Seconds Please

One of my last attempts to make friends with the conventional medical world through my HMO was the decision to get a second opinion. My naturopathic doctor encouraged me in this regard. She told me to shop around within our three HMO covered hospitals in our city for a surgeon that might be more innovative. One that was up on the newest procedures and technology. One that would take the time to listen to me, and perhaps validate my decisions. I studied physician bios, both their education and personal pages. Then I sent three names and bios to Doctor Y for her perusal. I told her to read between the doctor speak and promos to see if one seemed doable.
We narrowed it down to one and I made the call. But unlike a page from a feel good novel, the news I received was real world time. This doctor didn't deal with my surgical needs (even though his bio said he did). The office recommended another surgeon.
Ah yes, Doctor S.
The exam was conducted with two medical students at his side (which I did give approval for - after all they need to learn their craft). I felt, however that I was being used as the specimen - the teaching cadaver. All conversation was around me. Dr. S slapped on the white glove and did his exam (I'll spare you details) followed by one med student's white glove. She wasn't practiced in the fine art of patient comfort. Don't ask me why med student #2 was there. Just observing, I guess. And then they discussed their "findings" above my head. I was instructed to meet them in another room for their assessment.  So I went from one examining room to another. I hopped on another exam table - which I always wonder - why do people in TV shows and movies get their results in posh offices with the Divine Doctor sitting at the big wood desk and patient sitting in a padded chair? The doctor and his entourage swept in, Dr. S sat on one of those fun little twirly chairs while Thing 1 and Thing 2 stood, back to the counter, arms folded and nodded as he gave his proclamation.
I now "probably" had stage 4 cancer and the tumor had "probably" invaded another part of my body by what they felt during the exam.
Well, that's a fine, "how-do-you-do."
I tried to show him my latest blood tests (which, by this time I'm well into my naturopathic treatments). It showed that the cancer had not spread. Because they were not done at sacred HMO labs, he gave them a 5 second glance and told me I needed chemo and radiation. He started to pull out the same pamphlet I was given by surgeon #1. Standard procedure, I guess. I declined, thanked him for his time and told him I would keep in touch.
He ordered me another CT scan, which I needed. After all, HMO will pay for this.
However, the contrast dye he ordered, is not even used anymore. I had to go through my GP to get the right one.
Skipping ahead in my story.
After the CT scan was complete, the results went to Dr. S. I received a phone call from him personally to give me the results. Thankfully my GP doctor sent me a copy of the written results before the phone call. And, thankfully, the results showed no significant changes except for the "suspicious" lymph node had gotten a little larger. Everything else looked good.
This is what Dr. S presented to me. I "probably" had stage 4 rectal cancer now and instead of the tumor invading the one area he mentioned in my initial 2nd opinion visit about 6 months before, he now decided it had "probably" invaded my groin. I needed chemo and radiation.
By now my blood pressure was pretty dang elevated and I tried to keep my voice steady and polite as I informed him that his interpretations and mine of the findings were quite different. When I told him I was in the care of a naturopathic doctor, and the treatments were helping me, he asked me when I was going to use "real medicine". Yup, his exact words.
Next: Real Medicine
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

Trust In The LORD

"Cancer is but one of the many ways the body tries to change the way you see and treat yourself, including your body. This inevitably brings up the subject of spiritual health, which plays at least as important a role in cancer as physical and emotional reasons do."  Andreas Moritz

I have choices and I have time. I have Heaven on my side, and I have people who care for me.

I knew I couldn't be pressured into making life changing decisions without lots of prayer and support.  

My surgeon, void of compassion, gave me the grim battle plan. Due to the nature of where the mass is located, I would have to endure chemo (hair loss, blisters on my hands and feet, nausea, diarrhea...) and radiation (think an acid enema - chemical burn in the place the sun don't shine) at the same time, then, the lower portion of my colon (rectum) removed and for the rest of my life have to wear a colostomy bag. And yes, I know that there are worse things others deal with and, yes, if this is my fate, I'll woman up and deal with it. 

Everything was said, probed, tested and done. The ball was in my court.

I have Heaven on my side.

My first course of action was to take Hezekiah's example. He was a King in Israel and received bad news.

And Hezekiah received the letter from the hand of the messengers, and read it; and Hezekiah went up unto the house of the LORD, and spread it before the LORD. 

  And Hezekiah prayed unto the LORD...   Isaiah 37:14-15

Then I waited. 

 G~d is faithful.

I began to receive verses from scripture. Not the hunt around and find something kind of thing. I've done that before. I ended up with...

Flip, flip, flip, close your eyes, point - "And Judas went and hung himself."

Flip, flip, flip, close your eyes, point - "Go and do likewise."

No, this was the "you know it's a supernatural thing". I'd be watching TV and a scripture reference would pop into my mind. I'd look it up and it would address the very thing I'd just prayed about - mostly a concern or fear. This happened several times.

And I'm not one to hear the voice of G~d on a regular basis.

Along with the verses, I'd be reading - scanning actually, a book or article and something would pop out. Something that addressed the very question I'd just had. Or, my mind would go into a mini melt down and I'd doubt my decisions or path I felt I was to walk, grab one of the books my naturopathic doctor, or a friend 

had recommended, open a random page and, bingo, the sentence that addressed my concern would jump out at me. 

Coincidence or coinkidinkles? Nope.

Next: I have people who care.

The Waiting Room

 But in my mind I keep returning to something, something that gives me hope - 

 that the grace of ADONAI is not exhausted, that his compassion has not ended. 

 [On the contrary,] they are new every morning! How great your faithfulness! 

 "ADONAI is all I have," I say; "therefore I will put my hope in him. 

 ADONAI is good to those waiting for him, to those who are seeking him out. 

 It is good to wait patiently for the saving help of ADONAI.

  Lamentations 3:21-26

I'm not much good at waiting. And I prefer the easy way. That's why I love writing. I can create a character, give them conflict and then - just like that - give them solutions. And they live happily ever after.

I woke up on Monday morning, after a weekend of denial and acceptance and denial and acceptance to realize, it wasn't a bad dream. I now had a frenemy to live with. THE DIAGNOSIS. 

Every time the phone rang, adrenaline shot through my body. Fight or flight. I could just not answer the phone if it was from the GI department, or radiology or the surgeon's office - flight. Or I could face it headlong and make appointments. I made appointments. Fight. In the next few weeks I was poked and prodded - white gloves and white coats. Every time I met with a medical provider, I wanted someone to say, "I can't find anything. You don't have cancer." I needed someone to give me hope.
 It was there - hope, small, but it was there. No doctor whisked me away to ICU saying I would die without immediate care. In fact, they all made it clear that although it was serious, very serious, and I shouldn't put off treatment - the sooner the better, and no one came out and said, "you have time to process this before making decisions", but I felt at peace with waiting. Okay I could live with that. I had time. Time to think, pray, straegise. Hope. 
Of course, dealing with a large HMO, they have their protocol. They offer you what they've been trained to do. Dealing with cancer, your only option is the BIG 3. Chemotherapy, radiation and surgery. Red flags began to unfurl. Did I want to give my body over to something that would destroy so much just to (hopefully) cure me?
I finished the battery of tests. Hubster and I knew there was only one thing to do...
L~rd help!! Where do we go from here??
Next: Who do I believe?

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.