Have I said, often enough, that I'm learning a whole lot more about patience than I ever wanted to? Have I said, often enough, that the pace of medicine--for all its wondrous advances--can seem to move glacially slow at times?

No? Well, let me say those things yet again.

I have no right to complain, really--especially because I'm seeking a newer treatment, and am one of the lucky few (so far) to receive this treatment off-trial. When you're blazing a trial, well, you gotta expect some slow going as you chop through thickets of standing brush. You've also gotta be careful you don't sink the machete into your thigh while you're clearing that brush.

That's why I will now be seeing a fifth oncologist since my original diagnosis--this one in Missoula. I'm thinking, after this, I should be able to open my own oncologist rating and referral service.

Specifically, I'll be seeing the oncologist in Missoula on September 17th, as a consult on the Bexxar treatment; if all goes well (and I have no reason to assume it won't), I'll schedule the Bexxar treatment to begin shortly after--by the end of September, I hope.

Now, this all comes because, as far as I can tell, I'm the first person to receive Bexxar off-trial in Montana. My local cancer center has administered the treatment several times, but for anyone who receives it off trial, the FDA requires a highly sensitive additional scan that's not required for people receiving the treatment on trial. Unfortunately, the piece of equipment they need for this (more on that in a moment) isn't installed yet, and won't be for several months.

You see the irony in all this, if you've been reading about my adventures from Day One. If I were in a trial--which I was kicked out of as my first choice--I could do the exact treatment I want right here at home.

Still, I thought I was headed to Nebraska to do the treatment, but felt I should at least call Missoula before hitting Travelocity and booking plane tickets to Husker country.

And you know what? Making contact with the nuclear medicine facility in Missoula has been quite fun.

(SFX: Phone ringing)
Missoula Nuclear Medicine Facility (MNMF): Hello?
Me: Hi! My name is (insert name and five-minute explanation of my situation).
MNMF: Okay.
Me: My question is, do you have a high-energy columnator? (At this point, I feel as if I should hold my pinky against my front teeth, a la Dr. Evil.)
MNMF: Oh, yes. We have one of those. (At this point, I picture the person on the phone whispering to colleagues: "I told him we already have one," a la the obnoxious French soldiers in Monty Python and the Holy Grail.)
Me: Really? Well, um...(I've honestly been unprepared for this answer, feeling that I'd probably end up going to Nebraska)...how can I go about making an appointment to receive the treatment?
MNMF: Well, your doctor would probably do a referral.
Me: (I'm recovering now, having heard that all-time favorite medical term "referral"). Well, yeah. I knew that. I just meant, whom should my medical team contact?
MNMF: Just have them send all the records our way.

I politely thank the MNMF person, call my local oncologist, and soon find I have an appointment with oncologist #5 in Missoula; said appointment must happen before I can be cleared to receive the Bexxar treatment there.

And once again, I understand why things have to move this way--to an extent.

But part of my is itching to just throw a curve ball at the next oncologist. Maybe act very serious, tell him I've researched my options, and rather than Bexxar, I've decided it might be best to begin this new, experimental treatment I found on the internet involving rattle snake fangs and grape jelly.

I'm just afraid he'd tell me I need a referral.