Let the Party Begin

I made the phone call and set up an appointment with the cancer center. The consultation appointment and blood test was going to cost a chunk of change, but after prayer and ponder, Hubster and I knew it was the way to go.
Chaim was on board.
Our trek began at 8am. My appointment was scheduled for 11am.

Over the river and through the woods to the cancer center we go.
We settled in the office and filled out the paper work. As with all medical waiting rooms - we waited.
But the atmosphere was very pleasant and comfortable. I noticed several greeting others as they came in, like a small family sort of thing. I guess when you hang out in the waiting room or IV suite with the same people for 3 weeks, you begin to connect. Nice.

It was my turn.
Three doctors, one blood test, one hair analysis - four hours.
I was getting my money's worth. And this is a good thing.
Dr. F greeted Hubster and I warmly and then took the time to go over his treatment plan, my records that I'd sent ahead and answer mine and Hubster's questions. It was not rushed. He listened to my concerns and took the time to address them.
Doctor #2 - Dr. M
He enveloped my hand in his large beefy one. I felt the passing of welcoming energy.
His expertise is two fold - nutrition and emotional/mental care.
He spent the time discussing in detail - pulling out the white paper on his exam table and drawing diagrams of cancer cells and how the protocol would destroy the little buggers. Go get um!!! Kill em daid!!!
He also spent time showing me how much my attitude and how I see myself, works in tandem with the chemo and nutrients in the healing process. He'll be my "life coach" as well as my nutritionist, helping me to plan the diet my body needs.
Dr. I was third in the trio.
He's an oncologist and the "hands on" doctor, doing the physical exams. He also explained the treatment plan as well as doing a mini exam to check vitals and such. His pronouncement was encouraging. For someone with cancer, I'm in good health.
Now for the blood test.
Only 2 pokes and 2 vials of blood. Not bad. To Greece it goes. This will determine the exact chemotherapy and nutrients my cancer cells respond to. Taylor made treatment, just for me.
It's been a full and fulfilling day. Hubster and I are hungry. We decide that since we're in casino country, we want to take advantage of a buffet and maybe a quarter or two into the ol' one arm bandit. Lets see if we can hit that jackpot and pay for the treatment here and now...
Chaim enjoyed his chow and watched me down a few sweet, plump strawberries. Yes, they were good!

As for our wild gambling extravaganza...?

Next: Blood test results and strategy.
GiveForward

Healer, Heal Me

Hubster and I belong to a large corporate HMO provided through his place of employment. We have benefited from it greatly. Both he and I have seen the inside of the ER, logged up plenty of doctor visits for various illnesses and injuries and taken advantage of their pharmacy and radiology departments. So in no way do I wish ill will or mass destruction on the institution. They have served us well.
But... when I received my cancer diagnosis, I knew I had to be well informed about treatments and procedures. This was a major life changing decision I would make - one that would impact not only me but my circle of family and friends. I needed to explore all my options.
After the conventional medicine follow-up tests, I was immediately placed in the cue for appointments with a surgeon and oncologist and offered a visit to a radiologist. I turned that one down. I was getting overwhelmed.
Conventional medicine offers the trinity of treatment for cancer - chemotherapy, radiation and surgery. Sad to say, it is also known as cut, poison and burn.
Each doctor presents their method of treatment much like one would sell you a time share. You go in their office, and after the prescribed welcome hand shake, they sit you down, tell you that you need their services and if you don't take advantage of their offer within 24 hours, your window of opportunity will be gone - oh and so will you...
Doctor Surgeon told me I had stage 3 cancer, needed surgery and gave me the colorful pleasant pamphlet showing the different methods of cutting out your colon, depending on where the cancer is located. The pictures showed happy, smiling doctors with happy, smiling patients before and after the procedure - oh, they were all artist rendered pictures - and gave a brief description of what would take place. Reminded me of the pamphlets you get when you buy into the new housing subdivision, shiny  new houses with shiny new lawns and pretty flowers. What they don't show you is how your subdivision is really going to look like when they are behind schedule and you still only have a foundation sunk in mud two months after you were scheduled to move in.

