Hitting the wall
We all do it. Some more than others.
I hit it yesterday. What is hitting the wall? It is when you have no more strength to fight or even to put up the pretense of fighting.
Yesterday, I found out from my oncologist that the IV chemo plan we had discussed was a no go. My insurance would not pay for it until I tried at least two other treatment plans because this IV treatment? It is mind boggling expensive. Imagine the price of your home, paid in full, plus the worth of your car. Now, double it. That is the price of ONE treatment. And I would have to get two per month. Luckily, I have really good insurance. Unluckily, they, like almost every other insurance on the planet...refuse to pay for this treatment until I try two cheaper alternatives.
The rub? These treatments carry side effects that the IV treatment does not. Bad side effects. Acne. Diarrhea. Skin itching and um...shedding. Hair shedding. Bloody noses. And the one that scared me the most: it causes your blood sugar to rise.
I have diabetes that is well controlled. I do not want to mess with uncontrolled diabetes as well as cancer and RA and the host of other ailments that I have.
But, I have to do this. It is a hoop that I must leap through before I can be okayed for the IV chemo that has only a few minor side effects and a good record for prolonging life by about a year and a half.
It seemed ridiculous to me that I would have to endure a treatment that would give me little quality of life in order to qualify for a treatment that would give me good quality of life.
Welcome to cancer treatment in America. I have learned more than I ever wanted to know and I knew a lot to begin with. Cancer treatment is ridiculously pricey and a major cash cow for drug companies. If there is ever a cure for cancer, these companies are going to be scrambling. It is in their best interests if there is NEVER a cure.
I told my oncologist that I did not want to start this treatment until I returned from my vacation in mid July. She was good with that.
It was a hard decision. Do I delay and allow my already aggressive cancer to grow even more? Or do I start asap and risk ruining ten days at a beach side cottage because I cannot leave the home for fear of shitting my pants or going into a diabetic coma? Or both!
It was suddenly all too much. We left the oncologist's office and T went to get the car. I could feel a wave building in me. I bit down HARD on the insides of my cheeks, willing myself not to cry.
T pulled the car up. I got in and......
.....simply collapsed.
I cried so hard that I was choking. All of my anger and fear and pain came rushing to the surface and bubbled out of me. T sat next to me, crying right along with me.
After several moments, I was able to get myself under control. I looked over at T and said, "I know why some people just throw up their hands and say that they don't want treatment, to just let them die."
It was not the most intelligent thing to say. The fear and terror on her face were painful to see.
"You can't stop fighting!" she almost screamed at me. "I won't let you stop fighting!"
I sighed. Picked myself up. Told her that I was sorry for scaring her. That OF COURSE, I would fight. I would fight until I had no quality of life, as we had agreed.
But then....I was done.
And she had to let go of me when I reached that point.
"IF you reach that point," she countered.
She still carries the delusional hope that I am going to beat this one. I didn't have the heart to say any more. So, I let it go. Patted her hand. Smiled at her. It took a lot, but I did it.
Today, at my massage, I lay on the table, letting Cindy, my massage therapist, work out all the knots in my back. She informed me that there were many.
"I don't know what to do,"I told her, embarrassed that I was fighting tears. "I just hate these hoops. And I am just so angry inside."
She was quiet for a moment and then she gently rubbed my temples.
"Why don't you try living one day at a time for now?" she finally said. "I mean, either you can go on this vacation and worry the whole time about having to go on this treatment when you get home or you can go on this vacation and just let the beach have her way with you, bring some love, joy, and healing into your life."
I decided to go with that.
So, one day at a time.
One day at a time.
One day at a time.
One day at a time.
I hit it yesterday. What is hitting the wall? It is when you have no more strength to fight or even to put up the pretense of fighting.
Yesterday, I found out from my oncologist that the IV chemo plan we had discussed was a no go. My insurance would not pay for it until I tried at least two other treatment plans because this IV treatment? It is mind boggling expensive. Imagine the price of your home, paid in full, plus the worth of your car. Now, double it. That is the price of ONE treatment. And I would have to get two per month. Luckily, I have really good insurance. Unluckily, they, like almost every other insurance on the planet...refuse to pay for this treatment until I try two cheaper alternatives.
The rub? These treatments carry side effects that the IV treatment does not. Bad side effects. Acne. Diarrhea. Skin itching and um...shedding. Hair shedding. Bloody noses. And the one that scared me the most: it causes your blood sugar to rise.
I have diabetes that is well controlled. I do not want to mess with uncontrolled diabetes as well as cancer and RA and the host of other ailments that I have.
But, I have to do this. It is a hoop that I must leap through before I can be okayed for the IV chemo that has only a few minor side effects and a good record for prolonging life by about a year and a half.
It seemed ridiculous to me that I would have to endure a treatment that would give me little quality of life in order to qualify for a treatment that would give me good quality of life.
Welcome to cancer treatment in America. I have learned more than I ever wanted to know and I knew a lot to begin with. Cancer treatment is ridiculously pricey and a major cash cow for drug companies. If there is ever a cure for cancer, these companies are going to be scrambling. It is in their best interests if there is NEVER a cure.
I told my oncologist that I did not want to start this treatment until I returned from my vacation in mid July. She was good with that.
It was a hard decision. Do I delay and allow my already aggressive cancer to grow even more? Or do I start asap and risk ruining ten days at a beach side cottage because I cannot leave the home for fear of shitting my pants or going into a diabetic coma? Or both!
It was suddenly all too much. We left the oncologist's office and T went to get the car. I could feel a wave building in me. I bit down HARD on the insides of my cheeks, willing myself not to cry.
T pulled the car up. I got in and......
.....simply collapsed.
I cried so hard that I was choking. All of my anger and fear and pain came rushing to the surface and bubbled out of me. T sat next to me, crying right along with me.
After several moments, I was able to get myself under control. I looked over at T and said, "I know why some people just throw up their hands and say that they don't want treatment, to just let them die."
It was not the most intelligent thing to say. The fear and terror on her face were painful to see.
"You can't stop fighting!" she almost screamed at me. "I won't let you stop fighting!"
I sighed. Picked myself up. Told her that I was sorry for scaring her. That OF COURSE, I would fight. I would fight until I had no quality of life, as we had agreed.
But then....I was done.
And she had to let go of me when I reached that point.
"IF you reach that point," she countered.
She still carries the delusional hope that I am going to beat this one. I didn't have the heart to say any more. So, I let it go. Patted her hand. Smiled at her. It took a lot, but I did it.
Today, at my massage, I lay on the table, letting Cindy, my massage therapist, work out all the knots in my back. She informed me that there were many.
"I don't know what to do,"I told her, embarrassed that I was fighting tears. "I just hate these hoops. And I am just so angry inside."
She was quiet for a moment and then she gently rubbed my temples.
"Why don't you try living one day at a time for now?" she finally said. "I mean, either you can go on this vacation and worry the whole time about having to go on this treatment when you get home or you can go on this vacation and just let the beach have her way with you, bring some love, joy, and healing into your life."
I decided to go with that.
So, one day at a time.
One day at a time.
One day at a time.
One day at a time.
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