Tuesday, October 23, 2007
May Have Played the Cancer Card
This past weekend I drove to Cleveland to see my dad and visit with my Grandma, aunts, one uncle, and several of my cousin's kids. On the way there, I was pulled over by one of Michigan's finest. I was driving somewhat fast-ish, and figured I deserved a speeding ticket.
When he pulled me over and asked for my license, registration, and proof of insurance, I accidentally gave him the Saturn registration and utterly failed to find my proof of insurance (which turned out to be at home in a different purse). Then he pointed out to me that my license tags had expired. Of course...my birthday came and went. I completely forgot about renewing my tags as the Secretary of State had not seen fit--for the second time this year--to send a renewal notice. Then he also pointed out that the expired registration indicated the car was a four-door and not a two-door. "Were you aware of that?"
"No," I squeaked.
He went back to his vehicle and did whatever it is they do back there while you are squirming in your seat. I might have cried a little bit. I blew my nose.
When he came back, he told me he would let me off with a warning, but I needed to get it taken care of right away. "Be careful," he told me.
I was very surprised, since I actually had committed a number of offenses (although the only one I did on purpose involved the celerity with which I was zipping down the road). I had not put on a wig that day, figuring the back would just get tangled in the car and I'd swap the bandana for hair when I got closer to Grandma's house.
Maybe I inadvertently played the cancer card. Maybe he decided not to give the bald lady a ticket because he'd feel guilty doing it.
It does happen: I think people panic and become unsettled with somebody who looks visibly ill or different. I have on more than one occasion cut to the front of the baby frappuccino line at Race for the Cure. Hollywood stars get clothes and jewelry all the time for looking abnormally fabulous; have you ever seen the amazing bags of swag they get for going to the Oscars? No one's giving me iPods, furs, and expensive perfume. No one need be jealous of us if we play the card from time to time--whether we mean to or not.
Neupogen to boost your white blood cell count: $1000
A Year's worth of chemo and Avastin: $100,000
A trip to the ER for an emergency CT scan: $50
Getting out of a ticket because you're bald and feeble: priceless.
When he pulled me over and asked for my license, registration, and proof of insurance, I accidentally gave him the Saturn registration and utterly failed to find my proof of insurance (which turned out to be at home in a different purse). Then he pointed out to me that my license tags had expired. Of course...my birthday came and went. I completely forgot about renewing my tags as the Secretary of State had not seen fit--for the second time this year--to send a renewal notice. Then he also pointed out that the expired registration indicated the car was a four-door and not a two-door. "Were you aware of that?"
"No," I squeaked.
He went back to his vehicle and did whatever it is they do back there while you are squirming in your seat. I might have cried a little bit. I blew my nose.
When he came back, he told me he would let me off with a warning, but I needed to get it taken care of right away. "Be careful," he told me.
I was very surprised, since I actually had committed a number of offenses (although the only one I did on purpose involved the celerity with which I was zipping down the road). I had not put on a wig that day, figuring the back would just get tangled in the car and I'd swap the bandana for hair when I got closer to Grandma's house.
Maybe I inadvertently played the cancer card. Maybe he decided not to give the bald lady a ticket because he'd feel guilty doing it.
It does happen: I think people panic and become unsettled with somebody who looks visibly ill or different. I have on more than one occasion cut to the front of the baby frappuccino line at Race for the Cure. Hollywood stars get clothes and jewelry all the time for looking abnormally fabulous; have you ever seen the amazing bags of swag they get for going to the Oscars? No one's giving me iPods, furs, and expensive perfume. No one need be jealous of us if we play the card from time to time--whether we mean to or not.
Neupogen to boost your white blood cell count: $1000
A Year's worth of chemo and Avastin: $100,000
A trip to the ER for an emergency CT scan: $50
Getting out of a ticket because you're bald and feeble: priceless.
Labels: Avastin, baldness, birthday, chemo, CT scan, Dad, Grandma, hospital, Neupogen, Race for the Cure, vacation, wigs
Friday, June 15, 2007
Sleep: the Dream That Eludes
I had a nasty cold last week (which now Brian seems to be getting). It has progressed to a nagging, unproductive cough, robbing me of sleep and sanity. I sound awful, and not just because of the retainers. It is an effort to squeeze sound out of my throat. I showed up for work yesterday because I had four meetings I really didn't think I could skip; people there keep looking at me funny.
