My Diary. Part 2. Wonders of Telephone Medicine.

Hello everyone!

I continue to publish my diary and the history of my illness. My thoughts, feelings and actions. I really hope that these lines will help someone.

Part 2

O goddess sing what woe the discontent
Of Thetis’ son brought to the Greeks; what souls
Of heroes down to Erebus it sent,
Leaving their bodies unto dogs and fowls
Whilst the two princes of the army strove,

King Agamemnon and Achilles stout.
That so it should be was the will of Jove,
But who was he that made them first fall out?
Apollo; who incensed by the wrong,
To his priest Chryses by Atrides done,

Sent a great pestilence the Greeks among;
Apace they died, and remedy was none.
For Chryses came unto the Argive fleet,
With treasure great his daughter to redeem,
And having in his hands the ensigns meet,

That did the priestly dignity beseem,
A golden sceptre and a crown of bays,
Unto the princes all made his request;
But to the two Atrides chiefly prays,
Who of the Argive army were the best.

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It turns out that some works should not be read, but listened: an unusual size verse of the Iliad, which I once could not master to the end with my eyes, sounds like paradise music to my ears.
I'm still on the "red". I found a long waistcoat on the Internet, now I sit, I knit my anxiety into it and listen, I listen...

Wonders of Telephone Medicine

Tomorrow the last "red" chemotherapy. Because of low leukocytes, the dropper had to be postponed for a week. My organs of hematopoies said that I am an inconsistent hysteric woman, who can not figure out what she wants for the third month - to lay leukocytes or to up them. And that they refuse to participate in this mess, and the neypogen and the decoction of oats I can shove into myself far away and not fool the head anymore.
After a week's delay, blood counts not only did not increase, but, on the contrary, fell. The doctor who makes me a dropper told me to add more neypogen and move the chemotherapy date. The remote consultant, suggested reducing the dose of "red", injecting it tomorrow, and returning to neypogen after a few days. Apparently, I should make a decision again. God! How am I tired of treating myself!

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I wrote a letter to the Israeli oncologist and, not hoping for an answer, began to look for a third opinion in Moscow. A long chain of calls took me to the Very Steep Doctor-Administrator. As I was told, significantly lowering the voice, Very Steep and Very High, Who Knows Everything. In my opinion, after the bell, a piece of paper with a phone number was supposed to be burned. In the face of such greatness, my problem suddenly seemed an insignificant trifle, but the fear of nullifying the results of chemotherapy or catching febrile neutropenia proved to be more awkward, and I called. Very Cool Doctor-Administrator chewed something. Having kindly listened to my babble, he showed miracles of perspicacity, instantly penetrating into the problem and issuing a decision: "You need a good chemotherapist." "Yes, yes, it is very necessary! - I exclaimed with hope in my voice. "Since November!"
Very Steep tinkled with a fork, something rustled and then he dictated a number to me. A good chemotherapist turned out to be a lady with a pleasant voice. Oh, she was glad to help a person from Very Cool Doctor. She listened to my story about the alternatives under consideration and immediately proposed a third option: inject neyugen today, and make a dropper tomorrow, a full dose and no longer postponing.

Still, in Russian fairy tales there is the truth of life - I saw myself clearly at the crossroads of the Prophetic stone. "Go left ..." and all that.

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The third option seemed dubious - even to me, whose education in the field of chemotherapy was limited to instructions on the use of medications, it was known that the neypogen is not used directly before the course of chemotherapy. I shyly clarified whether I understood the lady with a pleasant voice correctly. The lady confidently said that it is absolutely correct. I even more shyly referred to the instructions to the Neupogen. The lady hesitated and said that she expressed her personal opinion, but in general, she is not a chemotherapist, and her recommendations, of course, would be worth reasserting. I doomedly said "thank you" and hung up. That's all, a dead end.
The fairy tale ended unexpectedly well: at 9 pm the oncologist from Assuta answered me. She agreed with the suggestions of my retired chemotherapist, and tomorrow I'm going to drip a reduced dose of "red." I will lie and think about the fact that only sex is anonymous and by the phone, but not treatment, while such desperate fools as I create demand, there is always an irresponsible subscriber at the end of the wire, which will surely and wrongly satisfy this demand.

I apologize for the possible mistakes that arose in the translation. There are idioms that are difficult to translate into another language.

You can read all parts of the diary here:

1. https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-1-farewell-to-my-hair
2. https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-1-friends-mama-it-started
3. https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-1-israel-hospital
4. https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-1-bells-relatives-about-luck
5. https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-1-presence-of-spirit-what-i-do-not-need-lighthouses-and-
6. https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-2-god-forbid-if-you-will-meet-it-again-you-have-not-seen-me-and-