[MOO-e een-kee-ET-ah, very worried] Ryan has a mass in his nasal cavity. We had it biopsied today. That was fun. Actually, it wasn’t too bad. The doctor was great, very gentle, numbed the inside of his nose topically, asked if Ryan felt anything. A lovely man, by all evidence to date, a good doctor. Ryan is a trooper, to put it mildly. I know he’s worried – he asked tonight, "What is a biopsy?" I told him it’s where they take a bit of tissue to see what the fungus is all about before they operate.
Yeah, gotta operate. Soon.
We went to the doctor because he breathes through his mouth, always has. A few months ago, he went off all the asthma meds he’s been on since about 4 years old. His breathing is fine – at least his lungs are fine. But he is still always congested, so we thought it must be a structural problem. So off to the doctor…
I made appointments with two doctors, highly recommended on the Costa Rica Living Group: Dr. Ariel Miremberg Rubenstein at CIMA and Dr. Luis Arce Rodriguez at Clinica Catolica. Dr. M scoped Ryan’s nostrils (looks surprisingly like Hal’s colon: pink and slippery.) Except for a couple of polyps, two gigantic adenoids, gigantic turbinates (the finger like things that run from your nose down into the back of your nasal cavity) and a deviated septum. Definitely need surgery to fix those. $4,000, including the hospital.
I can’t help it: I’m fixated on how much things cost and what you get for your money. Makes me a good buyer agent. Like that’s doing me a lot of good these days. Besides, the doctor quotes the price to you right there. I’m always impressed by that. Anyway, Dr. M also said to get a CAT scan to make sure there was nothing else going on. That was last Tuesday.
Last Thursday, at our second opinion, Dr. Arce Rodriguez basically repeated the procedure, diagnosis and request for a CAT scan. We did the scan that day at Clinica Catolica. ($200. Practically free.) Today we went back to Dr. AR, picking up the CAT results. He was visibly not happy when he saw them. I hate that look.
He scoped Ryan again and found some of the ugliness: something not pink and slippery. As we were staring at it on the screen, Dr. AR turned to me and said, "It looks like a fungus." That was good news to me. In my chelation zeal, I have come to know that fungus (basically Candida or yeast) plays a huge role in everything wrong from autism to zits. I know what to do about fungus: GSE, biotin and activated charcoal and zero sugar in any form.
By eerie coincidence, my first box of goodies arrived today at the correo: the chelation bible, Amalgam Illness, and supplements including the three above. So yeast is on the way out. Plus we added a little baking soda to the neti routine. Baking soda is good for everything.
I’ve always felt like the next right thing was happening even when the decision-making process seemed completely irrational. Choosing my college ("It looks like a college, Mom," was the best explanation I could come up with but really it just felt right), trying theatre, moving to NYC, then Key West, meeting Hal. The first time I saw Hal, I remember thinking he was the best looking man I’d ever seen and that was two years before I met him. Then we eloped, adopted… I got into real estate. None of it planned… Jeez, we moved to Costa Rica after about 15 minutes consideration.
That’s how it was with Ryan stopping his meds: we talked about it, then did it. Thank God or I don’t think we would have ended up here now. I’ve learned to trust this instinct about the next right thing. I’m going to trust it now.
Biopsy results are Wednesday. Since you asked: the biopsy was $50. Yeah, unbelievable. The other thing is he snips out a couple of tiny pieces of Ryan, puts them in a plastic specimen jar and tells us to cart it over to pathology. And I have the CAT scan sitting on my bureau – you keep everything and cart it back and forth. You lose it, you pay for it again. The doctor’s visits are $60 each, even including all the scopes and snips. Probably because they don’t have to have another building and staff for record-keeping and carting stuff around.
I’ll keep you posted. Meanwhile, I’m doing the zen thing and being here now. Knowing it is what it, and that giving into irrational fear (is there any other kind?) will not help anyone or anything. When I used to get nervous before going on stage, I’d tell myself, "In two hours, this will all be over." OK: in two weeks, the operation will be over and Ryan will be on the mend. I can stay sane for two weeks.
When we were getting ready to adopt, waiting on baby #1, we made the mistake of telling people. At least one in five people told me adoption horror stories. One woman, an esthetician who was waxing my legs at the time, told me a long involved story about how her sister (pour on hot wax) adopted a boy (press the cloth firmly to the hairy leg) who later went on a killing spree (rip, pat furiously) with a machine gun (apply baby powder, repeat). I endured this through both legs, front and back. Thank God, they are short. Still, I was shaking when I left.
When my neighbor, business partner and dear friend Penny was pregnant, she said people couldn’t stop telling her about their or their friend’s miscarriages and deformed babies…
So… zen or no, I’m freaked out enough. Don’t tell me any stories except short ones with happy endings. And maybe you could do a couple of things? Picture Ryan all healthy, that big fabulous smile, breathing through his nose (yes, I want everything.) And please say a little prayer. If you don’t believe in a Higher Power, just offer up words of encouragement to the universe. Thank you.