An Anniversary

Two years ago today, I was diagnosed with breast cancer.  Stage one, grade one ductal carcinoma in situ, to be exact.  A few days later I was upgraded to stage one, grade two.  That's not good news.  In the end, it didn't matter:  I totally kicked it's ass.  I was officially cancer free before the end of 2010.

Going through all that, I was pretty focused on the fight.  I didn't cry, I didn't think about the "what if's".  I did my research, followed the doctors' instructions, and did my best to take care of myself.  People tell you how brave you are, but here's the thing:  you have little choice.  You fight or you die, period.  Bravery has very little to do with it. Besides, the clinic staff had the hard part.  They had to save my life.  All I had to do was show up on time.

Looking back on everything that happened, it's hard not to get emotional.  One of the hardest things I've ever had to do was tell my mom I had cancer.  Nobody wants to cause their mother that kind of pain and worry.  I hope I never have to say those words again. 

Last week, I took myself shopping and bought myself a gift: a pretty pink sapphire set with tiny diamonds on a silver band.  I wear it to remind myself that life is precious, and not to take a moment for granted.  

Just a Quick Update

All was well at my oncology appointment.  I do not have to see the oncologist again  for six whole months.  Wahoo!  Of course, I still have to have a mammo in April and see the breast specialist at that time, too, but hey, we're making progress. 

It's just about the one year mark from when I finished radiation.  The oncologist says it takes at least a year for the tissue to heal and to get your energy back.   So I should be pretty much "as good as it gets" with all this.  My treatment area is as healed as it will ever be, so the dark patches on my skin are permanent now.  Small price to pay.  I'm using a skin cream with hydroquinone to lighten the radiation tattoos.  If I could remember to use it every day it they would probably be almost gone by now.

Miss Ernie has been tolerating her eye drops pretty well.  She's lost more weight, though.  She is just fur and bones now.  It breaks my heart, but she's very strong and very feisty so what do you do?  When she stops bossing everyone around we'll know it's time to say good-bye.

Walker thanks y'all for his birthday wishes.  We had a nice dinner together, just the two of us, before we went to work Thursday night.  I wanted to tell the server that it was Walker's birthday but he didn't want me to.  He doesn't like when they all gather around and sing. I wanted to do it anyway.  I'll never take birthdays for granted again.

Celebrating Life

Y'all may remember my vow that this is my year of fiscal responsibility.  To that end, I've been signing up for as much over time as my boss offers, which isn't all that much, to be honest.  In this economic climate, my company has been very conservative.  Which may be why we are doing so well, despite the economy.  But anyway - by Wednesday I had put in almost ten hours of overtime for the week.  So when I got the invitation to our local cancer survivors picnic, I almost took a pass.  If I don't physically work 40 hours a week, I don't get time and a half for my overtime.  With my schedule, I had to take the night off if I wanted to attend the picnic, so I would lose the extra pay for eight of those hours.  I hesitated only briefly over the invitation, though. In the end, there is more to life than work.  As a cancer survivor, I need to remember that.  Some of my fellow warriors are still battling the disease, and too many have lost the fight. 

I went to the picnic.  My family came with me. And we had a good time. There was dinner, of course, and a live band. There were clowns, a caricature artist, and face painting for the kids.  My doctors served beverages.  My mom flirted with a local icon.  My sister ran into some friends, women who she did not know had beat breast cancer.  I won a door prize.  Wahoo!
 
The survivors were given buttons with the year of their diagnosis written on them.  It was very moving to see all the dates, some of them thirty years and more past.  There was also booklet with a little blurb about remembering those who have lost the fight.  I had to read than later.  It hits me, sometimes, just how lucky I was.

How lucky I am. 

A Great Big Sigh of Relief

My mammogram showed absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Finally ~ I got the much longed for all clear!  To say I'm relieved would be a huge understatement.  Thank you all for your support ~ your comments helped so much.  Now, time to get back to my life.  Wahoo!

