So How Much Does it Cost to F*#k Cancer?

Ever wonder how much it costs to survive Cancer? In dollars?  Real dollars. Well, because I’m a naturally curious individual and a “numbers person” at heart, I have been keeping track. 

Since mid-December 2016 (when I had my first mammogram) through my four first chemotherapy treatments (that takes us through the end of March 2017, if you are counting folks). So, that’s about four months of doctor visits, scans, blood work, surgery to install my medi-port, and four chemotherapy treatments (one every other week).

$87,630.44.

Yep.  My chemotherapy treatments alone are over $13,000 apiece.

Of that, we have paid out of pocket a total of $690.55 (not including our monthly premium).

Over the course of my treatment (the full 20 weeks of chemo, followed by the double mastectomy and possible radiation therapy), I suspect we are looking at close to $300,000 to cure me of Cancer.  

Healthcare is complicated – and expensive.

Access to good, reliable, affordable healthcare is vital. If I didn’t see that before my diagnosis, I know it now. If this very healthy, non-smoking, 53-year old with no family history can come down with Cancer, it can happen to anyone of us. The “insurance” of having good-quality, accessible, and attainable healthcare should be a given in the “richest country in the world”.  And my newly-found “pre-existing condition” may haunt me for the rest of my life regarding how I get my healthcare, where I get my healthcare, and how much more expensive my healthcare is, if some in Congress and this Administration gets their way (I refer you to the title of my blog). It’s truly frightening – and real.

The discussion about healthcare in this country will continue. So will the invoices. I will keep you posted.

My Fears and Worries of Having Cancer

Sunday is Mother’s Day. I think a lot about my mom this time of year. I suppose most folks do. It’s a day to celebrate your mom, after all. I wonder how my fight against Cancer would be different if my mom were still here. If I were only able to call her up and talk to her about it all. I would worry, however, that she would feel badly for me. That she would somehow internalize this as being her fault, something she did wrong. I can only imagine this is extra hard on my dad. How helpless he must feel for his daughter to have Cancer at 53. We email and “talk” as much as possible these days. Both of us struggling with our health “issues”. I find comfort in knowing he is there for me, but I worry that he worries a lot about me and that he feels helpless in the face of what is happening to me Like others around me, I need him to be strong, to be positive, to be active in my life….. Jesus. Yep. This post is a downer.

This is mostly because I’m withering from effects of the steroids I have to take to keep the allergic reaction of the chemo drug at bay. I feel generally crappy and depressed most of the week now due to these damn drugs. Ironically, it’s not the chemotherapy drugs that are keeping me down, it’s the meds I have to take to keep my body from fighting off the effects of the chemo drugs.  And just about the time I feel better, it’s time for another round of chemo.

My oncologist has me back on the original chemo drug for the remainder of my treatment. As you will recall, the drug that caused a torso rash and itchiness. I guess that was less scary to her than the numb face, mouth and tongue caused by the supposed “non-allergic” variety of the drug. Hmph. To keep the rash at bay, I’m on a heavy dose of steroids for the first few days following treatment. Alls great until I come off the steroids. Crash is more like it. And I crash hard. Fatigue, dizziness, depression - generally crappy.

And thus, has been my 2017. I have been fighting Cancer since January 24, 2017. That’s three months, seventeen days. In that time, I’ve had numerous doctor visits, scans, drugs, chemotherapy, as well as a huge amount of pent up tears and fears, coupled with built up hopes and sheer determination. To say I will come out the other side of this a changed person is not an exaggeration. I have learned a lot about myself, my wife, my brother, my family, and my friends who have all had a hand at making me a stronger, more resilient person through this. Guess perhaps, this is by some grand design. Since I’m going to have to muster that strength now for the rest of my life.

I am hopeful I will beat this.  In fact, I am determined to beat this. But I worry.  I worry mostly at night and when I’m coming off the steroids. I worry about it coming back. I worry about the very real possibility the rest of my life will be spent in total fear of “it coming back”.

