Monday morning...the doctor-ness fired up again. The majority of the day we spent either waiting around for the appointment, waiting at the appointment, or talking with the insurance company about the procedure. We're crossing our fingers there won't be any hassle, but who are we kidding. It's America, and it's health insurance. There's sure to be a fight somewhere along the way.
The meeting with the doc that morning went fairly well, and luckily he knew a snippet of French (at least a good 3 years in high-school's worth) that allowed him to interpret the radiologist's report...or at least get the gist. He also added that, thankfully, the CT scans were done very well, and that we wouldn't need to redo any of this at the moment. High fives to the French. Unfortunately, though, he told us that a tumor of this sort was not his forte, and that I would need to be shipped out for the procedure. Oh, my heart sank, but I was thankful he was truthful with us about his own hesitation. His top recommendation was for a colleague of his up at the Mayo Clinic who has spent his career on this exact sort of thing. That made me feel a bit better, but I was still in shock, like, whoa, the Mayo? That's serious stuff...like the major leagues of hospitals! Sounded scary, but also a bit high class, ha. Within 15 min of our exam, we had an appointment set for next Wednesday up in Minnesota. And now we wait.