Update, also Why Doctor's Suck

So Dad was finally diagnosed after months of being in and out of doctor's offices, waiting for each next appointment, each next test, and each next result. All the tests came back negative and seemingly that's all the doctor's cared about.

It didn't matter that he couldn't sleep because of stomach cramps, and he couldn't eat for the nausea he was suffering from, or that when he finally could force down some food he could only take in a few bites without running to the bathroom to throw up. They gave him antacids. "Lost 20, 30, 40, 50, 80 pounds? Percuilar. Have a Tums."

When Doctor "Why-Do-You-Want-To-Be-Sick" finally found the tumor there was a flurry of activity. My dad was sent, the following day, to his GP who set up an appointment for him to meet with a surgeon (why this medical middle man was needed is anyone's guess), but he felt that the tumor would respond well to surgery. The day after that shuffle and jive a doctor and a nurse showed up at my folks home to review any questions an concerns my folks may have. After spending weeks between scheduled tests and appointments and being pawned off to the next specialist this was jiffy service indeed. The best part... they brought an insurance liason with them! Hmmm... wait... are they there to help my dad or protect themselves?

Day or so later dad meets with the surgeon who tells him that the tumor is larger then he thought (7cm) and in a hard to reach spot and he didn't think surgery was going to be an option (so much for Mr. GP's opinion), but that dad needed to have a PET scan before they could rule it out. Dad had the scan the next day and my mom went to the office that took the scan, got the results, and then shuttled the disc over to the surgeon's office so he could peruse the results and then get back to them. A week later... no word.

Mom's pretty pissed by this point so she calls the surgeon's office today. The receptionist was very helpful... no the surgeon couldn't take mom's call, but yes he had looked at the results (yesterday and today). Mom pointed out that he was supposed to call with his diagnosis, the receptionist didn't know what to say to that other then the surgeon was transfering dad to an oncologist. "So surgery is not option then," mom asked. "Well, I wouldn't say that," the receptionist replied. Of course you wouldn't! Why give a difinative answer when you can pass the buck, again!

So here we are, in a strange limbo place. Limbo sucks.

Apparently neither mom nor dad figured surgery would be an option. I was hoping it would be as it's the least harmful option (cutting into the body=least harmful option. How weird is that?). Dad is taking percocet now and sleeps all the time. He wakes up from time to time to eat some chicken soup. Mom is getting angier and angier and I'm getting pretty pissed myself.

The tumor disappearing would bring this unhappy tale to a short end, wouldn't that be nice? Right now I'd settle for him gaining a little weight back, a return maybe of his appetite, an ease to the pain, barring all those, how about a doctor who gives a crap?