Follow-up with oncologist.

Had my follow-up appointment with my oncologist today. In a nutshell, the follow-up plan is to have alternating follow-up MRIs and mammograms every six months, starting with an MRI in April. And we all know how much my last MRI sucked, so I was a bit chagrined to hear that, but what the hell. I can suck it up. In addition, because of the history of cancer in my family in general and my relatively young (ha!) age he recommended that I speak to a genetic counselor, so I'll be making that appointment in the next month or so. Then I'll follow-up with the oncologist again in 6 months too. Woohoo.

Plus I had a real lightbulb moment today regarding my disdain for the lack of customer service in the medical industry in general. I was discussing my last MRI episode with the oncologist and I brought up the term "customer service" and he jumped on that immediately. I was explaining how I wish that they had told me just a couple of little things that would have made the experience so much better and he was really encouraging me to write a letter or talk to someone about it, his philosophy being that the squeaky wheel gets the grease. Now bear in mind that for this, my THIRD visit to his office, I had once again been subjected to a one hour wait in his waiting room. So...........seriously???? He had the nerve to sit there and tell me to complain to the hospital when his office is no great shakes? And that's when my lightbulb moment hit.........he said that it's really all about "patient care" and I realized that, in the medical world, "patient care" and "customer service" are the same thing. But to the rest of us non-medical people, it's just not. To me, "patient care" and "customer service" are two parallel yet divergent things.

You see, I have absolutely no complaints whatsoever about the level of "patient care" I have received. Everyone has been competent, sensitive, informative and professional when it comes to the medical stuff. My surgeon was a veritable artist - my scar is barely discernible. Every nurse or other ancillary medical professional has been sensitive and competent. The radiation techs and radiologists were absolute experts at everything they did. That is top-notch "patient care". But what I have an issue with is their insensitivity to the fact that my time is just as valuable as theirs, that there isn't a lot of "common sense" being practiced in the "business" of the medical industry, and that a little honesty and organization could go a really long way. That is poor "customer service".

Now I guess that it could be argued that their business is only to take care of me and to make me well and, that, they did in spades. And, really, it's not like they'll never run out of "customers" - people will always get sick and always need medical help, so theres not really a lot of incentive for them to change. But, man.........the business-woman in me just can't shake this and it's driving me nuts. It's a sad thing to say, but I think I just may have to relent and lower my expectations about this. That's pretty tough for a "half glass full" kind of gal like me.

Happy New Year!

If anyone out there is still checking in on the blog, I just wanted to say Happy New Year and to wish everyone wonderful good health in the coming New Year! I intend to be healthy and happy throughout the year.

I have follow-up appointments with the oncologist and the radiation oncologist this month and will post info after those visits just to keep everyone informed.

Thanks to all of you for all of your support last year. It meant the world to me.

Much love!

WAH-HOO!!!!!!

I AM FINISHED!!!

Today was my last day of treatment. They took blood one last time (after two attempts, meaning two bruises - guess I'll be looking for a long-sleeved dress for Jessi's wedding!), scheduled a follow-up appointment for one month, and sent me on my way.

I am SO HAPPY!

So about that waiting area.

I mentioned in one of my prior posts about the waiting area and had noted that I would touch on it later. So, something happened at one of my treatment visits this week that reminded me to get back to it.

When you go to the Cancer Treatment Center, you bypass the "public" waiting area/lobby and go to an area that is accessible - conceivably - only to other cancer patients and, presumably, hospital staff. There are a couple of small waiting rooms built into alcoves with small lockers outside of them where you can change into one of the ever-lovely hospital gowns that are provided and then store your stuff. Then you sit in a small waiting area - 4 chairs, some magazines, a bulletin board for announcements, a jigsaw puzzle that people work on when waiting. It's fairly non-descript. And even though the waiting area is "private" in terms of being available only to those in treatment, it's still fairly "public" in that you're sitting there in a thin hospital gown with God-knows-who from the hospital traipsing by.

So I arrived one day this week and (luckily) to get to the changing rooms/lockers I have to walk past the radiation treatment room. Well, there must have been 15-20 people all crowded into the long hallway that enters into the room. What the heck??? Nevertheless, I proceeded to change into my gown, but then I hovered in the little alcove of one of the changing rooms until I knew the coast was clear. Who the heck were all these people, anyhow?