Tamoxifen

At the end of December, my oncologist started me on Tamoxifen.  I take a daily dose of this drug, which is a hormone therapy formulated to help prevent a recurring cancer.  Tamoxifen has the potential to cause a number of side effects, but so far I've only experienced one:  night sweats.

It's funny because during the day I pretty much always feel cold.  It doesn't matter how many layers I dress in, I'm still feeling a chill.  Even when I go to bed, I feel cold until I fall asleep.  If I'm lucky I get five or six hours of good rest before I wake, hot, uncomfortable, and covered in sweat, unable to get back to sleep.   Walker tells me I throw all the covers off as soon as I fall asleep.  We have a ceiling fan in the bedroom, but it isn't helping.

My doctor tells me that my body should adjust to the Tamoxifen in a couple months, if I can tough it out.  If this is as bad as it gets, no problem!  But the lack of sleep concerns me.  At first it was kinda nice to have the extra hours in the day; now I'm just tired.  I can get through the day (thank God for caffeine!) but I would really like a good night's sleep.

Dr Jonathan's Hand Cream

Okay, I have to rave about this stuff!  I've been wanting to write this post for a while, but I made myself wait until I'd gone through a full jar, just to be sure it was as great as I thought in the beginning.  It is.

I found this hand cream back in November, when I was in the middle of my radiation treatments.  I bought it for my hands, since my skin gets so dry it cracks in the winter.  The claim to fame is cranberry oil, an ingredient I had not found in any of the other hand creams I've ever tried.  I ordered the cream from berryworks.com, a website owned and operated by Dr Jonathan and his wife, Michelle.

The package showed up on my doorstep on a Saturday.  I immediately used the hand cream.  It has a light, slightly berry scent, light enough that Walker decided to try it, too.  It felt wonderful, sank in easily, and made my hands feel soooo much better.  By the end of the day the scaly patches were gone.  They're still gone.  Which got my wheels turning.....My skin had started opening in my "treatment area", and none of the creams I got from the doctor seemed to be helping much.  I knew I should check with the doctor before using this hand cream on my boob, but it was a Saturday and the cancer center was closed.  I decided to give it a shot.

Now, obviously I'm not a doctor, and I don't claim that everyone else will have the results I did, but honestly, by the time I went for my next treatment, two days later, my skin was healed.  The open areas had new skin in them and it never opened again, though I had several more weeks of treatment.  The doctor was anticipating I would lose a large patch of skin under my arm, because the color was so dark it looked like a purple bruise.  By Monday, it was just a dark tan color.  I never lost that skin. 

That Monday, I took the hand cream to the cancer center, and after my treatment I tracked down the doctor and showed it to him.  He read the ingredients and told me there were several that had naturally anti-inflammatory properties.  He gave me his blessing to keep using it.  For the remainder of my treatments, everyone commented on how well my skin held up.  I can't say with 100% certainty that it was this cream that made the difference, but I would definitely recommend it to anyone who was having radiation treatment. In fact, I've been recommending it to everyone I know, LOL.

Now, two months post treatment, I still use the hand cream.  It's been very effective at preventing the winter dryness I normally get this time of year.  I just ordered a second batch, and I added a few more lotions and potions to try.  So far, I love everything. 

In case you're wondering, I don't know Dr Jonathan or his wife or anyone else who works at this company.  I haven't been given products or any other form of compensation.  I just really, really love this stuff.

The Good, the Bad, and the Boobie

The prayers and good wishes have worked their magic.  My visit to the Cancer Center was very reassuring.  Well, for the most part.  When I walked in the receptionist commented on how great I looked, which was nice.  Then the nurse called me, and she commented how great I looked.  Still nice. We went down the hall toward a treatment room and ran into the patient advocate, who commented several times how great I looked.  Here's the thing:  I didn't do anything special to get ready for my appointment.  Nothing.  I haven't lost weight or changed my hair or bought any new clothes.  I started wondering how crappy I must have looked before.  Ah, well.  Apparently I'm over that now.

