There was much to do this week. The Dr. wanted a bone scan to see if anything was starting to spread within my bones. It was cool seeing my skeleton on the screen of the scan machine. My foot lit up like a trucker's headlights with all the fused bones, and I could see the rib I cracked a year ago in the car accident. The scan was clean.
I also saw my neurologist to discuss the MS medication I'm taking and the chemo drugs I'd be getting. Since the drugs I'll be getting are extremely immunosuppresant, he thought I might want to give up my daily shot for awhile. We'll revisit that at my 6-mo appt in early May.
Michael, one of my sisters, and I went to Chemo Class on Tuesday. One of the nurses sits down with you and goes over the possible side effects of the drugs you will be taking. It's enough to scare the cancer right out of you. Not everyone gets all the side effects and some hardly blink. As you're sitting there tho, you imagine yourself getting the worst of everything. Hence, the meltdown previously mentioned.
It was good information, and we had the opportunity to ask questions. The best part of it is probably that I can't clean the cat boxes anymore. Dang! That was always my favorite thing to do aside from scooping the dog poop. Apparently, I can still do that. Thanks goodness!
After all that, then they send in the financial person who tells you how much each treatment is going to cost. Holy Crap! Nobody has that kind of money. They also have all the information on your insurance, out of pocket maximums, etc. I am so grateful to have the insurance I do. Thank you Ball Aerospace. My costs will be manageable.
The one really nice thing about the cancer center is that first of all, they are all so nice. They have schedulers to coordinate all your appointments. They explain everything to you. They answer your questions patiently. They reiterate constantly that if you have any questions or need anything, do not hesitate to call. The financial person ensured me that there are grants that can be obtained, payment plans to develop, and that the last thing I should do is worry about the financials.
It is a caring place to go, if you have to go to a place like that.
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3 comments:
C-Day
I remember it took me four months to research available treatments, consequences, and likelihood of success. Eventually I knew more than my doctor and told him what test I wanted and when. He tried to bully me, doctor's can be daunting but I got my way. Treatment in NZ would have been free but the long term success rate was probably only 60-80%, not that any of them kept track. So I opted for a centre of excellence, in Georgia, cashed up $40,000 of IRAs and stood in the doorway, bags packed, facing a darkened room. I couldn't move. In the past I've been circled by sharks, stalked by bears, and hunted with wolves in suits, finally I met my match. All I wanted to do was crawl back into my bed, go asleep and wake up finding this all was a bad, bad dream.
The day before I found a greenstone carving on the beach, a taonga or treasure, like a Maori version of your great, great grandmothers diamond and gold wedding ring. I held it in my hand and whispered to myself, "here you go, off to Georgia for three months, just pretend its a 'radiation vacation.'" I got unglued and never looked back. I still wear my taonga every day.
"your life dwells among the causes of death like a lamp in a strong breeze"
I still plan to do some more research. But, I didn't have time to wait to start treatment. I figure I can adjust what I'm doing if I feel I need to. But, I like the Dr. and from the little research I've done so far, I'm Ok with what I'm doing. There is so much information out there. What is real and what is junk? Hard to tell sometimes. jr
Jane,
I am laughing, I am crying, I am hugging. I'd be rotten helping with the wedding, but if you need help with research, hey, you just call me anytime. That I can help you with.
Marcy R at work
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