Eventually, one of the radiology techs walked by and noticed me lurking in the alcove so I asked her what was going on. In the treatment room hallway there is a mural on the wall, and that morning the Center had put on a breakfast for all of the various artists who had worked on it. Evidently, it was done in stages by many different people, and this was their chance to see the entire finished work of art and to be recognized for their contributions. All very nice, indeed. Unless YOU are the one sitting there dressed in next to nothing. I wasn't happy.

Now, the fact that all these people milling about was setting my treatment time behind didn't faze me in the least. I had plenty of time and was in no rush. But the thought of having even MORE strangers seeing me sitting around in that stupid hospital gown? You must be joking. It just so happens that the day this happened fell on a Wednesday, which is also the day when everyone sees the radiologist. They were kind enough to put me in an exam room so that I didn't have to hide in the alcove any longer and I explained to the nurse that it was demeaning enough to have to sit there in a thin robe with people gallivanting by, let alone with an additional non-hospital-related 15-20 people seeing me as well. Everyone was very sympathetic to my complaint and the doctor even apologized saying that, while she knew they were having the breakfast out in the public lobby, she had no idea they would all be milling about in the hallways of the treatment area.

I feel I need to clarify a ccouple of things here. First, when I change into the gown I'm only undressing from the waist up. Secondly, those of you who know me at ALL know that I am in no way a prude or even really very modest. My little one and I are two peas on a pod - we'd rather be "nekky" than have clothes on at all. Nevertheless, barely covered from the waste up is still barely covered, period, and getting "nekky" is done on OUR terms and in the privacy of our own home. Not sitting in a semi-private area of a very public hospital. Thanks, but no thanks.

No matter. Monday is my last day there and I couldn't be more thrilled about it. Woohoo!!!

One week to go!!!

Today is my last day of full-area treatments. Starting tomorrow I will have five "boost" treatments, as they call them, which will concentrate only on the specific area where the cancer was found. So my last treatment will officially be one week from today. Dale and I are going to celebrate by going to my last treatment, going out to breakfast, and then getting all our Christmas shopping done. Heh!

Overall the entire experience has been pretty OK. I am a bit relieved to be moving on to the boost treatments as the side effects from treating the entire breast are just now starting to kick in. I mean, I'm sure I could have sucked it up and handled another week, but I'm happy not to have to do that. After today the areas that are the most sensitive will be left alone and will start to heal. Hooray for that.

Not that the side effects have been all that bad. I definitely have not been tired (except for that first week or so of walking - now THAT kicked my ass!) The only real problems I've had have been similar to a sunburn - itching, soreness (but not the same kind of sore that you get with a sunburn - it's kind of difficult to describe), and peeling.

Lord, I am so glad that this is almost over. Can't wait to kick up my heels at Jessica's wedding on 12/27!

Half way!

I'm at the half way point of my radiation treatments as of today. Woohoo! Once we get back from the long Thanksgiving week-end, I'll have just a little over two weeks to go.

I'm starting to get a little sore, or at least I had been for the last couple of days. Things are MUCH better today, for some reason. I'm not sure if the soreness was from the radiation treatments or the nerve endings that had been disturbed during surgery being re-stimulated and now they're calming down again. Either way, it was only a slight annoyance and things feel much better tonight. I'm grateful for that. If I can hold out on any soreness or redness until the middle of next week then I'll get a four-day break over Thanksgiving, which will help.

Making progress!

The depths of my cold, black heart.

So I'm hanging out in the waiting area of the radiation center to get my treatment the other day (more on that later) and start reading this article hanging on the wall about this dude who had fought cancer for some 14 years or something, but who lived to tell the tale I'm happy to say. The article was written in this man's voice and he discussed how, while getting a treatment one day he saw a woman come in on her last day of treatment with a huge bouquet of flowers for the staff. He went on to say how wonderful all his care-givers were over the years and he just felt that, when his last day arrived, that he wanted to do something really special for them because they weren't just doing their jobs, they were like angels in his life. Flowers just didn't seem adequate and so he ended up making some great donation to the cancer center (though the article didn't really say what that was.)

So here is where I discovered the depths of my cold, black heart. Because the entire time I'm reading this story, beside thinking how happy I was for this man that he had survived, the only other thing I could think about was what MY last day would be like. And, frankly, all I've ever thought would happen would be that I would run in for my last treatment, meet with the doctor (I'm assuming, to get the 4-1-1 on follow-up steps) and then run out of there with a hearty "No offense, but I hope I never see you people again! See ya!"

Now, maybe if I had to struggle for my life for as many years as this guy did I might feel differently. But for now? My heart. It is cold and black.