Did I Win or Lose?

36,128

The number takes my breath away.  Seeing it instilled feelings of panic, of gratitude, and of sadness.

It doesn't seem fair on so many different levels.  I know it could be political, but I'm not going to take it there.  I'm not even smart enough to take it there, even if I wanted to.

Why me {in disbelief as I think about just how fortunate I am}?

Why me {in disbelief over my diagnosis}?

How is this even fair?

$36,128.48 - that was the number on the hospital statement that came today for a few bags of fluid that look like nothing more than saline solution one treatment.  It doesn't include the oncologist visit, or the physician assistant.  No pain meds, no operating room.  No anesthesia.  Just an old recliner that I sit in for 5 hours during my infusions.  Unbelievable!  Insert joke about how expensive my cancer hair cut is going to cost when it's all said and done.  If I had to guess, I would say somewhere around $400,000 when it's all said and done.  But I'm sure there are things I'm missing...

So, why me?? If I happen to be in another country, I might just be SOL (for my mother-in-law that stands for shit out of luck).  Perhaps I would be given some medicine or something to help with pain, if I were lucky enough to be able to afford a doctor, but no way I would get a $40k treatment.  (Reminds me of a story my parents shared with me: They visited Cuba and a local family they had befriended wanted to make a birthday cake.  They were willing to spend what little money they had to be a gracious host and struggled to find a cup of sugar. A cup of sugar.  You can buy a 4lb. bag here for $1.  But there, they simply didn't have access to such simple things.)  It's unbelievable to think just because of fate/luck/whatever-you-want-to-call-it, I get top notch treatment, where others would get substantially less.

Why me??  Sometimes I'm still in disbelief over my diagnosis.  I'm 36.  Healthy.  Happy.  Mother.  Wife.  Nothing special about me, except I've got this 'special' diagnosis, that if not caught would have killed me.  Would have cut my time on Earth short.  Would have devastated my family.  So darn lucky it was caught early, when really it shouldn't have been.

How is this even fair?  After the shock and panic of seeing a $36k medical statement, I felt a little giddy and a lot guilty.  Giddy that I know I don't have to pay anywhere close to that amount for my treatment.  Giddy that if something costs that much, surely it's bound to do some good, right?  And guilty because I know nothing in life is free.  What I receive for free is something someone else has had to work for.  I will never be able to 'repay' this debt, nor am I expected to.  Insurance (and by insurance I mean all you healthy people who have to pick up my cancer tab) just steps in and lifts that burden off of me and our family.  It isn't fair.  I fully understand insurance is a gamble, I'm just not sure if I have won or lost.  Either way, I feel blessed.

"This is what makes these treatments worth it."

That sweet little face!

Tomorrow I go in for another treatment.  On one hand I'm dreading it, but on the other I'm excited about it being my 4th out of 6 treatments.  After this next one, I will officially be on the down hill of the harsh chemo (God willing).
This morning, we were laying around having coffee and Mase wanted some cuddle time.  Since he's a very active 4 year old, these moments are a rarity these days.  I remember laying there with him, smelling his sweet little breath, holding his little hand, and feeling his cold little feet on my leg.  Somehow this moment makes going in for my treatment tomorrow easier.  THIS is what makes these treatments worth it.  When I think about the choice of skipping treatments or enduring them to ensure I am around for this kid as long as I can be, it's an easy decision.  Seeing that sweet face turns my dread into gratitude that I have access to the treatment.

What's Up Doc?

On Tuesday, we met with my oncologist for the first time, Dr. Robert Ellis (DRE).  Let me tell you, this guy is SMART and came highly recommended.  I must say I've felt like my breasts and I have been in excellent hands during this whole wild and crazy journey.  Richard and I were surprisingly calm as we entered the Hulston Cancer Center.  I think we were just ready to get a plan.

After some initial blood work, we were taken back to the exam room where we me Dr. Ellis.  He was confident, professional, but also warm and sympathetic.  Even though it wasn't his first rodeo, he was sympathetic to the fact that it was ours.  After he got our story and did a quick exam, he returned to give us the facts and the game plan.

The Facts:

• My cancer is aggressive.  Invasive ductal carcinoma.  HR- (hormone receptor), HER2+ (that has something to do with a protein).  HER2+ is actually a good thing, as there are drugs that can help keep this nasty little bitch cancer away.  
• Without treatment, DRE guessed my cancer had a return rate hovering around 50%.  I've got to be honest, it's a good thing Richard and I were sitting down when we heard that number.  I don't think either of us was prepared to hear that.  Richard even said his legs felt like Jell-o after the 50% bomb was dropped.  BOOM!  
• If the cancer did come back it would obviously hit somewhere else... Only if it hit again, it isn't as easy as cutting off a body part.  It could surface again in my liver, bones or blood.  NO THANK YOU!  
• With treatment, my cancer return rate drops to around 15%.

The Plan:

• 6 chemo treatments, 1 every 3 weeks.  They said the first appointment would last about 8 hours, due to some chemo education and that they would be administering my medicine very slowly to make sure there are no reactions.  After the initial treatment my appointments should be reduced down to about 5 hours.  
• 1 shot needed following each treatment to help keep my blood counts up.  
• 1 year of Herceptin after my treatment.  It's a medicine that will help keep my cancer from coming back.  It will be administered through my port, too.  

DRE also ordered a blood chemistry, an electrocardiogram, and a PET scan, just to make sure the rest of my body isn't trying to kill me.  I'm thankful to the Cox scheduling girl who got a bit feisty on my behalf so I could get my electrocardiogram that day and my PET scan scheduled the following day.  Shout out to the Cox team!  For the most part, I have gotten excellent customer service there - with the exception of the lady who looked like Stiffler's mom from American Pie at one of the registration desks.  She seemed a bit irritated that I had cancer and had the gall to check in for my appointment.    

Yes, I will be losing my hair and apparently you lose it everywhere; so the carpet will match the drapes.  Or more accurately, there will be no drapes and no carpet.  I plan on getting my hair cut soon just to help Mason and I make the transition.  

I knew chemo was a possibility.  While I was hoping to avoid it, hearing the 50% return rate frankly scared the shit out of us!  With that high of a return rate, I feel blessed that chemo is an option.  I will gladly take it if I can reduce my risks that much.  

After hearing the plan, Richard and I were in really good spirits.  We do much better knowing a plan, even if the plan is difficult, it feels good to be moving forward.  We are ready to kick cancers ass!