When the doctor came in he took a look at the problem area on my boob, then he did a full exam.  He was pretty sure he knew what was going on but he called in another doctor for a second opinion.  The consensus is the goo balls coming out of my skin are excess sebum, which occurs naturally but usually in small amounts that you'd never notice.  My mammary ducts apparently are clogged, which causes the sebum to build up, until it has no more room, at which time it seeps from my pores as yucky little goo balls. They are very sure that this does not indicate infection or recurrent cancer. Yay!  The bad news is, there is really no treatment for it.  It should clear up on it's own  but if it doesn't the only course of action is to surgically clean out the clogged ducts. Because the effected area is relatively widespread, they don't know how feasible surgery would be for me.  They advised I wait until my next mammo in April, unless it gets worse or shows signs of infection. The area is tender but it doesn't bother me too much from a pain standpoint; it's just the yuck factor that I don't care for.  So waiting isn't a problem.  They do want me to chart how often and how much goo I see, so they can see if it's getting better or worse.  And I have to keep using the skin cream I got last time. 

The assumption is this was caused by radiation treatment, since it's only happening in the treatment area.  The radiologist said it's not common but they've seen it before.  The hormone therapy could be making it worse.  Since it isn't harmful I don't need to worry about it.  Maybe now I'll start sleeping better.  My blood pressure was up yesterday.  Considering everything that's happened recently, I'm not surprised, but I do need to do a better job of taking care of myself.  

Distracting Myself

I have an appointment at the Cancer Center today.  For the most part, they've been routine for months now but this one has me a little unsettled.  I'm still having drainage in my treatment area.  It's been almost two months since I finished radiation and I would think that by now this would have cleared up.  The skin healed long ago, but there are what I call "goo balls" coming out of the pores.  Every couple of days, the skin gets puffy and sore, then a day or so later this goo drains out. The swelling goes away with the goo, as does the tenderness.  For a couple days, at least.  Then it starts again.  The doctor didn't feel it was an infection; he said it doesn't happen often but they have seen it before.  He told me at my last appointment, a month ago, that it would probably clear up by now, and he ordered yet another skin cream for me.  It's gotten better but it has not cleared up.

I couldn't sleep this morning so I got up and took my borrowed dogs for a walk.  I did some housework.  The water heater we put in a few weeks ago has been leaking, so we had a plumber in today to swap it out.  I went outside, to a gorgeous, sunny, pre-spring day, and cleaned up some of the debris that comes with winter: tree branches, blown in litter, like that.  Then I came back in and watched some TV. I'm still anxious.

Right after my appointment I have to head into work. I know I'll be dog tired by the end of my shift.  Hopefully, there will be good news at the doctor and an easy night at the office.  Cross your fingers for me, please!

Problem Solved

Walker and I took his sister out to lunch on Monday, which meant that I rolled my fanny out of bed before noon on a workday.  That doesn't happen too often, as I'm one of those wacky people who actually enjoys working into the wee hours of the morning.  At any rate, we finished lunch and had hours before I had to go to work, so I had Walker drive us out to the mall.  While he did whatever boys do in the sporting goods department, I headed to Lingerie to get myself fitted for a bra that would balance out my girls.

Now, I probably sound like a cranky old biddie but when I saw the teenager working behind the counter I figured I was on my own.  My apologies to the young lady, but honestly, how much experience could she really have?  And it's not like I was there just to pick out something pretty.  I needed actual help.  Or so I thought. 

You know those molded bras that look like they come with boobs already in them?  The ones that flank the aisles of the department store making you believe that yes! You too can look like a proud owner the very finest implants, ready and waiting for an open casting call to Jerseylicious.   Yep, those.  Being somewhat, ahem, generously proportioned, I had never even considered buying something like that.  I considered it that day.  I also tried it on.  It came home with me.  And it brought a friend.  All I had to do was find one that fit the healthy boob.  The other side?  Well, it's got some extra breathing room, but in this thing, no one can tell.  Score one for me!