Not all Cancers are the same. It’s important to understand the kind you or your loved one has. Many people beat Cancer – never to have it return. Some struggle the rest of their lives in chemotherapy, drug trials, etc. beating back the return of Cancer. The latter is certainly not my Option A, I can tell you that. It’s not even a preferable Option B in my book.

If you have been following along, you know I have triple-negative breast cancer. A 2007 study of more than 50,000 women with all stages of breast cancer found that 77% of women with triple-negative breast cancer survived at least 5 years, versus 93% of women with other types of breast cancer. Now, I have no plans to live just 5 more years and so, yea, this scares the be-jesus out of me.

Sunday is Mother’s Day. My mom lived to be just 66 years old. Her only sister, the same – 66. I always thought they both died at a very young age. I will now have to fight to live to be 66. I will have to be vigilant to live to be 66. I will have to have access to good healthcare to live to be 66. I will have to be “lucky” to live to be 66. I will need to "believe" to live to be 66. I will no doubt need to live in a state with a Democratic governor to have a fighting chance to live to be 66.

I need a stiff drink. And  - I need to cheer the fuck up. Hell, I’m still here. I have a lot of fight left in me.  One day at a time, right? I have a huge network of family and friends who are pulling, praying and putting out for me every day. I have a wife who loves me, supports me, believes in me. I will become a Cancer survivor. And now for the rest of my life I will be a Cancer survivor.  And I will wear that badge of honor proudly. 

I have been blessed to have known my great-Grandmother, to have learned to laugh and dance from both my Grandmothers, to feel the love and support of my Aunts, to have the courage and resolve of my Mom. Happy Mothers' Day to everyone who has influenced you in your life like these women have mine.

Fuck cancer. Root for me. Pray for me. Give to Cancer research. Be an educated, courageous voter. Watch me.

Pick Your Poison - It Just May Be The Devil You Know

There’s an old saying: “Pick your poison”.  According to the Urban Dictionary, “Pick your Poison” is what you say when someone is supposed to choose between two horrible options, i.e. “you could chop off your toe or you can stab yourself with that piece of broken glass”. Well, there ya have it.  Yep, a choice between two horrible options. How does one choose when one finds one’s self in such a dilemma? Some go with “the devil you know”. And it seems that’s what I am doing to do.

If you have been following along, you know that I had a rare reaction to the drug, Taxol. A rash, more like an itchy sunburn. And as you recall, my oncologist wanted to switch me to a newer, more pure form of the drug – Abraxene, but my insurance company initially DENIED her request. Well, she was persistent and good at what she does and got the insurance company to AGREE to allow me to use the drug on my third treatment – that was last Thursday. Good news, right? This new drug had almost NO reactions reported, only takes 30 minutes to transfuse (as opposed to 2 ½ hours) and required no pre-meds (no steroids, no anti-nausea meds, no antihistamines). Great!

I felt good about our decision to change to this new drug. My doctor was over the moon she was able to get it approved for me. The regimen under this new drug was two weeks on, one week off. This is because the about the only issue with the drug was the potential for low white blood cells (WBC) counts. To date, my WBC have held pretty steady. Close to or in the “normal range”, but with this drug, they could take a nose dive, so the week off is to allow my body and WBC count to recover. Great! I’d be able to complete the rest of my treatment still on time, but have the luxury of taking three of the remaining weeks off from chemo! Hooray! As predicted, my treatment lasted all of 30 minutes and we headed home.

You just gotta know where this is all going, right?

Yep, I had a reaction to the “non-reaction drug”, too. This time, my face is numb. The inside of my mouth is numb, my tongue is numb (can’t taste a thing). In fact, we spend the weekend waiting to call 911 due to anaphylactic shock (thank god it didn’t come to that). Needless to say, we are back to square one.  Figures that I would “breeze” through the toughest rounds of chemo and then have issues with the “easier” rounds…..Damn it.

I have faith in my oncologist. She will figure out a path forward. I have to have faith that she will. Will she put me back on Taxol (at least my face didn’t go numb on it) or will she keep me on Abraxane and onboard with nasty steroids and anti-histamines? She’s got until Thursday to figure it out.