Spent the day in The Park with Mom for medical follow up. We met “Robo Doc” to see if she is a candidate for “robotic assisted laparoscopic bypass”, which would be much less invasive than traditional bypass surgery.
Alas, no robots – she passed the pulmonary function test, but since one lung must be deflated for “robo-bypass”, Robo-Doc (who is just as cute as a tall, scrawny, geek button) said that with her pulmonary hypertension, it would put too much stress on her heart. It shall be traditional double bypass.
My regular readers might remember my last run in with Park Logic. Today? Another Park Logic Moment:
Robo-Doc said the biggest risk during bypass is pneumonia, driving the 4-5% possibility of fatality from the procedure. Her chance of getting pneumonia more than doubles if she keeps smoking* before/after the surgery – so Robo Doc virtually demanded that she quit smoking for 2 weeks prior to surgery. That meant no smokes starting today since she’ll need to be cut soon.
He prescribed Chantix. She immediately raised concerns about side effects, based only on info she’s seen on television. “That stuff messes with your brain, doesn’t it?”. He explained that it satisfies the craving without the nicotine, that he’s had many patients successfully quit using the drug, and that he felt the side effects were less threatening than those from smoking prior to surgery.
In the car, as we headed to fill the prescription, she started whining about not wanting to deal with Chantix – the strange dreams (one potential side effect) would drive her batty**. i helpfully pointed out that the side effect of smoking was that it jacked her chance of complications (including death) from bypass to over 10%.
Thinking “Woo-Hoo! Take that! Logic rocks!”
At the pharmacy, we learned that this particular drug is not covered by her new insurance plan. Mom suggested we head home and call Robo-Doc back to see if he had a Plan B. Thinking quickly despite the lack of sleep and caffeine, i asked the pharmacy tech “how much?”. $117.62. My charge card was out in a flash, drugs in my hand and we were on our way before Mom could finish her protest statements.
She offered to pay me back, but of course i declined. And again being the helpful daughter that i am, grinned at her and said “Besides, now you’ll feel guilty if you don’t use this stuff. Paybacks are hell, ain’t they Momma?”
Thinking “SLAM! DUNK! I am a logic MACHINE!”
Still complaining about the cost of the demon medication, i once again went to my Big Bag O’Logic and reminded her that she spent $160 on four cartons of cigarettes the last time i took her to the cardiologist.
Thinking “DOUBLE SLAM, BAY-BEE!!! I RUN RINGS AROUND YOUR LOGIC!”
We headed out for a late breakfast before i took her home. i was feeling pretty good, having scored some serious logic points. Ordering a healthy breakfast (Egg Beater omelette, fruit instead of fried potatos, english muffin instead of gravy/biscuits), Mom went for her usual: Two eggs, basted in butter, 3 slices of bacon, 2 biscuits with a bowl of sausage gravy. Yes. i said “Bowl”. i said “Gravy”. When asked about the breakfast potatos, she said “I’ll skip those – the doctor said I need to start watching the fat in my diet”.
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* Mom has been smoking for roughly 65 years. Current rate is about 3 packs/day. On her “pulmonary function test” results, amongst the demographic stats such as age, weight, etc. was a note: “98 Pack Years”. Something akin to “Dog Years” i suspect. i’m surprised it was that low… she must have lied…
** i get “Nyquil Psychosis” after dosing myself for 3 days. i start to have amazing dreams – sometimes “Hostel”-like mad slasher flicks, sometimes hallucinogenic road trips! Almost makes me look forward to going to bed when i’ve got a head cold!
Trailer Park Refugee 