Packing 101

I'm supposed to be in bed.  Walker and I are meeting his sister for lunch tomorrow, so I'll need to be up much earlier than normal.  I should be in bed, but clearly, I'm not.

I spent the better part of the weekend going through my warm weather clothes trying to figure out what to pack for our upcoming vacation.  I like to do that well in advance, so if I need to repair or replace anything I have plenty of time.  I usually try to pack things in the same color family, so I can mix and match.  It helps to keep the item count down. 

Well.  I lost some weight last year, so I decided I'd better try on everything before I chose what to take.  It was a bit disconcerting.   My surgery and radiation have left me somewhat.....lopsided.  Like, very lopsided.  Wearing several layers of winter clothing has allowed me to ignore the issue.  I won't be able to do that in Florida. My doctor explained that for about a year following radiation, my boob will "re-contour" as it heals.  The skin will thicken and the tissue will tighten on the treatment side. The boob will probably lift and shrink.  Those changes are permanent, even if I live to be a hundred.  I had decided not to do anything to "balance" the girls until I'm fully healed, and even then I may just let it go.  In the meantime, I have to adjust to my new body.  I guess I should have been embracing it rather than ignoring it.  I was totally unprepared when I saw my lopsided self wearing a plain summer tshirt.

The good news is that Florida is having unseasonably cold weather.  It's not likely that I'll need to put on a bathing suit during our trip.  I guess I'll call that a silver lining.

Show Me the Money!

My attempts to become more fiscally stable have led me to research various financial gurus' budget plans.  I've studied Dave Ramsey's plan, I watch Suze Orman every week, and I've followed Gail Vaz-Oxlade for over a year now.  After considerable research, all I have is a headache.

The first thing I wanted to find out is simply, "How am I doing?" I have some savings, some retirement, some investments.  I have good equity in my home.  I don't have a car loan and my medical bills are paid.  On the other hand, I have a credit card balance and I don't have the recommended eight months' expenses saved in my emergency fund.  My car is over ten years old.  The next few months will bring more medical bills. My furnace is twenty years old.  I feel like I'm doing okay, but I really do not know, at this point in my life, if I'm on track for the future, for retirement, etc.  Even after my research, I'm still not sure.

No matter who's plan you look at, the basics are the same: live on cash, don't carry consumer debt, save for retirement and keep a liquid emergency fund.  Which leads me to my next question:  what, exactly, constitutes an emergency?  I know a job loss is one thing, but what about  something less drastic?  What if, say, my car breaks down?  Do I take the repair cost out of my emergency fund?    Or do I walk to work until I save enough money to get it fixed? Do I need a "big time" emergency fund and a "little crap that adds up" emergency fund?  If I ever accumulate the recommended eight months' expenses in my savings, I want to make sure I'm handling it correctly.

I think what I need to do is just pick a plan. One plan, and stick to it. I'm waffling between Suze and Gail right now (sorry Dave!) and, while their objectives are the same, I think they each have a unique approach.  While I try to puzzle it all out, I'm just going to keep doing what I've been doing.  I don't have an urgent need to change anything, other than my own desire to make sure I get and stay on track financially as quickly as possible.   Cancer is scary, but having cancer without adequate financial resources is terrifying.  I don't ever want to be in that position again.

A Minor Setback

Yesterday's doctor visits yeilded some not so great news - I have an "inflammation" in my "treatment area".  My skin has healed well, but apparently some of my innards aren't healing like they should.  The doctor didn't think it was an actual infection, but he does want to keep an eye on it for a month or so, which means more follow ups.  Yay.  I actually really like my doctors and the nurses, too, so while I wouldn't call it my favorite way to spend the afternoon, I don't mind going into the cancer center.  I just would like to step away from it, at the moment.  Maybe stop in for a visit in the spring or something.  Given that this inflammation is a bit painful, I don't think I'll be skipping any appointments.  The last thing I want is for it to get worse.