I was coughing at infusion on Tuesday, so the nurses had me talk to a PA. The PA asked me a series of questions about my cough and thought it might be a "reactive airway" thing, and asked if I'd ever had asthma. She set me up with an appointment with my general practitioner for Wednesday evening--I went to the doctor and wrote down as my reason for visit: "horrible, sleep-depriving cough." She gave me a boatload of medications (prednisone, an antibiotic, special cough medicine with a narcotic) and promised I would be able to sleep that night. The codeine made me loopy, I saw weird stuff when I closed my eyes, but I could not stop coughing and my brain would not shut off.
I'm still supposed to go for a chest ex-ray, even though everyone agrees my lungs sound ok. I just can't breathe without hacking. I am wary of trying to drive anywhere, even to get the chest ex-ray. I know that I am impaired.
I can't even think of a clever way to conclude this post. It looks like I will not be traveling to Cleveland this weekend (it would have worked out great...seeing my dad on Father's Day...quel bummer). I am going to try to drag my carcass to Race for the Cure Saturday. Maybe I should call and beg the doctor for either some kind of inhaler or a horse tranquilizer.
I was coughing at infusion on Tuesday, so the nurses had me talk to a PA. The PA asked me a series of questions about my cough and thought it might be a "reactive airway" thing, and asked if I'd ever had asthma. She set me up with an appointment with my general practitioner for Wednesday evening--I went to the doctor and wrote down as my reason for visit: "horrible, sleep-depriving cough." She gave me a boatload of medications (prednisone, an antibiotic, special cough medicine with a narcotic) and promised I would be able to sleep that night. The codeine made me loopy, I saw weird stuff when I closed my eyes, but I could not stop coughing and my brain would not shut off.
I'm still supposed to go for a chest ex-ray, even though everyone agrees my lungs sound ok. I just can't breathe without hacking. I am wary of trying to drive anywhere, even to get the chest ex-ray. I know that I am impaired.
I can't even think of a clever way to conclude this post. It looks like I will not be traveling to Cleveland this weekend (it would have worked out great...seeing my dad on Father's Day...quel bummer). I am going to try to drag my carcass to Race for the Cure Saturday. Maybe I should call and beg the doctor for either some kind of inhaler or a horse tranquilizer.
Labels: Brian, Cleveland, codeine, Dad, infusion, prednisone, Race for the Cure, sick days
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure in Detroit
Most of the (three, maybe four) people who look at this blog have probably already received solicitation emails, but it doesn't hurt to ask more than once.
Please consider sponsoring me in this year's Race for the Cure.
Few people know that Susan G. Komen, for whom the foundation was named, died of breast cancer at age 36. She listened to her doctors, didn't think to go to a research center, was pronounced "cured," and then found out (horribly) that her doctors were mistaken.
Sound familiar?
Susan G. Komen was treated for her recurrent cancer in a time when the medications I am on didn't exist. Perhaps with more advanced treatment, she could have survived. The drugs I am on now didn't exist just a few years ago, and I hope that even better treatments come along in the near future.
The Susan G. Komen Race for the cure is dedicated to supporting "the eradication of breast cancer as a life-threatening disease." I'd like to see that shortened to "the eradication of breast cancer." Neither will happen without awareness, better screening, patient advocacy and research, all of which are causes supported by Race for the Cure.
You can support it, too.
A year and a half ago, I wasn't sure I'd ever be walking without assistance, and I am happy to be participating in the Race for the Cure for the second time since then.
I also have very selfish reasons for asking for donations: If I raise enough money, I get a hat. Brian took the hat I got last year so I need another one.
Please consider sponsoring me in this year's Race for the Cure.
Few people know that Susan G. Komen, for whom the foundation was named, died of breast cancer at age 36. She listened to her doctors, didn't think to go to a research center, was pronounced "cured," and then found out (horribly) that her doctors were mistaken.
Sound familiar?
Susan G. Komen was treated for her recurrent cancer in a time when the medications I am on didn't exist. Perhaps with more advanced treatment, she could have survived. The drugs I am on now didn't exist just a few years ago, and I hope that even better treatments come along in the near future.
The Susan G. Komen Race for the cure is dedicated to supporting "the eradication of breast cancer as a life-threatening disease." I'd like to see that shortened to "the eradication of breast cancer." Neither will happen without awareness, better screening, patient advocacy and research, all of which are causes supported by Race for the Cure.
You can support it, too.
A year and a half ago, I wasn't sure I'd ever be walking without assistance, and I am happy to be participating in the Race for the Cure for the second time since then.
I also have very selfish reasons for asking for donations: If I raise enough money, I get a hat. Brian took the hat I got last year so I need another one.
Labels: awareness, Brian, Race for the Cure