My picture showed a happy lady looking at her colostomy bag like it was a tattoo. Neat and easy.
I figured by the steady, controlled look on Doctor Surgeon's face that she was familiar with doing the surgery, but not so much the aftermath of what her patients went through after the deed was done.
After her pitch, I kindly let her know that I was contemplating a naturopathic approach, gave her my research findings and assured her that I was under the care of a licensed educated naturopathic doctor and not doing the witch doctor approach with bones and eyes of newt. Her eyes took on a glazed and guarded look, let me know that there was no founded studies "out there" that supported naturopathic cancer treatments, told me that she could not accept my decision and sent me on my way with a pronouncement that I'd probably be back like the others too sick for her to save.
My next appointment was with the oncologist. He was an older, serious man who cut to the chase, told me  he'd read Dr. Surgeon's report and knew of my "alternative treatment plan". He offered me his treatment - 5-FU chemotherapy along with radiation at the same time. He told me that there would be side effects - hair loss, nausea, diarrhea, severe anemia, low immunity to other illnesses, and although they don't know why, my hands and feet would turn red and blister. Oh, and the radiation? Just imagine an enema with acid... need I say more? He sent me on my way with a little more compassion. He let me know he could not agree with my alternative approach, but wished me well and would support my decision - because it was my decision.
So, I came away thinking - I have a better chance of dying from the treatments rather than the cancer.
Next: Healer, Heal Me - Part 2

The Mitford Life

 Marta's Journey. I've ambled here and there in my posts. A little commentary, a recipe or two, day to day happenings... For the most part it reads like a Jan Karon Mitford book. For those not familiar with the Mitford series, which by the way I highly recommend, Father Tim is an Episcopal priest and lives in a small bucolic town in North Carolina. That about sums it up. He has adventures, a small crisis or two, a few highlights, but overall, his life is pretty level. That's why I love reading these books.
What I see on TV, or scroll through on my Facebook page can turn a fairly decent day into a death spiral in a matter of minutes. I get weary of angst and carnage bombarding my eyes and ears, especially when I don't seek it out. So, yes, call me Pollyanna and I enjoy wearing rose colored glasses, thank you very much.

However, I've now been torn out of Mitford, North Carolina and plopped smack dab in New York City - the bad side, during a blizzard and garbage strike.

My new journey began a year ago in January. I've had issues down in the south end of my body for quite awhile. Diagnosed with the dreaded hemorrhoid, I figured this was my cross to bear and moved on with life. Come January, I had to endure the even more dreaded (cue da-da da dah music) colonoscopy. Yes, sends shivers down the spine of even the most hardy soul. I'll spare you the details of it all (and the collective "thank you" was heard 'round the world). But suffice it to say, the prep is worse than the procedure (well kind of).
I had one of those comedy of error moments going into the procedure, though. About a half hour before I scheduled myself to leave for the hospital, which thank goodness is only about a fourth mile from our house, I got a frantic call from the GI department.
"Where are you?"
"Um, at home?"
"You are suppose to have been here a half hour ago! Your procedure is scheduled to begin in fifteen minutes. We need to prep you."
There we go with that prep thing again. Not good. Not good at all.
Hubster and I dash out the door, arrive in record time, check in at the GI desk and I'm met by Frantic Nurse. I throw my purse at Hubster and am whisked away down the hall and through the "not for public" doors into the pre/post op ward for a quickie prep (vitals, IV and disclosure of any information needed to insure I don't flat line on the table). At this point, I don't have time to worry or panic, which was probably a G~d send.

Fast forward about one hour later (give or take because they drugged me), I emerge from quasi la la land and my gastroenterologist is looking down upon me. Now, I haven't watched many episodes of House, but I know Dr House has a reputation for being blunt, irreverent and a bit rude.
 I met his sister.
I'm not sure if she asked how I was, I don't think so, but her pronouncement was, well, a bit blunt, irreverent and rude.
"We have a problem. You have cancer."

Just like that. No beating around the bush with this one. No, "I saw something suspicious and want you to get further testing". Not even a "why don't you go home a sit on it for a day, we'll get to the bottom of this soon". She gave me the usual post-procedure pep talk, encouraged me to get a CT scan and ultrasound mass measurement, an oncologist and surgeon, shook mine and Hubster's hand and wished us luck.

Next: Now What? or I Think I'd Like to Wake Up From This Nightmare Now, Thank You.