Today, I went back to the home health care place to make a second attempt at getting a compression sleeve.  I had a noon appointment, and showed up at noon on the dot.  The person behind the desk informed me that I didn't actually need an appointment.  Well, talk to you co-workers, then, honey, cause they would not help me without one.  And really: I have an appointment on the books, and I'm here.  If I didn't need said appointment, big deal!  Why even bring it up?  Just do your thing, measure my arm, and send me on my way.   Sheesh!  So then she asks me if I have a prescription.  Um, no.  Then she asked what compression rate I needed.  I have no idea, so  I offer to call my doctor, and she tells me since it's just a preventative thing I'll be a 15-20 compression rate, whatever that means.  Again, I wonder, why bring it up? You clearly know what I need, why not just get it for me?  So anyway: I get measured, which takes literally two minutes.  Neither of the ladies who could not help me on Saturday wanted to watch and learn, so the next poor soul who comes in on a weekend will also be SOL.  My measurements indicate I'm a "medium" which they do not have in stock.  My sleeve has been ordered and will take a week or so to come in. I didn't actually need a prescription, so I'm not sure why I was asked for one, other than to make sure I never, ever come back to that shop again.  It's a pretty safe bet that they won't be my first choice.

Ring That Bell!

One day last December, a couple weeks into my radiation plan, I was in the dressing room at the cancer center changing back into my clothes after a treatment when I heard Kristen, one of the radiation techs, going over the procedure with a newbie: "You'll come in here, get a gown from this closet, choose a dressing room, and get changed.  Make sure you take the key when you leave the dressing room.  Go ahead and get changed and I'll come back for you in a few minutes." 

When I came out of the dressing room, there was the newbie: a woman about my age with curly blonde hair.  She looked scared to death.  I was not so far removed from my first treatment that I didn't remember how it felt.  I smiled at her and said, "Don't worry.  You'll be back here changing again in less than ten minutes and you won't feel a thing."  She didn't say anything but she smiled a little, still looking terrified.  I was thinking maybe I should sit with her but then Kristen came back and off they went to the treatment room.

Over the next few weeks I saw the newbie almost every day.  Her appointment was right after mine.  We usually passed each other in the hall and just said a few words to each other.  We never had a proper conversation and I don't know her name.  The only things I know about her are that she also had breast cancer, and she lives an hour's drive away.  I looked for her on my last treatment day, but it was December 23rd and the cancer center was closing early for the holiday.  None of us had our regular appointment time.

Today, I had follow up appointments with both the medical oncologist and the radiation oncologist.  I was hoping to see my no-longer-a-newbie friend, but I wasn't sure if she would even still be taking treatments.  My first stop was the lab for a blood draw, an ordeal that sometimes takes a good hour due to the tiny veins I inherited from one of my parents.  While I was sitting in the lab, swaddled in hot blankets and sucking water down as fast as I could (two methods thought to "plump" the veins) I saw my friend pass by the window.  I figured if the phlebotomist hit blood on her first attempt (a rarity with me) I might just get back to the waiting room in time to say hello.   Well, the phleb did, and I did, but my friend did not come out of the radiation area.  I was out there for a good half hour and no sign of her.  Eventually I was called back to a treatment room, where I waited alone for the medical oncologist.  It was there that I heard the most musical sound imaginable to a cancer patient  - the "I'm done with treatment" bell was clanging away.  I could hear everyone cheering, and I cheered, too, alone in my little room.  I was pretty much certain that my newbie friend was the one ringing that bell.  She would have had a meeting with the cancer guide after her appointment, which is why she didn't return to the waiting room.  When I came out from my appointment there was my family - my mom, Diva, and Walker - waiting for me.  Walker confirmed that the bell ringer was, indeed, Ms Newbie. 

