a new year, and the new plan

The holidays have a great way of distracting me. It comforted me to think, “I can deal with my health stuff after the holidays...” At least I had the holidays to consume my thoughts and my energy. But I came back to work on Monday morning with a foggy feeling like I forgot something. At work, I am catapulted back into my life—and remember what I forgot while on my siesta—there are emails that remind me about the troubled economy, my to-do lists, and little scratchy notes about Sloan Kettering. The holidays can no longer distance me from my reality.

A nice reality on the first Monday of the New Year has to be the Low Iodine Diet (LID). AHHH, just while every other diet crazed person is doing the same, I too I am following the herd. This is the first time ever that I’ve been on a New Year diet—but this of course is no ordinary diet—you can’t stray. But, this is my THIRD time on the LID diet (first time for treatment, second for testing, and third for this treatment). I am comfortable with all the prep work/cooking involved and sometimes I really get into it. I even now, have a few favorite LID recipes and a semi-permanent LID cookbook with my other cookbooks (I hope to remove this imposter soon).

This diet is a medical diet and it’s used to prepare and starve my body of iodine, so thyroid cancer cells will avidly consume radioactive iodine during treatment. It usually lasts for three weeks, but because I’m crazy, I do it for four weeks. I think I do it so I can prove to myself that I can do it, and because I want those thyroid cells to be STARVING for iodine. To read more about the LID go to this post.

One thing to be said for this diet is that when you are on it, you really feel that you are doing something. You feel in control of your cancer and it’s kind of fun to think of the cells starving and then getting tricked into gobbling up radioactive food instead. It makes each day on the diet easier to think on this.

Ok, so early in December was the last time I even mentioned the "C" word, so what’s the deal/ plan? Since I’m on the LID, there is in fact a plan! I decided to move my care down to Memorial Sloan Kettering after a lot of back and forth—mostly due to money and contract confusion with my insurance company.

When I decided to move my care down there, I thought I would have to pay $3,500—but to my surprise, insurance came through on Dec 30th and they are paying for everything at MSK, at least for now. In addition, a very kind soul offered her apartment in New York for me to use as I wish over the three testing/treatment period. The amazing thing is that I’ve never met the owner of this apartment, but she heard my story and wanted to help.

I am blow away by the grace of God and the intervention His will on my situation—the compassion of a stranger and the great turn of events with my insurance company. What gifts I have received, worries elevated, and spirit renewed!

new york city part II

When you get close to Memorial Sloan Kettering there are subtle hints of suffering amidst this city of opulence—requests for donations of blood and platelets, fragments of conversations about cancer, and sick people walking the streets.

When I walked these streets years ago, I didn't see all of this. Then I hammered through my New York life in a fog, wanting to get to the next place really fast, worked up, and unaware of the hardships of a city and people—which extends beyond shopping, finance, museums and restaurants. The things we usually associate with New York. For this sobering experience, I will always be thankful.

Anxiety started to settle over me before the doctor came in. I began to pray for everyone in the hospital—receiving chemo and other treatments or reports. It’s powerful to pray for people you don’t even know in their presence.

So, as the details of my cancer are better left vague here—it mirrors the information I know. While my consult was well worth it, and I now have a treatment direction—a new set of questions and ambiguity have unraveled. Questions are sometimes never answered but decisions do need to be made. I trust and know that God will continue to guide my path towards recovery.

scrambling

Christmas came early for me vis-à-vis a bumped up appointment at Memorial Sloan Kettering… I was absolutely thrilled (crazy as it is). Although I’ve been working with my doctors in Albany, I needed to go to MSK for their insight.

Without looking at my schedule or my husband’s, I quickly accepted the appointment. My only problem was that the night before, I had sent all my inner workups (my PET/CT scan on a disc and I-131 scans) via pony express NOT fedex, because I thought I had over a month to get it all down there, so why would I waste all that money??? I always use Fedex—but we’re in a recession, we’re supposed to be cutting back… right?

I found out at 5pm on Friday that my appointment would be in NYC that Monday. Due to the mail mix up, I quickly called the radiology techs from two different offices to locate all the “pictures.” Well, the techs call them “pictures” which to me is reminiscent of a first grade picture day. I supposed “pictures” don’t sound as scary as "scan."

I pleaded with each office twice and then apologized profusely for calling so late on a Friday afternoon. For a second time, I needed the disc burned and images printed out first thing Monday. By the grace of God, it seemed like it was all going to be possible. I knew that my appointment at MSK would be worthless without the images.

So Monday morning I went to fetch the pieces of me—little images and splices of tissues and cells in my body—most behaving, and some not.

Whether you can let yourself go there or not—seeing the inside of the human body is fascinating—the organs and bones working to carry out life and a silhouette that really looks as if it belongs to you.

So, everything was ready and packed up in our car to head to New York City. The basis of my condition comes down to: images, blood work and a few reports.

While away, Owen was cared for my father (who's just back from Texas—what timing) and my in-laws. Before I let him go—we had some “deferred maintenance” that needed to be attended to—trimming Owen’s nails, thoroughly brushing his teeth, filling out tardy paperwork for daycare and some generalized obsessive organizing…

Just need to be sure my nest is in order.

And then life seems ok.