Don't Say That Word!

I visited my urologist the other day.  Like so many of my medical providers, my urologist has hundreds of patients, so I actually met with his Nurse Practioner. (NP)  With other providers it's a Physician's Assistant (PA), or even, sometimes, the actual doctor.  I don't give it any nevermind because I'm sure that the NP or PA (should it be P'sA?  It's like the plural for RBI.  Shouldn't it be RsBI? I digress, which is my wont) or MD has notes somewhere that everyone contributes to, and if not I have my memory (which is still decent, Allah/Xenu/Vishnu/Jesus be praised).  

My NP assumed a somewhat somber tone, and told me my PSA was 8.98.  Since I'm medicated for my Benign Prostate Hyperplasia (BPH), that  8.98 is doubled for reference purposes, meaning it's almost 19.  

This is where people get nervous and begin to be careful about what they say and what words they use.  And what's the word everyone stays away from?  Yep, Cancer.  That Word.  Etymonline.com says:

Old English cancer "spreading sore, malignant tumor" (also canceradl), from Latin cancer "a crab," later, "malignant tumor," from Greek karkinos, which, like the Modern English word, has three meanings: a crab, a tumor, and the zodiac constellation represented by a crab. 

First, let's clarify:  I don't know if I have That Word.  As a Practicing Pragmatist, the word Cancer doesn't bother me.  Words like "audit", "dentist", and "gunshot wound" bother me much more.  But I have friends who say "Don't say that!" as if the mere utterance of That Word summons the great Cancer Ghoul from the Underworld to smite me.  Right.  

I want to be sensitive to those friends and medical professionals who shy away from saying That Word, so I play along.  Those who are all right with it get the fully leaded version.  Those who are superstitous get unleaded.  

Nobody knows yet whether I've got That Word.  As mentioned previously in this space, we're gonna do some tests.  We'll start with an MRI (which I had 2 years ago) because it will tell them more than a physical examination ("Assume the position" is always a fun part of any urologist visit).  And because nothing is certain, even with high-resolution MRIs, a biopsy of the offending gland is probably next up.  That might be more definitive.  Or not.  

And MRIs are pretty easy so long as you don't have a fear of confined spaces or noises more suited to sinking pylons into bedrock.  Unless, of course, you have a pacemaker.  Then things get "complicated".  In the old days, a pacemaker ruled out MRIs, full stop. But 15 or so years ago they developed a pacemaker that could be turned off (or, more accurately, into a standby mode that would pace if required), then turned back on.

You'd be amazed at the number of radiologists and their assistants who don't know this.  They say "Oh no, you can't have an MRI.  Sorry."  And I try to be polite and say "Where have you been for the last 15 years?  Call the Medtronic boys/girls and they'll set things up."  But I can't say it that way even though I'd dearly love to, with some profanity thrown in for good measure.  I flash my pacemaker card that shows that my device is MRI-friendly.  Things get better from there.  

But it gums up the process.  Most people could get an MRI scheduled with no trouble.  I, on the other hand, have to coordinate another party, who is pretty booked up (or there aren't enough of them).  And while you're wondering if you have THAT WORD, any delay is troubling. 

Which leads me to another thing, and I'll get into that later.  Gotta run now--got those afternoon meds to administrate...