There was a very good article in our local paper today about the cost of cancer. Usually cost is used metaphorically- as in cancer costs your hair, your health, your hope, your life. This article was about the true cost of cancer- dollar signs. Often many people think, as I did, that if you have insurance cancer has a low price tag. We are very blessed to have excellent insurance. I am thankful for that every single day. But, as this article pointed out, deductibles, copays, and drug costs are soaring. As we get better at treating cancer the treatments get more and more expensive. I'm not the least bit interested in the political debate or the discussion about insurance companies and drug companies right now in the midst of it all. I'm more interested in people- the human faces we encounter with every visit to the Cancer Center. We recently met with the business manager to discuss payments and cost. She informed us that there are programs to help families and that the new guidelines for these programs are set at a poverty level of $93,000/year for a family of three. Maybe my age is showing but that number shocked me. And, the people coming in and out of the Cancer Center often show the stress on their faces. It's not fair that in the midst of fighting for your very life you also may have to worry about losing your home or draining your savings. I have always found it ironic that we are going to pay someone to make Brett very sick. I know rationally they are making him well in the process but it is still ironic. I'd much rather take the trip to Tahiti that I have already paid for this year. I also think it is disturbing that we aren't allowed to talk about the financial toll. It is never an open conversation. Oh, we'll talk in small talk with friends at the store, family members, or with fellow patients in the chemo room about losing hair, feeling nauseated, the metaphorical costs, but we stop short of talking literally about the financial toll. It's definitely a touchy subject with many sides of an ongoing political debate. I have no answers. No matter what your situation, cancer is expensive- end of story. I'm just glad that someone in the media took interest outside of the political debate and looked at real people and tackled the issue- literally, not metaphorically.
We begin chemo treatments this week. There is definitely a thick fog of dread hanging over me. I feel like a two year old ready to throw a tantrum. I don't want to do this, don't make me do this. And, all I'm doing is watching and worrying. I don't even have the hard part. I think it's worse the second time around, knowing what to expect, knowing this round is longer and stronger. Oh we're still laughing and we really are looking at this through a positive lens. I guess in the metaphor of fog our hope is a strong light slicing through. But, I cannot ignore the fog and the mileage we have in front of us before reaching the destination. This is when I have no choice but to cling to my faith and cling I will. I have written about fear. I have written about anger. This is pure and simple dread. It's simply not fun watching someone you love feel sick. It's not fun watching a man who never takes so much as a Tylenol build up a pharmacy on the kitchen counter top. There's a pill for everything and we have a prescription for one of each. Anti-nausea, antibiotic, antihistamine, anti- everything that chemo could possibly do to you. It's all in my kitchen. I'm glad they are there- glad we've made incredible advances at any cost- glad that my husband's very life will be saved by all of this. But it is overwhelming all the same.
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