Thank You Oprah

Today, NBC re-aired an Oprah show addressing breast cancer that I did not see when it was originally aired in September 2008.  Christina Applegate, the founder of the Susan G. Komen Foundation, and a bunch of other guests spoke with Oprah about surviving breast cancer, breast cancer detection and treatment, and the BRCA 1 and 2 gene mutations.  I definitely cried, laughed, and was inspired by all the women on the show.  It was refreshing to hear other women talk about their experiences and to hear that their experiences were very similar to mine.  The most powerful narratives were those describing the moment they were diagnosed.  They experienced the same fear, apprehension, anger, and intuition I did when I was diagnosed.  It’s something only a fellow survivor can really understand.

Christina Applegate described mourning the loss of her breasts — how she had a final nude photo shoot before her mastectomies, being sure to take close-up photos of every angle of her breasts so that she could remember them.  I understand this too well.  I asked my friend Azur to cast my chest in plaster the night before my mastectomies so that I, too, would always remember what my chest looked like before.  I look at that plaster cast everyday, and it helps with the grieving process.

There were other themes that hit a chord with me as I watched today’s show.  Christina Applegate told Oprah that after her diagnosis she spoke with Melissa Etheridge, who told Christina the cancer was a blessing – that Christina’s diagnosis has given her the opportunity to start over and make changes in her life that she may have considered in the past but not pulled the trigger on.  Oh, how I can relate to this.  It is such a weird thing to say, but Karla was definitely a blessing to me.  I was in an unhealthy relationship and living an unhealthy life but doing nothing to change my path.  Cancer was the explosion in my world that was necessary to derail my stagnant ways and teach me to deal with and accept change, be more self aware and honest, and actively make better choices.  I can’t say I’m unafraid of what’s on the horizon, but I can say that I am much better equipped to get there in one piece and deal with whatever life throws my way.

Most of the women on the show described their experiences battling cancer as a spiritual journey.  And a guest whose cancer spread to her lungs and brain declared that she has learned that it’s not how long she lives but what she does with her life while she’s here that matters.  Facing death definitely gave me a spiritual perspective I did not have prior to my diagnosis.  I have learned and continue to learn how to take nothing for granted in my world, give a shout-out to the heavens once in a while for the many blessings I have, and to, as I have put it in prior blog entries, “live the shit out of the life I have.”  If I can do my best to accomplish those things every day, I don’t care how or when I make my grand exit, because I know I will have lived a full life.

Another guest discussed how breast cancer taught her to be “real,” setting aside the facade she put forth before her revelations in this regard.  She explained that we don’t have to be  ”superwomen” all the time.  It’s what’s inside that counts and breast cancer allowed her to find her true self.  This has been one of my biggest struggles on this journey.  I have always thought of myself as a strong person, and the superwoman description often fits the way I function in my world.  I juggle a ton of shit always with a smile on my face.  But Karla knocked my ass down so hard, I was forced to admit that I am not superwoman and allow the true me to define herself.  I continue to grow and change every day, and I am excited by the thought of what I’ll be like when all is said and done with this chapter of my life.  For the first time in my life, I can say that I am truly comfortable in my own skin.

So thank you, Oprah.  Although I usually try to avoid all daytime programming (especially the talk show variety), I found today’s show very enlightening, educational, and inspiring.

The message I took away from Oprah show inspired today’s song selection:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Q_7QG2d528.

All By Myself

Let me preface this blog entry by recognizing that I am very far from alone in this world.  I have an amazing family and a super supportive group of friends all over the country (and world for that matter).  However, I started this journey with Karla about the same time I ended my three-year relationship with Alex, so I have had many moments where I am reminded that my story is unlike someone with a spouse, significant other, family member, or even a pet living with them.  I am alone on this path, and it is very sobering to be reminded of this fact.

I had one of those moments the night before my surgery on Monday.  Two of my closest girlfriends, Penelope E and Jackie, were planning to accompany me to Virginia Mason on Monday.  Jackie was going to take me to the hospital for my 7:30 a.m. check-in time and Penelope E was going to tag team with Jackie to follow up at the tail end of the day to check me out of the hospital that afternoon after my surgery.  All of us attended a baby shower earlier that Sunday afternoon, and I left the party early to have dinner with Martin and turn in early to get enough rest that night.  I also wanted to get enough sleep so that I could get in one final early morning run before leaving for the hospital.

