Grateful Canuck

Today I am thankful for the Canadian health care system.

I know that it has its fair share of warts; we are all familiar with the dreaded long wait times in the Emergency Room. The time between family doctor check ups, and seeing a specialist is another period of waiting. And, as my surgeon said, waiting for test results is often the most difficult challenge we face.

Despite these problems, I can't help but be grateful for our medical system. Consider this: Between April 30 - June 3, 2015, I will have completed the following medical procedures:

Bone scan
Mammogram/Ultrasound
Blood work (2X)
MRI
Ultrasound (again!)
X-rays

Results for these tests will come dribbling in within a few days or a week afterward, often shared via telephone by my family doctor. In all, this testing period will have taken approximately 5 weeks. (The last test will be completed on June 3, 2015).

My perspective has been shaped by travel. If I were a Nicaraguan, I could go to the hospital and be diagnosed for free, but then have to pay for every bit of medicine and treatment for a cure. In Belize, treatment is covered by the government - but it is very basic, so complex health issues sometimes require travel to another country - likely Mexico. If I were Kenyan, I might live in an area without any infrastructure: no electricity, running water, or medical help. I would have to walk, and then travel by bus, to the nearest hospital. This journey could take days. Upon arrival, I would have to pay for my treatment, too.

But I am lucky enough to live in southern Ontario, and live within 15 - 20 minutes from doctors, hospitals and specialists.

And then I wonder: how much will these 5 weeks cost? I can't imagine having to pay out of pocket for these tests, or navigating the costs with an insurance company.

So while I wait, I am grateful that I have been able to walk into the various hospitals, clinics and labs to complete these procedures, all without spending a dime.

It's another blessing. I'll take it!

Benched

Harley and I have many things in common: We both have chronic injuries. He has hip dysplasia (probably the result of poor genes and starvation while he was still growing). I have chemotherapy induced peripheral neuropathy (CIPN). Neither of these conditions can be cured. Both problems can be managed through medication and carefully structured activities.

Sometimes Harley and I forget our limitations, and do too much. I work too much; he plays too much. He ends up lame, and cries when his hip joint bothers him too much. I end up dealing with breakthrough pain, and having my doctor put me off work for 4 months (!!) on medical leave.

Now we are both moping around at home, together. (Please excuse the next bit - I don't want to sound like I'm whining...)

This existence in the "after" apparently holds a few surprises.

I must admit I was shocked at the doctor telling me I had to stay home and rest for the remainder of the school year. I was expecting a week off, maybe two, tops. But like a lot of other things, I was wrong.

And here I am at home with my pack, trying to figure out how to beat this chronic pain and reclaim my career.

It is a relief to no longer face each day and struggle to drum up the energy to push through the pain, and deal with the constant crises at work. But I feel cut adrift.

Two things caught me by surprise - the intensity of breakthrough pain, and the power of this condition to simply stop my everyday life.


How I frame this development is important. While I feel stuck, I'm trying (struggling) to see it as an opportunity to figure out CIPN and how to better live with it. Clearly my prior strategy of just ignoring it during the day and medicating the crap out of it at night didn't

cut it. The pain isn't going to just go away. I need to learn how to live with it, manage it, and carry on.

In the meantime, if anyone has any ideas about how to get a very stubborn mastiff to take his doggy meds, I'm open to suggestions.

Reboot

I had a migraine two weeks ago that blew the doors off my recovery. I was off my feet for 2 full days, unable to keep the meds down, and so felt the full impact of the migraine plus unchecked nerve pain. Not fun. Took me 3 days to recover and get back to work.

And then the oncologist decided, given the severity of the event, a spate of tests needed to be completed to rule out relapse: Bones ache? Schedule a whole body bone scan. Migraine? Follow up with an MRI. And, just to be safe: an extra mammogram and ultrasound to rule out the chance of a local recurrence (another tumour in the breast).

Daily nausea? Increased nerve pain? Back to the family doctor to revisit the medication regime.

Part of the "after" of cancer is living under a microscope. It's a wonderful blessing and an unwelcome interruption. Part of me says, "Calm down, everyone - it was just a really bad headache!" The less reasonable part of my brain says "Please be thorough. Please check every nook and cranny so that I stop waking up in the middle of the night, wondering."

While I wait for the results to come in, I am rethinking the recovery plan. New tests, new meds, new schedule.

Once again, I am so very fortunate to be surrounded by support systems. My employer is sending me a consistent message from every level of the organization: Take the time you need to get healthy. Don't rush back because the job is always going to be there. My husband takes the measure of my energy levels and how big the circles are under my eyes each day, and then just pitches in at home. Friends and family offer love, prayer, and companionship. They understand when I am too tired out to visit; they cheer on my good days and love me through the bad.

And of course there is my pack. They get me out of bed each day, entertain me with their silliness and inspire me by their love of life. I watch them celebrate a beautiful day by rolling in the long meadow grass. Pink tongues loll as they romp through a nearby stream. Their happiness buoys my spirits.

Not everyone who lives with chronic pain and/or in the shadow of cancer has these advantages.

So while I wait for confirmation that everything is just fine, I choose to focus on the blessings and not on the worry.