We waited about two hours for a confused UCC physician to see me, who said that my records showed that I had gone to I.R. two days previously to have fluid drawn. Nevertheless, she agreed to examine me ultrasonically to see if there were fluid she could access with a needle; she found an accessible pocket and drained some three liters of fluid. I would guess that there are another ten liters where that came from. After I was dismissed, and we went home and had lunch, I discovered that the UCC had forgotten to disconnect my Mediport. In a lamentable mood, I paid my second-- this time gratuitous-- trip of the day to the UCC.
When I returned home, I worked on this book via Skype with the book designer and editor and suddenly developed chills so severe in the 90- degree summer temperature that I had to don a heavy cashmere jacket, ski parka, stocking cap, and Arctic gloves to stop shaking. My temperature shot up to 101.9 degrees. Partly because of dread of another long, uncomfortable wait, I delayed going back to the UCC. Also, I was trying to think through whether dying of an infection might not be as good an alternative as I am likely to get.
I concluded that I don't know anything about dying of an infection and reluctantly went back to the UCC about 7 PM. About three hours later a doctor saw me, who recommended that I be hospitalized and begin intravenous antibiotics. In spite of my having had an adverse reaction to a penicillin drug in the past, she recommended using a penicillin-related drug. When I asked what would happen if I got an anaphylactic reaction, she said, "We will intubate you."
After signing a form indicating that I was acting against MSKCC's advice, I got a prescription for non-penicillin antibiotics, and we went home. Altogether, my three trips to the UCC had involved about eight hours of waiting around, with pain mounting as fatigue deepened. As I finish this post on Father's Day morning, I have gotten a little rest, and I have only a mild fever.
