This is part two. For part one, please read "When I Was 30."
By the time I was finally diagnosed with Hodgkin's, I had turned 31 and was on the outside edge of the typical age of folks with the disease. Hodgkin's generally strikes young people - Wikipedia says between 15 and 35, but I thought I recalled my oncologist saying it was more like 13-30. It spikes again in the 55+ crowd.
I had no risk factors for it other than age - it's more common in those who have a history of it in their family (although the risk between siblings is higher than parents), I'd never had mono or Epstein-Barr virus, my immune system is ridiculously vigorous and I've never used human growth hormones. In fact, we couldn't find a history of cancer in anyone in either side of the family.
I mean, I like being different and all, but this was perhaps taking it a wee bit too far, you know?
When I got home from the hospital, I called my mom to let her know - and promptly had my ass handed to me for waiting so long to tell her. Okay, look, all you parents out there - I'm a ridiculously practical person. So, one, I didn't want to call before having a diagnosis as my relatives are 1000 miles away and none of us are independently wealthy to go jetting around the country for something that might be nothing. Two, it was the freaking day before Thanksgiving! I'm not going to ruin a holiday for everyone with zero information! I mean, good grief. That was my present, here, have a relaxed holiday - you can't do anything about my news right now anyway except worry yourselves sick and I'm already sick enough. Three, and this is the dumb reason, but I'll be honest and put it out there anyway - I didn't want to get charged for a long distance call from the hospital. The hospital bill was going to be ridiculous enough as it was.
At any rate, I'd had not only umpteen units of blood in the hospital, but also my first chemo treatment. Thing seemed fine. The first morning at home after the hospital I drank some limeade (wait, this is an important fact). It tasted so good after that bland crap at the hospital that I drank oh, about 4 glasses of limeade in quick succession. On an empty stomach. So yeah, I hurled.
That was the only time during the entire six months of chemo that I was nauseous. I'm not even sure chemo had anything to do with that.
I scheduled my chemo appointments for days when I didn't teach, brought papers to grade with me as the treatment lasted about two hours or so. I was there over lunch hour just once ... and I didn't ever do that again.
Cuz well, I eat lunch at lunchtime. And umm, I was really hungry during one of the first sessions (I'd probably forgotten to eat breakfast) and my partner said she'd go get me whatever I wanted. So I ate Popeye's spicy fried chicken in the chemo room during my treatment that day.
I had managed to forget that other people did not have my cast-iron stomach ....
It's not like the whole room got up and was sick or anything ... but there was a definite greenish cast to many folks. So I didn't go back during lunchtime after that. No sense in stressing people's stomachs!
I was 31. No health insurance. No savings. Barely scraping by. Loads of school debt.
I finally went to look into getting foodstamps and maybe Medicaid.
I was told there was no way I would qualify.
I was told to quit my job and then I would qualify for all kinds of aid. Even special programs for cancer patients.
Wait. I'm a functioning member of society. I'm paying my bills except for the medical bills I'm racking up anyway. I'm working. I can work, unlike many who are incapacitated by the cancer or the treatment or both.
And I should just give up teaching so I can utilize the system?
WTF is wrong with this? Look, I just want some help paying the medical bills, that's all. Or some food stamps so that my budget for food can be spent making a dent in my medical bills.
Nope, we can't help you.
Unmarried, 31, no savings, no health insurance, school debt and a job that paid just under $20,000 a year.
Cancer.
This, folks, is the stuff of nightmares. If the cancer didn't give you nightsweats already, that set of facts alone would.
(to be continued)
Posted by Red Monkey at September 4, 2009 5:03 AM | | 
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This is very scary, because it happens more than most people think.
September 4, 2009 2:43 PM
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Tara R. said: