About the Author
In October of 2011 I went to see a doctor because I was suffering from incredibly heavy bleeding. He took a biopsy and had his staff wheel me to the next door hospital immediately. I learned there that I had a red blood cell count of about one-third of what was required to live. I was admitted to the hospital from the emergency room. The very next day I learned that I had uterine cancer.
My doctor ordered a transfusion of eight packs of blood and scheduled me for surgery for that week. He asked the hospital’s well known gynecological surgeon/oncologist to perform the surgery.
I subsequently learned that my cancer had spread from its point of origin to one fallopian tube. There also was some “cervical involvement.”
I do not have health insurance. I ended up going to the county hospital for radiation and chemotherapy and ongoing treatment.
This is not simply a story about having cancer or not having health insurance.
I am an adjunct instructor teaching law classes at three different programs on four different campuses. The law school for which I work decided to remove me from the classroom when my supervisor heard I had cancer. She doesn’t think cancer patients can be counted upon to do their jobs. I objected to this treatment. I am back to teaching for that law school, but the relationship between us is not “back to normal.”
You might be wondering why a woman with three jobs cannot afford health insurance. Academia defines part time without regard to hours worked or responsibilities shouldered. It pays poorly. But I love teaching. I am now paying a heavy price for doing what I love.
The county is paying part of that price, too.
This is not a politically motivated blog. I wish things were different, but there is no particular plan on the books or the table that addresses my situation at the current time except for the county’s charitable care program. I do not know what I would do if that program did not exist.
If you have health insurance then you have nothing to worry about–unless or until you don’t.
My experiences with cancer, the cost of medical care, and employment discrimination would be sad except for the fact that my family, friends, and county have been there for me. I am cancer-free and fighting the good fight. I have not lost my sense of humor.
Not Down Or Out 
Thank you for “liking” one of my posts — I am so glad it brought me here. Ugh, I am so sorry for your experience… But I am looking forward to reading more…
Those who have been through cancer have a unique bond even though we have not met. I am so glad that something I posted was worth reading for you. Keep your chin up and enjoy every sunrise!
I am sad to read that even in a “civilised” country, people who are suffering have to endure lack of support and the stress of not knowing if they will be able to afford to pay for their care. This should be a civil right! Reading this, I suddenly feel extremely lucky that I live in a country where health insurance is a right and that I work for a company which has giving me their support right from the start… No one who has to deal with the pain, fear and stress of having cancer should have to worry about the bills… I am sorry you had to deal with that and I am glad to see that you have overcome it all and with grace as it appears…Here’s to you and to staying cancer (and hopefully pain) free for many years to come! Chymeera (http://chymeeradiaries.wordpress.com/)
Thank you for the kind encouragement!
I feel lucky. I know you read my post about the Arms Around Bainbridge organization that is helping me. Only 2 days ago I was …well. I’m okay now. Thanks to individuals I don’t even know who donate, volunteers, friends and family. Where would we be? My story sounds much like yours. Unfortunately, I was misdiagnosed, told I was menopausal and given birth control pills. You can imagine what that did. So it got away from me. For months and months, I believed that doctor.
Trying now as hard as I can. Thank you for sharing your story of survival. You must be so busy, to wedge this blog in is heroic. To me. I love heroes.
It’s terrible that you were misdiagnosed and given, of all things, hormones. I am so sad to hear of this. From what I have read on the subject, there are few things worse for you. Unfortunately, it appears that many women with uterine cancer have some difficulty getting doctors to take them seriously. And, when a woman finally succeeds, she gets a cancer diagnosis.
Each of us, in our own ways, learns how to deal with this terrible diagnosis. I found comfort reading others’ blogs and in writing my own. I learned more from others’ experiences than I did from reading medical sites. I learned how to live through the diagnosis and not merely how to treat cancer. I “saw” people working very hard to help others even as they struggled to help themselves through the difficult times and the grave fears. I have been inspired.
If I can help, let me know. I am only one survivor, but I read many blogs on the subject of cancer and may be able to recall someone’s discussion of a treatment or a way of coping with side effects. I’ll be reading your blog, too.
You are wonderful.
I decided early in my treatment to let my surgeon, oncologist, ob/gyn and the nurses to do my thinking. That sounds crazy given what happened. The dumb guy whom I allowed to convince me what was happening was ‘natural’. Sexist prick. Oops…little anger issues surface occasionally.
But I was terrified when I woke up on the floor. Well, not really. It felt good for a little while. Then it got cold and I was worried about my sister finding me. And the whole ambulance thing…and the diagnosis.
The look on the faces when I woke up. That was scary. I knew when a top surgeon has THAT look, it’s trouble. Must be hard to tell people. Especially when that person is high. Dude, yer crashing my buzz.
However, I will just say that for all this, I got very very lucky. Dr. Gray told me that I was in one of the best teaching hospitals in the world. University of Washington Medical School, the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance , Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research, they’re all here within 12 miles -over water, mind you- the ferry is a bitch sometimes…but they’re here. I’m getting some seriously cutting edge stuff.