After I left the party and Martin and I had finished eating dinner at my place, Penelope E, Jackie, and a few of our friends continued the celebration at a bar across the street from my condo.  Penelope E came over to serenade Martin and me on my balcony from the sidewalk below.  I assumed Penelope E would be taking over the afternoon shift at Virginia Mason, so I didn’t give her many of my early morning details.  When she asked how I was planning to get to the hospital in the morning, I told her Jackie was going to take me, and in her jovial state Penelope E indicated that I may have to find “alternate arrangements.”

I interpreted her comment to mean that Jackie was too drunk or something had happened that was going to impede Jackie’s ability to drive me to the hospital the next day.  I came back into my condo from my balcony to scroll through the contacts in my phone to figure out who else could check me in for my surgery.  With Jackie and Penelope E potentially compromised and Martin obligated to work on Monday morning, I called the next person on my “short list,”  Amy, who I’ve blogged about several times in the past.  Amy is my best friend from college, has always been by my side during times of need, and has supported me throughout this whole ordeal with Karla and my reconstruction.  However, when I called Amy that Sunday night, her roommate David answered the phone and reminded me that Amy left for D.C. earlier that week.  I totally spaced that Amy was going to D.C. for a vacation with her parents.  I felt my heart drop into my feet.  “D.C.?” I muttered to myself.  David asked me if I was okay.  I told him I would be, quickly hanging up the phone. 

As I sat on my couch alone, staring at the ended call with David on my phone, I proceeded to have the biggest panic attack I’ve had in a long time.  I knew that the hospital would not allow me to have my surgery unless I had someone with me to check me in.  Three of the people I have relied on during my journey with Karla were out of commission, and Amy, the last person on my “short list,” was out of town.  I could feel my face getting flushed, so I went to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face.  As I stared at myself in the mirror, I started to cry.  Every emotion related to fear, anger, and helplessness overcame me.  I can’t explain why I had such a visceral reaction, but I proceeded to have a meltdown that left me bawling on my bathroom floor, despite the fact that: (1) I knew it was likely that Penelope E was joking; and (2) even if she wasn’t joking, I knew I would be able to find someone else to take me to the hospital the next morning.  For the first time in a long time, I felt truly alone and helpless.  Those feelings are usually so foreign to me that I was at a loss for how to process them in that moment.   I curled up in a ball and continued to cry.

In the end, the misunderstanding with Penelope E and Jackie was worked out and I obviously made it to the hospital okay and in time for my surgery, which went well.  But it was helpful to have the perspective shift I experienced that Sunday evening.  Most of the time I feel so loved that it’s like there are a million people in the same room as me making sure I’m well cared for.  As a result, I fear that I take my friends for granted and may have become too flip in the way I process my world, assuming that things will work themselves out and someone will get my back all the time.  The reality is that I don’t have the luxury of relying on a spouse, significant other, or family member to help out when I’m unable to help myself.  Friends are different — they don’t have the same level of obligation of a partner or family member.  It’s a lot to ask of my friends to get my back all the time. 

So today, on my 33rd birthday, let me take a moment to point out the obvious — this talk about being alone is all a bunch of crap because we’re all alone.  Partnered or unpartnered, those with family living next door to them or those who have not one living next of kin — at the end of the day, we were all born alone and we will all make our grand exit the same way.  On Sunday, I was reminded that I should be very grateful for my unique group of friends who take care of me and who I love like family because they are accompanying me on this otherwise lonely path, supporting me, and making me laugh along the way.  For that, I am truly grateful.

From today’s title I bet you could predict I’d choose this as today’s soundtrack: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=267NP2XBxmg.

Surgery Update

Since I’m on a bunch of Percoset, I’ll make this brief, but I just want to let everyone know that my surgery went well.  Dr. Paige tells me that there is a small section of “thin skin” at the bottom of my left boob that he intends to monitor as I heal, but otherwise he is quite pleased with the results.

I have much more to share about the path leading up to my surgery early this morning, but I will share when I’m not so hopped up on painkillers.  I’m feeling so chill right now on my oxycodone, I leave you with this for today’s soundtrack: http://www.imeem.com/light726/music/yw4yNdM5/orsten-fleur-blanche/.

TGIF — Seriously.

My COBRA has officially been processed and I am now covered under my old health insurance through UnitedHealthcare.  Pat emailed me yesterday to let me know the good news and that I should have no problems with my providers after today.  Megan, another representative at UHC who took a personal interest in my case when I first spoke with her in mid-April, called me later that afternoon to make sure I knew my election form had been processed and to make sure I didn’t have any unanswered questions.  What a 180-degree turn!  I’m extremely pleased that I can now set this issue aside and focus on my care and treatment.

Which brings me to the second amazing news I have to share — I no longer have to have my right ovary looked at.  My gynecologist’s office called me to alert me that the masses on my right ovary have “resolved.”  I don’t know what the hell that means, but you can imagine how relieved I am.  I’ve put this issue out of my mind as a stress-coping mechanism, trying to juggle and deal with the many other balls I have currently in the air.  Now that my right ovary is no longer an issue, my heart feels much lighter.  I have bought myself more quality time with my ovaries.  Now I just have to figure out the next appropriate step regarding my reproductive timeline.  I have to admit, in recent months I’ve questioned my desire to have my own kids for various reasons.  However, I’ll save that diatribe for another blog entry.

I’ve been filled with so much stress and anxiety over the past month-and-a-half because of my ovarian cancer woes and the snail’s pace of my COBRA processing, it’s actually a bit emotionally overwhelming to have these things fianlly resolved.  It’s very weird to feel like I want to laugh and cry at the same time.  This news comes at the best time, however, as I can now focus on the next hurdle in my path – my surgery on Monday.  I fear I’ve become a bit desensitized to surgery in general.  The truth is that I’m going under the knife for the sixth time in my almost 33 years (my birthday’s coming up on the 23rd).  I like to joke with my 73-year-old father that I’ve had almost as many surgeries as he has.  Like it’s a badge of honor or something.  In the end, it’s a big pain in the ass and a significant risk.  I trust my surgeon, but he doesn’t get to control all the variables.  As I’ve blogged about many times in the past, we can die from anything, and the moment we become too flippant about how we handle the gift we’ve been given is the same moment we will undoubtedly be reminded of how easy it is to lose.  Sheesh.  Me getting preachy so early this morning.  Sorry for the sermon.

Well, this Friday has definitely started off right.  The weather is supposed to be absolutely beautiful and I am going to go on a nice, long run to enjoy the sun and my last weekend of being able to work out for a while.  Then later tonight I’m hosting my girlfriend Sydni’s birthday party tonight.  It’s a costume party that requires extravagance and fabulousity of its attendees.  How appropriate for how I’m feeling today.  Hell, I’m going to wear a ball gown tonight.

The title of today’s soundtrack sums it up for me today.  Do a happy dance with me:   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w-DcNPFWhbk.

COBRA Update and Thoughts on the Cost of Prescription Medications

Squeaky wheels get oiled, right?  Isn’t that the saying?  Perhaps my blog tirade did the trick, but whatever the case, I was (un)pleasantly woken up at 6:30 this morning by Pat, a supervisor COBRA processing representative at UnitedHealthcare.  She was initially curt with me on the phone, explaining that UHCis in the process of sifting through 40,000 COBRA election forms.  She reiterated that UHC still has not logged receipt of my COBRA election form.  However, after a minute with me on the phone, me explaining my struggles with UHC over the past five weeks and the fact that I’m treating for breast cancer and scheduled to go into surgery on Monday, she became a lot more receptive to my ordeal.  I told her of all my attempts to forward UHC my election form and she continued to apologize for the delay.  She kept suggesting several methods I have already tried several times (e.g. faxing, emailing, calling, online).  I asked Pat if she had a personal fax number I could fax my election form to, and she responded by telling me that I could email her a scanned copy of my election form, which I did.  Pat emailed me almost immediately, assuring me that my form would be processed by tomorrow morning.  After all I’ve been through, I am trying my best to remain positive.  Keep your fingers crossed. 

I fronted the last of my disposable income to pay for my Tamoxifen this upcoming month, which I ran out of today.  I haven’t filled my prescription for pain killers to sustain me after my Monday surgery because I’m out of money to front for extra medical expenses.  I will have to deal with the remaining Percoset I have remaining from my January surgery.  Let’s hope this Percoset is not expired and that it lasts.  Prescription medications are killing me.  These are not necessarily “elective” medications — one keeps me out of pain after surgery (Percoset), one keeps my estrogen levels down to prevent recurrent cancer (Tamoxifen), one keeps my vajayjay from looking like I’m 80 years old (Estring), and the others prevent me from busting a stitch by sneezing up a storm during this hay fever season (Nasonex & Allegra-D).  I’m amazed  by how much prescription medications cost without insurance.  I can’t imagine what surviving is like for someone without medical insurance.  I refer you all to my observations in my 2/24/2009 blog post about our health care system.  Jesus.  Again, I’m reminded of how blessed I am.

I remain hopeful that tomorrow I will receive an email from Pat indicating that my COBRA election form has been processed. 

As a shout-out to all my cheerleaders during this COBRA debacle, the title of today’s soundtrack represents my fight with UHC: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uiCRZLr9oRw.

COBRA Frustrations

Brace yourselves, I’m pretty fucking angry right now and I am going to use today’s blog entry as an opportunity to vent.  It’s been almost five weeks since I sent my COBRA election form to my health insurance company, UnitedHealthcare, and UHC still has not processed my form.  I have spoken to more people than I can count on both hands, faxed my election form twice, emailed my election form, and filled out a form online.  If I had messenger pigeons I would have used them too, since UHC is obviously having a problem with technology.  They keep telling me that they have not yet logged receipt of my election form.

I’ve had three representatives tell me they are “expediting” the processing of my form (with an alleged 48-hour turnaround) and I am still waiting for a supervisor to call me back.  Now I understand that the recent changes to COBRA coupled with our nation’s rising unemployment rate have made a lot of health insurance companies extremely busy processing COBRA election forms, but WTF?  How hard is it to input data for eight questions that are answered with a “yes” or “no?”

Because my COBRA election has not yet been processed, I have had to pay full price for all of my medications since being let go by my firm (over $300 for what would otherwise be $100) and I have a buttload more medications that I will need to fill within the next week (including my Tamoxifen).  I have no clue how I’m going to afford to pay for my prescriptions if I am forced to pay full price.  Additionally, my surgeons are very concerned about how to bill for my upcoming surgeries.  My tissue expanders are supposed to be switched out for my silicone gel implants on Monday the 18th, but I’m not sure if my plastic surgeon will be able to move forward if my COBRA stuff isn’t worked out before I’m scheduled go under the knife.  What really pisses me off is that the some of the people I’ve spoken to at UHC don’t seem to get it when I explain to them that I am treating for breast cancer and am scheduled for surgery on the 18th that I may not be able to have if they don’t process my form soon.   Today, in response to me explaining this to yet another representative, the representative told me she would “expedite” the processing of my form.  I broke down and cried on the phone before hanging up. 

UHC has given a whole new meaning to the word “incompetent.”  I swear to God, if I miss my surgery date because of UHC’s inability to process my COBRA form, I’m going to go postal.  Perhaps tomorrow I will take a messenger pigeon approach and fax and email a fucking flock of forms to their office . . . all day long.  Jesus, I’ve not been this angry in a long time.  I think I may need a stiff drink.

Bear with today’s soundtrack: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1M8vei3L0L8.  I grew up in an era where “gansta rap” was making its mark on music, and whenever I was angry I’d throw this in my tape deck to highlight my mood.  Imagine a short Asian girl blasting this from her beater 1984 Isuzu pickup.  Too funny.

Happy Birthday, Mom

May 5th holds special meaning to me.  It’s not just Cinco de Mayo or Boys’ Day, but it is also my Mom’s birthday.  For those of you who have been reading my blog for a while, I’ve earlier blogged about how my Mom died when I was very young of what we thought at the time was lung cancer (she was a big smoker) that had spread to her breast.  We now know it was likely the other way around.  Thus, every May 5th I am reminded of the Mom I lost to breast cancer.

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while you also know that temporal markers are important to me, and this time last year I was receiving the last of the Adriamycin/Cytoxin chemotherapy crap that ended up hitting me pretty hard.  Those days are all still fresh in my mind — the regular trips to the second floor of Virginia Mason hospital; deciding what hat, scarf, or turban to wear to work each day; and struggling with the decision of what kind of surgical intervention was best to excise Karla.  It floors me when I think about how different I am now in every way.  My body, work, romantic status, outlook on life, and spirit are all much different from a year ago.  With my body still in transition and many other parts of my life up in the air, I continue to change as each day goes by.  It will be interesting to see who emerges at the end of the day when all is said and done and there are no more surgeries to plan for.

So today, although I mourn the loss of my Mother, I must also remember the journey I am on and how blessed I am to be where I’m at right now.  I want to welcome the opportunity to celebrate how lucky I am to have found Karla as early as I did and to be alive and well, and today is one of those days.

Though the season is a bit off, today’s soundtrack is very fitting since I recently saw the movie La Vie en Rose and this song was one of my Mom’s favorites.  As a child learning piano, I found my Mom’s sheet music for this song and I taught myself how to play it.  After I mastered it, I would play it every day on her birthday.  Enjoy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2s2tPORlW4.