It's My Cancerversary

A year ago today at this time I was lying in my new hospital bed, listening to my neighbor moan in pain, contemplating the surreal day I'd just had at the urgent care clinic, and wondering when the hospitalist would get to my case and write the orders that would allow me to take my insulin and get me started on the colonoscopy prep.

One year post diagnosis. Woohoo! I'm moving toward the center of the survival curve. No left hand tail for me. 

And all things considered, the year went by pretty fast -- though I'd be the first to admit that some weeks didn't go by nearly fast enough. 

I was trying to think of the best way to commemorate this milestone, and didn't come up with much. So, for lack of anything better, I thought I'd make some awards based on my first year as a cancer patient...

The Best Thing About Cancer, Year 1

Cancer gives all the people around you the opportunity to display their best selves, and, by and large, most quickly step up to the challenge. Whether it's making meals, providing transportation, being company during chemotherapy, or a million other things, people can be pretty great and cancer gives them the chance to prove it.

The Worst Thing About Cancer, Year 1

The side effects of treatment, hands down. Cancer treatment is a misery. 

The Most Surprising Thing About Cancer, Year 1

Realizing that the doctors know a lot less than you think (hope?) they do. There are just too many stories of this cancer patient who was told they had three months to live and, fifteen years later is still going strong, or that patient who was told they had nothing to be concerned about and three months later was dead to believe that oncology is much more than guess work. Informed, scientific guess work, but still guess work. Or maybe gambling is a better term. Few people would bet serious money on a coin toss, but it seems like a lot of cancer patients are betting their lives on outcomes that have odds that are little better than a coin toss. And too many conversations with an oncologist boil down to the articulation of an outcomes curve and a general shrugging of the shoulders over where on that curve you're likely to fall.

And I thought "it depends" was the go to answer in my field...

The Most Frustrating Thing About Cancer, Year 1

Health insurance. Glad I have it, but dealing with it is enough to make me want to jump off a building.

My Best Provider, Year 1

I've interacted with a lot of good doctors, physician's assistants, nurses, phlebotomists and other health care providers this past year, but the best by far was Dr. Amy Harper, the surgeon at Group Health who did my hemicolectomy. As far as I'm concerned, Dr. Harper is the Platonic ideal of a doctor. 

My Worst Provider, Year 1

I don't want to name names, but the oncologist who provided me with a third opinion couldn't have been further from what I was looking for if they'd been a veterinarian. My needs and their intentions just did not mesh at all. But that just goes to show that  it takes all kinds as lots (and lots and lots) of patients describe this doctor as one of the very best. 

The Easiest Part of Treatment, Year 1

The hemicolectomy. Acute pain I can do, and in retrospect getting over the surgery wasn't bad at all. Up and walking the same day, and out of the hospital three days later. If it was an option, I'd take another surgery over most of the other options any day of the week...

The Caveat to the Easiest Part of Treatment, Year 1

...provided that the surgery didn't involve a catheter. The catheter sucked. 

The Worst Part of Treatment, Year 1

The home infusion pump. I truly despise having things attached to me, so dragging that pump around for two days every three weeks pushed me to the brink. Hated, hated, hated the home infusion pump. 

The Best Part of the Treatment, Year 1

The breaks. Not getting treatment is the best part of the treatment. 

The Overall Best Part of Year 1

It's a tie between a) driving the Roadster, and b) the fact that I get a Year 2.