So, I don’t want to know. Really. The statistics for what I have and where it is…no. I’ve heard enough to scare me shitless. I told my Mom and my sister not to tell me. To please not scare me. Stress me out. If it gets so bad I have to know, I’ll be told.
I’m trusting these women. And they are ALL women. I told them to do their best. I would do mine. Thinking positive, eating right, quitting sugar, dairy, gluten, corn, most meat, which was easy, cuz I was stone broke. Easy food is expensive. Mung beans are not. Exercise. For gods sake I may take up Yoga. Really. The only navel I ever gazed into was in an orange. But I’ll do my part.
Do you think it’s important to know exactly what’s going on? The only question I asked Dr. Gray was ” What did you take out?…oh…all that, eh? So what’s left in there, whats holding everything else up? Stuffing?”
I decided to believe in a miracle. Or two. I’m getting them, too. First of all I’m not living in a town of 900 people, in the middle of the Rocky Mountains, 250 miles from a so so hospital driving snowy mountain roads to get to treatment. 4 years ago I was.
Secondly, I have insurance from work and its good insurance, apparently. So far they’ve paid up. Well, 80%. Still leaving some pretty staggering debts ahead. And I have COBRA payments looming up in the near future. But you can’t get blood from a stone, as my hippy Dad always taught his children. A very wise man in his way.
Thirdly, Arms Around Bainbridge, co-workers, friends and family. Those are some seriously good miracles.
You spoke of the good things you’ve learned from fighting cancer. (Dr Thrall says never, ever own it…you don’t ‘have it’ and you don’t ‘get it’ you are FIGHTING it.)
I’ve learned some good things too. Mostly about people. Some about what kind of person I am. What courage is. Even if its the courage to say STOP. I don’t want to know yet. Give me these weeks of peace to build up my courage and find a place to make a stand.
If I have to. If I really have to, I will. Right now, it feels good writing to you. Listening to the cats sleep. Buying some nice clothes.
My way of facing this might sound odd. But then I’m sure that will change too. Change seems to be my new thing. Maybe I’ll turn into something fabulous like a NASCAR driver or a logging truck driver. Those guys are crazy and brave.
Maybe I’ll just change into me again. That would be most fabulous of all.
Boy this is a long reply. But thank you again. Thank you for telling me your story. Thank you for letting me talk to you. It feels good, doesn’t it? To tell someone who’s been there. I didn’t know. So thank you.
Love,
Laura
Hi, Laura. Yes, it feels good to talk about things with someone else who understands what it feels like to fight cancer. First off, everyone knows her own limits on information. If it helps you to not have all of the information, then that is the right choice. My doctor said that there were two types of patients. I am the type who wants to know everything. I read news stories and studies and did react to them. Some of the stuff I read did worry me. If you are one of the people who prefers not to do that, more power to you. It sounds like you have assembled a team of family members who can be your sounding board and also can get access to more information from your doctors if you need it. That’s good, too. I went to important appointments with my friend Barb. She asked great questions for me and relieved me of the need to try to remember everything. I was free to react, including by tuning out, if I needed that. Toward the end of treatment I met a lovely woman named Joyce at the county hospital where I go for treatment. She also chose not to ask for things like cancer stages and life expectancy percentages. She is a nurse. My feeling is that everyone knows her own limits. I’ll tell you one thing that I could not handle–the flood of medical bills. I did not open them. Barb did that for me. She opened them and prepared a spreadsheet. She did not give it to me to look at until I was ready. That was months after treatment. I did not want to make any decisions out of fear about how I would pay. I figured that, if the treatments worked, then I would have lots of time to work on paying off as many debts as I could and lots of gratefulness to make it palatable. Even now, I could not tell you how much it cost to get me to where I am. Two charities picked up most of my expenses. I did not have health insurance. I hate owing money, have no credit cards, and it would have been painful if I opened all of those bills and obsessed over the contents. There were medical creditors calling for awhile (calling day and night). They are just people doing a job. There are no debtors’ prisons in the U.S. You are right. If you have nothing, then there is nothing to be done except get well. I have one friend who really did not understand this about me. She said, very early on when the world was still spinning out of control for me, that I should ask my students to come over to my home and have a big yard sale of my stuff to pay my medical bills. I think the idea was that people liked me so they’d pay money to have something to remember me by. I think this was the toughest “love” lobbed at me by someone with whom I’m still speaking. Some people do not have the right bedside manner for what you’re going through. Spend more time with more positive people. The American Cancer Society has helped lots of people I have met at the county hospital. Its employees arrange rides to and from treatment. They provide gas cards to folks who drive themselves. They get wigs for people and have events to help with make-up. I did not need these services, but it felt good to know they were there. Lots of the women I met during treatment went for the fellowship. The American Cancer Society has helped some of them find charitable resources to help with medical bills, especially when the cancer was breast or gynecological. It sounds like your medical team is great and your community is supportive. That’s wonderful news. My surgeon may have been remote, but he was highly skilled. I really like my oncologist and her residents. My chemo nurses were wonderful. Most of the people I encountered were nice. When they weren’t, I tried to move on. Spoiler