I know how dumb this sounds, but I am so proud of her, and so happy for her!  I don't even know her name but it was all I could do to just not lose it.  I really felt like my good friend had just kicked cancer's ass, even though I doubt all our "conversations" added together were even ten minutes' time.  Somehow it doesn't matter.  I know what she went through and she knows what I went through and we encouraged each other, in our own way.  And I know she would understand what I mean when I say I hope I never see her again.

My Boobs are Making History!

Okay, that's kinda misleading.  Well, maybe not. Here's the story; you can decide:  the radiologist I go to works for Mayo Clinic.  Before I started treatment he showed me a breathing technique called "gated breathing" that involves taking a deep breath, then breathing in and out in shallow breaths while trying to keep your lungs full. They strap a belt around my ribcage that attaches to a set of lights over my head.  The goal is to keep the center light lit up through each zap of radiation.   I don't know if the technique is new, but the device that measures the breathing is new for the clinic.  I am one of only seven patients who have used the device at this facility.  The staff kept telling me I was really good at gated breathing, but I thought they were just being encouraging.  Apparently not.  Yesterday, the doctor told me that the CEO of the company that makes the monitor was visiting the clinic and they wanted him to see me in action.  The doctor asked my permission and of course I said yes.  I would do anything to help anyone who is developing equipment or treatments or anything that helps patients.  The purpose of gated breathing is to create an air barrier between the girls and my heart.  The air barrier helps prevent the radiation from damaging my heart and causing a heart attack down the line.  Gated breathing is reducing the radiation load on my heart by over 50%.  So absolutely - it's important, and I don't care who watches me.  Hell, if it would do any good in the fight against breast cancer, I'd put the girls on a billboard in Times Square.

So today, after I got strapped into my get up, two guys in suits came in and looked at how the device was attached to me.  They were present through the treatment and the series of xrays that I also had today.  Afterward, I was sitting in the waiting room making a jigsaw puzzle with my mom when one of the suits came over and talked to me.  He was telling me that he was impressed with my ability and that he wished everyone was able to do it, and my mom answered, "Oh, we make puzzles at home all the time."  Gotta love my mom. The doctor also stopped me and told me again how great I was at this breathing thing.  He thanked me for letting the visitors come into my treatment.  He said it was important for them, going forward, to hear from the patients now and learn from us. 

The thing is, I never had a hard time with this technique.  The doctor showed me how to do it and asked me to practice before I started treatments.  So I did.  I had it down pat before I was ever on the table.  The ataff  tells me some people never pick it up.  I did figure out, pretty much right away, that I don't need to take the shallow breaths as often as I was taught.  As soon as I had the lights providing feedback it was a piece of cake.  So while the compliments are nice, they baffle me a bit. I do think it's pretty cool that I got to demonstrate to a big shot how to use his own equipment, LOL.

The other exciting thing is that today, I started getting "boosts".  A boost is a concentrated radiation zap along my scar line.  They do these last, which means I've completed the first stage of radiation treatment.  That's the exciting part.  I get zapped three times a day, instead of twice like the normal treatment.  Other than the extra zap, the boost is the same from my perspective. The skin around my scar is just red - no peeling, no blisters, and no icky bruise color.  I'm not sure but I would guess that the boosts will change that.  I'm hoping that the fact that it's scar tissue means that I won't feel it as much.  We'll see....

The only other boob news is that, while my skin is still peeling quite a bit, there's new skin coming in now.  The burn cream and dressings seem to be doing the trick.  I never did lose that patch of skin under my arm that the doctor was concerned about.  Of course, now that I've said that I'm sure it will come off tomorrow. The doctor told me that my skin is looking better now than they would expect at this stage of treatment.  Wahoo!   Only six more to go.....

Ewwwwwwww

My skin has started coming off.  As gross as that sounds, it looks worse.  And it doesn't exactly feel good.  The techs noticed it when I had my treatment today, and when I took a look, I don't know how I missed it.  Unless it had just started.  Now, several hours later, the peeling part has more than doubled in size. 

