all's well that ends well?

Yesterday I went to follow up on the nonocclusive thrombus (and by the way - doesn't thrombus sound like the name of the brooms from Harry Potter?). According to the ultrasound technician I have excellent blood flow - and in fact she said: "If everyone's veins were this great it would make my day" (yes, she said I could quote her). So I guess I'm still perfect on the inside as far as any machines can tell. I am not sure how soon it will sink in that I'm over a big hump. Getting the "all clear" for cancer at the 2-year mark was a bit muddled with the news of the thrombus - you know, the one that wasn't even there.

Also, the irony was not lost on me that I am one of the team captains for Deloitte's Heart Walk. As I was sitting in the waiting room yesterday to get my ultrasound, I missed an update call for team leads before the walk this weekend. I was weighing the importance getting donations to help fund technology and education to do stroke and heart disease research as I was waiting to go into a room where I was examined by an Intern using said equipment.  The really funny part is that when I was asked to take on the heart walk role I didn't really feel like it was "my cause". Sure I knew people who had been affected; but I didn't have a deep personal need to raise money.  In a matter of a few weeks that all changed as I spent this whole weekend stressing that I could have a blood clot that would lodge itself in some critical place in my body and kill me. Darn it.

So - even though I had no intention of trying hard to raise money... if you want to donate to the Heart Walk that I'm doing this weekend you can:

http://pugetsoundheartwalk.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=1001672&lis=1&kntae1001672=8D5D3E0AD91A4948971A565DBF2E6168&supId=49265494

can't we just move on?

It's been two years and a few days since my last radiation treatment.  It feels like both a blink of an eye and eons at the same time. I have made many new friends in the last two years. People who never knew me B.C. and many who probably don't even know about it.

I mentioned a while back that my insurance company had denied my CAT scan at 18 months post treatment.  About a week ago I went back to the doctor and we discussed how I have been feeling and went through a very detailed review of any possible symptoms. Turns out that seems to have done the trick because the insurance company quickly pre-approved a CAT scan. I went in for the scan on Friday Oct 12th. I then had to wait, and wait, and wait. I called the doctor's office around 1pm - because by then they were supposed to have received a copy of the report from the scan. There was good news and bad news. OF  COURSE there was good news and bad news. The good news is that there is NO SIGN OF CANCER! WOOO-HOOO!

The bad news is that there is a little something that concerns them... A nonocclusive thrombus at the confluence of the left subclavian and internal jugular veins. Yeah - and if you actually know what that means and what I should do about it, please tell me. Although I'm not convinced that it's actually anything to worry about yet. I am going to get an ultrasound later this afternoon. More to come...

Our doctor knows more than your doctor

So you're probably wondering why I haven't posted about the results of my last CAT scan, right? Since my last post was in May and I was already a few days behind getting it scheduled it is logical to assume I have already had my scan and that all things were fine. This is assumed because I would have posted otherwise, right? Well enter stage left an insurance company. Not an EVIL insurance company. Just your regular old FOR-PROFIT insurance company. During my treatment I was pretty happy with my medical insurance company. I know I joyfully challenged my disability insurance each time they closed or rejected a claim; but my health care coverage was pretty easy to deal with.

Now that I'm due for "routine monitoring" THEY disagree with my doctor's belief that I should have a CAT scan. THEY think that I should have new symptoms before I get a scan. THEY are jerks. Up to 70% of patients with my facts and circumstances will relapse - and the majority of recurrences happen within 2 years of diagnosis.  Sure most of those probably had some severe symptom. But that's what alternatively enrages me and has caused me to be somewhat of an Ostrich with my head in the sand. I didn't have any symptoms before the cancer was detected. You know, it was detected at stage 4, had spread to my lymph nodes, and I had a tumor the size of a walnut on my ovary. I didn't have any discomfort, no pain in my bones, no bleeding, and I was running 20-ish miles a week.

It seems pretty simple to me that this is the most critical time to be vigilant with surveillance. It's a shame that my insurance company disagrees.

How quickly we forget...

When I started this blog I made a commitment that I would keep writing. That has been hard for me. I no longer have all the "free time" I did when I was in treatment. I certainly don't wish for it back, but my posts have become shorter and longer apart. I had a cancer checkup in February and everything was fine. Today I went in for a mammogram. This was as a follow-up to the mammogram I had in November. It was a quick trip today and I was able to get my pictures taken and reviewed almost immediately. Luckily things were "probably benign" so I don't have to go back in for another 6 months. Yippee for what it's worth.

I am also due for my next cat scan. I am actually a few days delinquent in scheduling it. I had contemplated having my mammogram and cat scan on the same day; but realized that you just shouldn't try to pack that much fun into a Wednesday.  There's another reason I let things slide a bit. I am writing this while sitting in a hospital with my aunt. She's not doing well. Not well at all. So I am going to spend the week worrying about her. I'll get to my CAT scan soon enough. And if you're really worried I promise I will call tomorrow and get the next available reasonable appointment.