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July 20, 2011

Awe yes, a bit of levity in the face of cancer~

As predicted yesterday, an irreverent accounting of today’s glorious events is about to unfold!  Not to worry, I did manage to represent, loud and proud, my new-found status as a crying person.  Oddly, it suites me.  Memorial Herman Hospital hosted my bilateral breast MRI today; it was extraordinarily special and surprises were plentiful.  While finalizing paperwork and checking in, SURPRISE, we shall inject your veins with a special dye that will aluminate during imaging.  Okay?!?  While changing into the gown/robe/pant apparatus I paused and said out loud “not sure how this is supposed to work!”  Holding my pants up, trying to keep body parts from flying out, I made my way to the imaging room.  Two steps into the room I stopped, looked at the imaging machine, looked at the nurse, looked back at the imaging machine set-up, and back at the nurse.  Alrighty then, atop the table sat, what is best described as, this miniature podium with two holes cut in the top.  Nah, it could not be that I must drop my breasts into the two holes, SURPRISE, you shall!  Beautiful?!?  Although I wore earplugs and sound blocking headphones, the machine radiated shockingly loud clunking noises that at one point, sounded like chaotic boisterous chanting.  Nearing completion of the 60 minute MRI, I became a crying person; the reality and seriousness of my cancer overwhelmed me.  The nurses pulled me out of the machine and I attempted to concurrently sit-up while holding the blanket by my face; I was a hot mess.  Note to self, next time you need to break down, consider that you are lying face down on the table and cannot move. 

On a more serious note, the oncologist that my surgeon referred me to is out-of-network and the insurance company denied the surgeon and primary physician’s requests for her to treat me post-surgery.  Curtis made a valiant and persuasive effort with his employer to allow a change to the insurance policy; the insurance company would remain the same it would be a small policy shift.  Despite his efforts, the employer would not budge.  On to plan B.  My primary care physician made a referral to an oncologist and the appointment is at 10:00 tomorrow morning (7/21/2011).  Tomorrow is the first big decision day; treatment decisions will be made based on the test results that are currently available. 

Confession time:  I secretly am hoping that the radiologist is reading my MRI film, befuddled beyond words, and declares, “She does not have cancer!”   

**I added a couple tabs at the top of the Home page where additional information is available and will be updated regularly.  Today was a good day, I am hopeful.