I see the doctor for maintenece tomorrow.  I wonder what he'll have to say about this.  I know the skin sometimes peels but I don't know if mine is better than normal or worse than normal.  Plus, I thought "peeling" would look like when you have a sunburn and it peels. Um, no.  This is way worse than that.  The skin that's coming off is thick and slimy and the tissue underneath is not like regular skin, either.  It's more like the kind of wound you get when you fall down and skin your knee.  Guess I skinned my boob.

Thirteen more to go.....

Pink Warriors ~ Fighting Like a Girl

My sister is wearing a pink shirt.

If you knew my sister, well, you'd probably be going, "Awwwwww!" right now. My sister is - ahem - slightly older than me and I can't recall ever, ever seeing her in anything pink. Ever. In fact, a couple years ago Walker and I were on vacation on the Gulf Coast and this surf store had these really cool pink jackets with little embroidered sea shells over the chest pocket and I wanted to pick one up as a thank you to my sister for taking care of our kitties while we were gone. Walker talked me out of it: he could not imagine my sister in pink anything.

But today, my sister is wearing a pink ribbon shirt in support of the cause. Walker has been passing out pink rubber bracelets to everyone we know ~ and they are wearing them, too. Two of my sisters friends violated their dress codes at work to wear pink camo tee shirts in support of a difficult appointment that I had to get through. Even the dogs are now sporting pink collars.  Go, Pink Warriors, go!

Still Going!

I'm nearing the end of my first week back to work.  I don't mind telling you, I am worn out.  I've been sleeping way more than usual, too, but when I'm up and moving around I feel just fine.  I guess my body is still recovering, though I don't feel it outside of needing the extra sleep.

The weather has turned cooler; the last two mornings, when I left work, I had thick frost on my car.  My poor veggie garden, abandoned after my diagnosis, is looking pretty bad.  The area around my house is in a valley, so we don't get frost right away, but I'd better get out there with Diva again this weekend to salvage what we can.  I doubt we'll have another chance before frost turns it into something resembling seaweed.  The gorgeous trees are nearly bare.

Walker is on a new schedule where he works four long shifts, then has four nights off in a row.  He loves it.  I'm still adjusting.  He gets home about the same time I get up each afternoon, and he has off all this weekend.  I hope we can juggle our time well enough to get some things done.  Last weekend, he was up while I was sleeping and vice versa.  We never did finish the housework last weekend.

On Tuesday, I had my last appointment with Dr C before she turns me over to oncology.  Everything was fine, technically, but my blood pressure has been creeping up a few points with each appointment.  Right now, it's still normal, but it's at the top end of normal.  I want to work on that before I see her again in April for my six month check.  She tells me that an increased BP is normal for cancer patients, with all the stress and so on, but I still want to try to bring it down a bit. 

Radiation Therapy 101

On Wednesday, I had my first appointment with a radiation oncologist.  The appointment consisted of a review of my breast cancer history, as well as an overview of the upcoming radiation treatments.  I've been reading my "How Not to Die of Breast Cancer" book so nothing came as a big surprise.  About the only thing I didn't know was that I would get my first tattoo ~ a tiny dot that will serve as a reference point for the treatments.  A permanent reminder of my experience, as if I could ever forget.

The radiation oncologist was aware of the situation with my insurance, so they are prepared to hold off on my treatment until November first, when they become part of my insurance network.  And after I got the call from the Mayo Clinic business office, informing me that I would have to pay up front for any out of pocket expenses, I went in prepared to fork over the copay for the consultation, but was told that they don't collect payments at the cancer center.  Anything I owe will be added to my monthly clinic bill.  Huh.  Guess they didn't get the memo from Mayo.  Oh, well!

