So what if I’m not one of those run-a-marathon-through-chemo people. I feel like hell. But I folded two piles of laundry, so take that, Weird Cancer Guy! Steven’s threatening to cough on me. Things are veering toward normal. The only big clue that I’m sick is that I’m sitting here watching Georgia football with Steven. Homey don’t watch football. It’s making me crave potato chips and onion dip. Help me.
It’s a good diversion so I can try NOT to stress about finances. My friend Jackie Mathys, Portland’s snarkiest headhunter hands down, is helping me navigate all that. Thank God. When we first landed in town and didn’t know anyone, Jackie took me to a martini party. She introduced me to one creative director and that was it. Luckily, he liked me. The provincial doors opened and I had no problem finding work after that. I am loyal to Jackie and now I don’t even know how to express my profound appreciation that she is helping us. I know there are so many more people worse off than me out there. My thoughts are squarely on protecting my kids. For the first time in my life, I’m saying yes to any and all help.
Jackie deals with freelancers for a living. She knows if I don’t work, I don’t get paid. My pay runs our household. We have insurance, but I’m the most terrified about what is all this going to cost us after insurance? I’ve been the appreciative recipient of the most state-of-the-art medical technology at Good Sam. Pretty sure the staff didn’t get their degrees on the internet. This is going to be expensive. Here are the costs I’ve racked up so far, although I don’t know the hard costs yet:
– 1 mammogram
– 1 ultrasound
– 1 biopsy (that freaking hurt)
– another mammogram
– surgical consult
– BSGI test (radioactive blood test) turned up two other suspicious areas
– 1 ultrasound
– 2 more biopsies (suspicious areas found clear)
– 1 more mammogram
– CT scan
– Bone scan (fell asleep on table)
– oncology consult
– 1 round chemo
– 1 naturopath consult about diet
– 1 white blood cell booster shot
– 1 flu shot
– OB/GYN exam
– 1 outpatient surgery to install a port
– Cost of the port itself
– Cost of the surgeon
– Cost of the anesthesia
– Cost of those toasty blankets – do they charge for those?
Here’s what I’m in for that I know about:
– Four months of chemo therapy + white blood cell shots
– Surgery (could be double masectomy or lumpectomy)
– Genealogy test to see if I’ve got the gene. If I do, looking at hysterectomy too. Yay.
For today, listening to Steven trying to pull a Southern accent is making me so happy.
5 Replies to “Good enough for football”
And whatever the price of all that, it will never be more than what you mean to your family and friends. It will somehow work out. It will.
Girl, eat potato chips and onion dip if that’s what you want to do! Don’t worry about the what if’s, the cost of treatments, etc. You are worth it! Use your energy for healing and know that we are all rooting for you 🙂
Continued nurse super healing powers to you!
Think about you constantly and sending strength and energy your way! Way to go Steven!! How ya’ll doin?
Thanks for your kind words. Guess I’d better do something now. 😛
It’s likely that you will “exceed your out of pocket maximum” soon on your insurance and then things will be free. Hooray.