The Bad Day Blog

Yesterday a friend gave me a compliment. "Susan, you are a superhero. I don't know how you've dealt with all this, kept on working, and have a family. It's really inspiring." It was a gracious and kind thing to say. But I had to respond with the truth. I don't feel like a hero. And I certainly never set out to be one. And I have a lot of bad days that never make it to this blog.

Usually, when I have a bad day or just need to cry, I turn to Brett or a friend, or write about it in my journal. By the time I post on the blog I've given myself a few days to gain some perspective and pull out of my wallow. The upside to this is that I'm not bleeding all over the internet. The downside is that I can often gloss over the hard parts.

Well, today was a bad day. And my superhero cape was lost at the drycleaners because I wasn't handling any of it with grace or ease. Here's the highlights.

This morning my insurance company called. They have been denying about $6000 in claims for several procedures done at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance. They tell me that SCCA sent them the wrong code for tissue markers. However, they (the insurance co) are not allowed by law to call SCCA and tell them the correct code. I need to do that. I am given a list of claim numbers, each about a mile long and am told to call SCCA to straighten this out. So now on top of everything I am supposed to be a coding trainer? Brilliant. I am in love with the American health care system and it's staggering genius.

At noon, I head off to the Cancer Support Community for a talk on "Nutrition After Cancer Treatment." There are 4 other people there, all of them are retired gray-haired ladies. I am the only bald person there. I often forget that this is the real face of cancer... the elderly. I feel depressed and isolated being with this group. None of them work or are raising a family. They live in a different world.

One of the ladies is quite overweight, bossy, and loud. She asks me, "What happened to you? You look so young!" I want to tell her that it is none of her business, but I just smile and change the subject. I kick myself for not having a snarky comment at the ready.

Bossy Lady then proceeds to hijack the nutrition talk by stating that even if you eat all organic fruits and vegetables, you still have to wash them with pure filtered water because there are so many pesticides in our tap water. She thinks these pesticides are why so many young people are getting cancer now. She casts a sideways glance at me.

I want to rebut this statement and lay out the facts. I want to talk about water tables and nitrate leaching and how we have very little of that in Montana. I want to talk about how glyphosate (Roundup) binds to the clay particles in soil and that because we have highly calcareous soils here, the CEC (cation exchange capacity) is very high and our water is probably very safe. But I don't. I get out of there as fast as I can.

Later in the afternoon I head to the hospital. Today I had a simulation for the radiation treatments. It's similar to the Spanish Inquisition, only there are no priests involved. I lay with my carved up chest fully exposed to yet more strangers while they poke and prod me. My arms extend over my head and hold on to a bar. I am on The Rack, vulnerable and embarrassed. Then at the last, they tattoo several small dots on my skin so they can line up the machine for each treatment. The tattoos hurt. I say a swear word. They laugh.

During this time, I am biting my tongue so I don't cry. I took my mom to a lot of her radiation treatments before she passed, when they were radiating the tumors that had moved to her spine. I think of her now. This damn machine makes me miss her. In a twisted way I'm glad she isn't here to see me like this.

Before I leave, I talk with the PA about hormone therapy. We are supposed to make a decision soon about what we want to do; standard tamoxifen, or a stronger clinical trial. Brett and I are exhausted from making these decisions. I am at the point where I really could care less. I am tired of wading through research papers to understand complex terminology. And the potential side-effects scare the crap out of me; early menopause, hot flashes, increased risk of uterine cancer, brittle bones, muscle pain, osteoporosis, etc. And, the heartbreaking clause for me, probably no more children. Lovely. By this point, I seriously need a beer.

I head home and call it a day. I didn't accomplish anything for work today, which is frustrating.

There is no food in the house. We head out to dinner and throw caution to the wind. Good food helps. Tonight I forsake my vegan diet and order whatever I want. I get shrimp risotto with a glass of malbec. It's amazing.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.