Columbo and Vinny

My husband and I consider ourselves to be part Italian.  For many years, he worked with a woman whom we referred to as his “work wife.”  She was Italian and adopted us into her large Italian family.  We were fiercely loved and well fed.

There are, as with my Irish ancestors, many types of Italians.  Enter Columbo and Vinny. 

Columbo was a rumpled, seemingly inept police lieutenant who investigated murders.  The crime drama television series ran in the 1970s and starred Peter Falk as Lieutenant Columbo.    Columbo ALWAYS got his man (or his woman).  His signature tag line was, “Just one more thing.”  He drove his victims absolutely crazy with his never-ending, “Oh, sir!  (Or ma’am) Just one more thing.”

Then there is the movie, “My Cousin Vinny,” with Joe Pesci playing the part of Vincent, AKA Vinny, Gambini.  Among the many classic scenes in the movie is the one where Vinny’s girlfriend, Mona Lisa Vito, is ragging on him for not marrying her while her biological clock is ticking away.   Vinny is trying to defend his cousin and his friend from a crime they didn’t commit, and things aren’t going well.  Vinny’s response (edited, since I want to keep my blog G-rated) is, “Is there any more sh** we can pile onto the outcome of this case???  Is it possible???”

Lately, I’m beginning to feel like I have Columbo on one side and Vinny on the other.  Another symptom, another test, another “finding” on my scans.  The reports often read, “It might be ABC, but XYZ can’t be ruled out.”  My medical team has expanded to include oncology, neurosurgery, neurology, pulmonology, and gastroenterology.  Orthopedic surgery is on standby.  I’ve probably forgotten at least one specialty, but I’m sure they’ll be calling me soon to talk about “just one more thing.”

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m grateful for each specialty, but I don’t know who the quarterback on my medical team is.  For example, I’m supposed to contact my doctor if my temperature reaches 100.4 degrees.  Which doctor?  Primary Care?  Oncology?  Dermatology?  (Just kidding about that one.  So far, I haven’t needed that specialty.)  The fevers don’t happen during office hours.  Oh, no, they spike at 9 pm on a Saturday night after I’ve been vomiting all day.  I end up calling the doctor I’ve seen most recently and getting connected with whomever is on call.   They refer me to Urgent Care and off I go to get IV fluids and whatever meds they think will help. 

Recent swallowing issues and a persistent cough have been added to my list of concerns.  Is my cancer progressing to some new spot in my body?  Maybe, but maybe not.  Are my symptoms getting better or worse?  It depends on the day.   It’s like playing the arcade game of “Whack-a-mole” where one symptom gets better but then another gets worse.  This arcade is really getting tiresome, and, unlike Chuck E. Cheese, they don’t serve pizza here.  I probably couldn’t swallow it anyway.

So, that’s where we are right now.  My calendar is filling up with appointments for “Just one more thing.” This leaves me wondering, “Is there is any more (you know what) we can pile onto the outcome of this case?” 

Fortunately, the good days still outnumber the bad ones.  And if things get really bad, I’ll pull out my copy of “My Cousin Vinny,” and laugh ‘til it hurts. 

Carol

Cancer has progressed to my bones.  I pray that it never enters my soul.