Knock, Knock. Who's there? Cancer.

UPDATE: The tumor is out and the lymph nodes are clear. Second surgery is Tuesday.

There's an old saw that Ziggy used to count as one of his favorites:

The flood waters are rising and Sam, standing on the front porch of his house, sees a man on a raft floating toward him. “Sam!” calls the man, “get on the raft and I’ll get you out of here!”

“Not to worry,” Sam replies, “G-d will take care of me.”

The flood waters continue to rise, and Sam is standing at the window on the third floor. He sees a man in a large motor boat coming toward him. “Sam, jump in! I’ll get you out of here!

“Not to worry,” Sam replies, “G-d will take care of me.”

A day later, the waters are still rising and Sam is standing on the roof of his house. He sees a helicopter coming toward him. It hovers over his house. “Sam,” calls the man on bullhorn, “I’ll lower a rope, lift you up, and get you out of here!"

“Not to worry,” Sam replies, “G-d will take care of me.”

The next day, the waters cover the roof and Sam drowns.

Before he knew it, Sam was standing before the Throne of G-d. “I was a good guy! I was a faithful husband and good father. I gave to charity willingly and anonymously, “cried Sam. “I observed mitzvoth and went to shul. What were you thinking?"

 G-d shook Her head sadly. “Sam, I sent you a raft. I sent you a motor boat. I even sent you a helicopter…….”

There is a raft waiting for me, and I am hopping on. I am not waiting to see what happens. Nope. Not me.

At my annual mammogram on August 11th, the radiology tech spotted a spot. It was teeny-tiny. It wasn’t the first time this has happened; I was not surprised when I got called back for an ultrasound. At the ultrasound, the radiologist looked at the spot and said, “I’m not so sure this one's a cyst.... Your biopsy is at 1:00 this afternoon.”

Within 24 hours, I knew it was an invasive ductal carcinoma. Breast cancer. 

Now, before anyone freaks and tries to sign me up for the Kult of Komen, take a breath. It’s tiny; less than a centimeter. My estrogen and progesterone staining factors are 95% and 85% respectively. My HER-2 is 1….and there appears to be nothing in the lymph nodes based on that very pushy ultrasound. The oncologist surgeon and the radiology oncologist have both classified the IDC as Stage 1A with a grade 1 tumor….with the understanding that it won’t be confirmed until they biopsy the sentinel lymph node. Either way, the prognosis is excellent...and probably won't involve chemo. 

Being an Ashkenazi woman…as in Jewish from Eastern Europe…this diagnosis is not exactly a surprise. Our risk is very high. Too many of my friends have been down this road. Before you ask, I already have my BRCA-2 kit and will have blood drawn today. Here’s something I didn’t know. If I am BRCA-2 positive, I can pass it to the boys, and their risk for a variety of cancers increase, plus, it can then be passed to their children. 

So, here's the plan. The lumpectomy is on Wednesday. There will be some "adjusting" to the size of the shelf, set for the following Tuesday, and that is the really exciting part of this whole process. Both are out-patient. Six weeks after that will be a course of radiation. The radiology oncologist promised I would not glow in the dark when it's over. He said that so seriously. He's a really nice man, but has no sense of humor whatsoever. My next goal is to make him laugh. 

My job has pretty good insurance. I have access to Virginia Piper Institute at Abbot Northwestern Hospital and their Breast Care center. I have a job that allowed me to bank all those sick days I never used, and they will cover my leave-of-absence and then some. I will have a job to go back to when the surgical part is through, and then they will work with me during the weeks I have radiation. In other words, I am fairly well protected. My out of pocket may be about $6K after all the deductibles. Compared to what it's going to be billed (which is no reflection whatsoever of what the procedures actually cost,) $6K is chump change. Good thing I have it. 

But never mind the out-of-pocket stuff. Being considered high risk, I am well versed in the importance of regular mammograms. If I didn't have insurance, I would go to Planned Parenthood...assuming there is Planned Parenthood to go to. If there wasn't one available, I might not have been able to go. And not going would definitely be a death sentence....just like it is for other women without access to health care for women. 

I'm already pretty radicalized about affordable health care, but the ease with which my diagnosis has been processed, together with the seamless transition into an excellent facility make me realize how damn lucky I am. 

Lucky? That is fundamentally wrong. No one should have to be lucky to get health care. Everyone should have access the same way I do. Period. End of argument. 

For the record, I really do think Susan G. Komen is a cult and want no part of that juggernaut. There are plenty of other organizations that need your support to do good work for women's health. Like Planned Parenthood. 

Rest assured this blog is not going to become a cancer journal. The usual outrage for all things politically and socially absurd will continue unabated. This includes but is not limited to Trump-l'œil and the GOP Clown Cavalcade.

Meanwhile, Spartacus is learning to ask for help. Not an easy thing. 

With Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, just around the corner, I can think of no better time to renew a beginning. 

The WP's tip o'the Week

Widowhood taught me to set aside money for a rainy day. 

Sam would have to agree - this is a rainy day.