house and you're driving a Corolla, you may as well be driving a 1986 station wagon.
We drove.
We looked at a few more houses and talked about how it's never smart to have the nicest house in the neighborhood - it loses it's value, you know? Well, apparently THIS GUY took it to heart - three doors down from the mausoleum rests this little gem.
Very nice. Maybe we'll buy it.
And then, what neighborhood would be complete without a school?
Clem: Are you stalking me?
Joel: No.
Clem: But you wouldn't tell me even if you were, would you?
Joel: No. That's the oldest trick in the stalker book.
Clem: There's a stalker book?
Listen Clem, have I got good news for YOU. THERE'S A WHOLE SCHOOOOOOOL!!!!!!
In the end we decided that maybe Pasadena would be a better fit. Driving around we (well, Jade really) realized that Aracadia was sort of a breeding ground for Asian people and Asian people frighten Jade. She can barely even eat at Panda Express without breaking out in cold sweats and you know what? I can't judge. We all have our fears.
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