I wish I could be one of those people who gives everything a positive spin. Maybe in my next life. In this one, I am stuck being realistic--to a fault, some would say, like my husband. Contrary to what he believes, I don't see the glass as half-empty--I simply see it as bigger than necessary. For example, yesterday I went to the dermatologist. For over a week now I have worried about the scheduled procedure to excise my recently diagnosed skin cancer: The pain during, the pain after, the yukky wound, the growing scab, the resulting scar--it all sounded bad. But at the end of all that, I would be cancer-free!
My dear friend Jackie drove me to the dreaded appointment, since who knew what shape I would be in afterwards--when it comes to medical stuff, you never know. And this particular doctor graduated from The New Jersey School of Medicine and Dentistry, which I did not find all that comforting. (I grew up in New York--sue me.) As it turned out, the doctor explained that my particular cancer was shallow and could be treated with a topical chemotherapy drug in cream form, applied daily for six weeks. He advised that course of action because of the unattractive scar that would result from other procedures such as excision, curettage or freezing, and insisted it would do the trick with little fuss. A "glass is half-full" person would have been thrilled.
Instead, I left there feeling just as worried as before--maybe more. Cancer cream? Who ever heard of curing cancer with a cream? What am I, an idiot? This is not poison ivy, after all. And what if it doesn't work? The doctor himself said it doesn't work on everyone. What if I don't apply enough of the cream and some cancer cells remain? At least if they cut it out it would be gone. And suddenly I'm my own doctor? He probably just wasn't in the mood to do that whole gross procedure, after all it was already 3:30 in the afternoon and he had been working since 8 am, and I already told him I was big baby. Anyway, I went to the pharmacy to get the cream and they said it had to be approved by my health insurance first because it's so expensive, so now I am waiting. Today I still have skin cancer--and that's a fact.
My dear friend Jackie drove me to the dreaded appointment, since who knew what shape I would be in afterwards--when it comes to medical stuff, you never know. And this particular doctor graduated from The New Jersey School of Medicine and Dentistry, which I did not find all that comforting. (I grew up in New York--sue me.) As it turned out, the doctor explained that my particular cancer was shallow and could be treated with a topical chemotherapy drug in cream form, applied daily for six weeks. He advised that course of action because of the unattractive scar that would result from other procedures such as excision, curettage or freezing, and insisted it would do the trick with little fuss. A "glass is half-full" person would have been thrilled.Instead, I left there feeling just as worried as before--maybe more. Cancer cream? Who ever heard of curing cancer with a cream? What am I, an idiot? This is not poison ivy, after all. And what if it doesn't work? The doctor himself said it doesn't work on everyone. What if I don't apply enough of the cream and some cancer cells remain? At least if they cut it out it would be gone. And suddenly I'm my own doctor? He probably just wasn't in the mood to do that whole gross procedure, after all it was already 3:30 in the afternoon and he had been working since 8 am, and I already told him I was big baby. Anyway, I went to the pharmacy to get the cream and they said it had to be approved by my health insurance first because it's so expensive, so now I am waiting. Today I still have skin cancer--and that's a fact.
I know people who have had good outcomes from the chemo cream.
ReplyDeleteLiz, that's good to hear...thanks for letting me know. I am eager to get started with it so I feel like I am doing something about the problem!
Deletegod damn insurance companies. don't you find that almost as annoying (or more so) than cancer?
ReplyDeleteI would have to say that cancer is #1 on my list of Most Annoying, whereas insurance companies are at about #22.
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