I know this will sound odd, but I kind of enjoy my appointments in the cancer center.  Don't get me wrong ~ I will be perfectly happy when all this is behind me, but everyone at the cancer center is friendly, informative, and encouraging.  If you have to go through cancer treatment, I hope your local facility is as great as mine.

Reprieve

Dr N just called with the results of my latest batch of tests.  All the news was good.  And the final verdict - no chemo!  Wahoo!  I can't even express how relieved I am.  Mostly I'm just grateful that I don't have to go through all that, that I don't have to be sick and I can go back to work.  I'm also grateful to know, for sure, which direction my treatment will be taking.  I still have to wait a couple weeks to start, but it helps tremendously to know what I'm up against. 

Hanging in There, Sort Of

Today the first bathroom contractor stopped by to give us an estimate for fixing the shower.  A few years ago, we had the same company install the same system into the house we lived in at that time.  The cost was about $2,200, which seemed like a lot of money at the time but they did great work, the bathroom looked beautiful, and they were very professional from start to finish.  I was looking forward to having them fix my shower.

Well, times have changed.  The same system this time around started at over $5,100.  Yikes! There was a discount for this and a discount for that but the total estimate was still over $4,000, well above what I was willing to shell out, the current medical situation not withstanding.  And that price expires at the end of October. So I came up with my own low cost, low tech solution.  I know it won't last long, but at three bucks a roll for duct tape, I can replace it as often as I need to until I get my buns back to work.  Even then I'll take a pass on the five thousand dollar shower system.  That's just out of line. 

As an aside: Walker and I are not married, and the house we live in was purchased by me.  For some reason, when we have contractors in, they want to speak to Walker.  I call for the appointment, I greet them at the door, I sign the contracts, and I pay the bill.  Yet when they're writing estimates and doing the work, they want to deal with Walker.  I understand as well as he does the work that needs to be done, the materials used, et cetera. I'm not just the girly girl waiting for the workers to leave so I can decorate.  Whether they like it or not I butt in when I have questions or concerns.  Frankly, it seems to piss them off.  I don't care.  When I am paying for their services, I am the boss.  The salesman here today didn't push me aside but then, Walker wasn't home.  When they called yesterday to confirm the appointment, the man I spoke with asked twice if I was the sole homeowner.  When I confirmed, twice, that I was, he flat out asked me if I had a husband.  I almost canceled on the spot.  Women may have come a long way, Baby, but someone forgot to tell that to the contractors of America.

Anyway, after the shower guy left, I called my insurance company.  There are no radiation oncologists in my insurance network within at least 75 miles of my home.  To see the radiation oncologist at my regular clinic, I needed to get a "gap extension" to be billed at in-network rates. After many department transfers and much frustration I received the bottom line: my policy does not allow gap extensions, and I will be responsible for any non-covered charges plus ten percent of all fees plus anything priced above what my insurance company deems "reasonable and customary" for each service.  I need a consultation plus a care plan plus thirty treatments.  Even at ten percent, those charges will add up fast.  That is in addition to the out of pocket charges I have already incurred for 2010.  There is no maximum limit for out of network charges.

This whole situation is compounded by the fact that in 2008, I went out of network to Mayo Clinic for treatment of a uterine fibroid.  Mayo offered treatment options not available locally.  At that time I had a different insurance company that did approve my visit to Mayo; however, when the bill came the insurance denied the claim.  After a lot of appeals and other BS, I ended up stuck with about 90% of that bill.  I worked a deal with Mayo where they discounted the charges and I paid it in full, but one of the terms of the deal was that I was not eligible for further financial assistance from Mayo, ever.  I figured, okay, they're not local, I have two options in town,  I won't need to go back there again.  Little did I know.  The radiation oncologist I have been referred to works in my town, but he's employed by Mayo Clinic.  Mayo leases space in my local clinic and runs it as a satellite of their facility in Minnesota. 

 I really want to keep my attitude positive as I continue on this journey but it seems every day gets more difficult.  I could really use some good news about now.