Alert: Some of the stuff posted on my blog between November 2011 and February 2012 is about the tough times. Don’t feel you need to read through it to get an answer to a question. Just email me at cheryl@notdownorout.com. I can answer questions without “TMI” for someone who doesn’t want to focus on anything but the good feelings you get when you know you are on your way to getting better. You mentioned not claiming cancer as “yours.” Joyce looks at it the same way. I teach legal writing but was incredibly insensitive to the semantics as I went through those first months after diagnosis. If I referred to it as “mine” I don’t think it made any difference to how I responded to it. Some people like the war terminology. I “fight” and “do battle.” Others hate that language, maybe because battles can turn into wars that turn into campaigns that turn into something that never seems to end. Some people are more sensitive to words than others. I started reading blogs on the hystersisters website for women who have had hysterectomies, but there were people there who were dealing with loss of the ability to conceive. That was not my issue, and I wanted to speak without worrying about the possibility of stepping on some emotional landmines that would wreck someone else’s day. That website also was very focused on tracking cancer staging and types. I do not describe myself as Cheryl with Stage 1 uterine cancer and several complicating factors that may make that staging unreliable–yikes! I am not my diagnosis or prognosis. Maybe each of us has to find her own voice on this and no one can/should tell you how to relate to cancer. It sounds like you are making decisions, not too numb to function. How can anything that you decide for yourself be the wrong approach? Keep on taking it one day at a time. I respond to positive affirmations. Post some Post-it notes around your house reminding you that you can kick butt. Because you can fight, babe. You mentioned clothes. That’s a sign to me that you might have exactly the right attitude for what’s happening. You are a woman handling a challenge. Be yourself. You have to get up in the morning and keep going. Lots of people do that best with their game face on. Wear what makes you feel good. Pamper yourself. Let people love you and take care of you. I am sure that you have done that sort of thing for others. I think you will find there are so many kind and caring people that it will help to let them help you. If you open yourself up to receive that support, then no one person has to do everything for you. Let me know if I can help. You are in my thoughts and prayers. Cheryl
Extremely compelling story. Shocking, really. I am sorry this happened to you. I was just diagnosed with uterine cancer in December, 2012. I will read more and keep in touch.
Thank you for stopping by my blog.
Thank you for “liking” one of my posts. Actually I still learning English, so I decided to try to write my posts in English. I hope that post useful for you. I think you are so strong to pass all those happened. I hope you are always fine and I can say you are the champion from that kind of fighting. 🙂
I think language seldom is what makes me like or not like a person’s story. What comes through in your writing is caring. It does not need translation.
I feel a bit guilty reading your story, since I do have medical insurance and a relatively mild type of cancer. I’m sorry we live in a country that doesn’t take care of ALL its citizens.
No call for anyone to feel guilty, especially when he is handling his own health challenges. I just hope insurance proves more “affordable” when the health insurance exchanges become available in October. Thanks for visiting my blog.
Thank you for liking my post even though it was just a small blurb about an article I found important to share. I think you’re an amazing woman. My best wishes for a complete recovery from the disease, and a happy and fulfilling life in the future.
Mahalo / Thank You so very much for sharing your story and the numerous posts.. you’ve given me encouragement as I begin my own journey through similar hurdles.. as well as reinforced my belief maintaining humor a key..
Thanks for visiting my blog, and thanks for sharing your own story.
Hi! Keep fighting and keep smiling ! 🙂 LOVE your attitude. I can relate to your story. I lost my ex, yes ex, in 2006. He was stage four when we found out, and it was only that he was deemed terminal that he got his meds taken care of and a small disability check. He was sick long before that . He was living with my new husband and I until he was finally accepted in to actual hospice house 10 days before he died. I had him for a year and a half. He was my BEST friend!
As an Australian who has just been diagnosed with breast cancer and started chemo last week, all for FREE, I am shattered that women such as yourself live in the supposedly most powerful modern, westernised country in the world and it does not have a national health service. I know that there are many cancer treatments in our country that can cost a fortune, however the richest and the poorest in our country are entitled to basic and life saving health care. Thank the Goddesses I live in ‘The Lucky Country’ and don’t have to worry about paying for my chemo and radiotherapy. Thank the Goddesses also that I have a large supportive family and husband whose employer has made allowances for my/our illness and he can drop everything to drive me the 650 km round trip to the Cancer Centre.
Hear, hear!! That’s wonderful to hear even if it is not the same here.
Hi Cheryl, I’ve nominated you for the Liebster Award – you can see my post about it here http://ozhiggins.wordpress.com/2013/04/30/liebster-award-thank-you/. Thank you for sharing your journey with us and I wish you good luck and good health. Lisa
Lisa, I am going next to your site to read more about this, but I am very grateful for your support of my writing. When I started posting it was selfish. I had need for a place to make a record and a way to get word out to friends. I ended up becoming a voracious reader of others’ blogs. I hope I have given back a little in exchange for the immense gifts others have given me. Thank you for the nomination. It has made my day! Cheryl