Carol has ordered a cheeseburger but I am famished and am eyeing a small t-bone steak and a bowl of French onion soup. Our day out is to the bank, the grocery store where we accomplish a “short list” of grocery shopping, and, most important, a doctor’s appointment.

So today I learn from my primary doctor, Dr. Michael Boschek,that I will be scheduled soon for iron transfusions and an abdominal paracentesisa, a procedure to remove the fluids (ascites) from the abdomen by needle puncture. Hopefully, this procedure will drain the 18 pounds of fluid that have been building in by abdomen and threatening my entire breathing diaphragm.

If successful, the procedure will eliminate the shortness of breath I am experiencing and ease the expansion of my stomach. The problem is common with cirrhosis of the liver patients. Many patients routinely undergo the procedure several times in the course of treatment.

The iron transfusion is to elevate red corpuscles so that my oxygen levels will improve. It is a two hour procedure and similar to the blood transfusion I had recently. My low anemia levels probably show up in the fatigue, shortness of breath, even the spasms in my legs and the abnormal need I have to eat quantities of ice. (?)

Carol’s cheeseburger is a bust with too much salt on the fries and my steak arrives but it is dry.  The grilled onions I ordered arrive several minutes after the main course and the entire meal is cool. So my treat is mainly a bust also and this, with the plan outlined by Dr. Boschek only an hour ago is not making my day any better.

An elderly woman directly behind me finds it necessary to contact a friend following her meal, by cell phone. The friend is apparently deaf or isn’t paying attention to the conversation, making it necessary to repeat sentences several times—loudly.

Another patron has tied up the wait staff with a tale of lost keys, missing since yesterday when she and three other ladies had lunch. The keys apparently are lost somewhere between a table near where Carol and I are seated, and a handicap spot in the parking lot. When we left, the keys were still missing and the wait staff anxious to get onto something else .

But Carol and I have had an opportunity to discuss the decision I had made to undergo the two procedures Dr. Boschek discussed with me earlier in the morning. We are in agreement in my choices.

I m assigned a short list of groceries found in shelves or counters near the front door while Carol takes on the main job of shopping the vast grocery aisles. When my chore is completed, I sit on a bench near the check out counter, catching my breath and waiting for Carol. 

We are home awaiting the telephone calls that will set the suggested procedures into motion. I will reacquaint myself with Dr. Van Strothers, an oncologist with whom I had treatments in the early stages of my ordeal. He will do the iron transfusion.

Dr. David Carron will be tasked with the more involved paracentesisa procedure which will drain the ascites internally into the general venous blood system by running a plastic tube from the abdominal cavity, under the skin of the chest, into the right internal jugular vein of the neck.

. The procedure should be completed within a half hour but I am waiting even more details at this writing.