A few months ago we went to a Bris. No, it wasn't a Bris but they delayed the party so this was just the party...
Shut me up. Anyway, I see this couple I know who have two grown sons. So I ask how his sons are doing. Both are doctors. One, he said was an oncologist so he "doesn't like to recommend him to his friends." We both had a little chuckle over his joke and I moved on...
Well, guess what?? He said his son was an oncologist but he's really a radio-oncologist at Sainte Anne, married to my surgeon's daughter... I was joking with his dad only a few months ago about not wanting people he knew to go to him, and now I'm going to him...
I'm soooo not up on the Jewish community gossip. I just saw the grandson of both men at the Hannukah party. Sigh.
On a technicality, he won't be there. I met him when he was still a student ages ago (scary!) but I'm going to his collegue.
I woke up in pain so I saw BOTH the GP and my gynecologist today. I've done something to my hip and leg. It hurts to drive. I'm afraid of the arthritis, which apparently will get worse on the Tamoxifen, which I'm dreading taking.
She's sending me to get an X-ray. Great! All I need! More radiation... Poor Dr. N. will think I'm stalking him. Help! I have to go in and see them again because I can't read her handwriting and with my accent, they can't figure out what they have to do. Help! So dreading this...
Can't we just go straight to PT? I'm already doing it. The PT says we can just add it in.
No, we have to know what's going on first. Where have I heard that before? Oh yeah, the MRI! Just couldn't figure out why they insisted on that one...
Basically, I told her, when I sleep on the left, my sutures hurt. When I sleep on my right, my hip hurts. I'm kind of not winning the sleep battle.
My gynecologist thinks it's a good idea to slog out to Sainte Anne and do it there. Paul Strauss is closing eventually and there will be a big cancer center at Hautepierre, the major teaching hospital-right around the corner from us. In theory I could do it there too but who knows. She says since I haven't done the mold or the tattooing, I should be fine to change. I asked about my records.
"Why did you give them to them?"
"Because they asked." Ah, good reason. The ONE time I play the compliant Good French Patient!
As convoluted as it sounds, she wants me to call Sainte Anne and ask for them to be sent and not call them directly. She says they'll panic that I'm stopping treatment or some other palavah so if another institution calls, they know for a fact that I'm getting radiation somewhere.
She suggested I return to the pool and use a board. After my laughing at the ladies with their boards, just watch. I'll be one of them! She goes. She's going tomorrow at 7am (yikes!) She's like that. Skinny, disciplined... I can almost reach up straight above my head, which is my criteria.
She was very happy with the results. I've lost a little on the side but no big deal. The scar is healing nicely. Don't be in such a hurry to start radiation, she says. I could have gone to the U.S. if I wanted. Great, now you tell me. I reminded her that I couldn't have bought the tickets in time before knowing about chemo, which would already have been started if it had been a go.
She tried speaking English to me all of a sudden. Usually, that's annoying but she does speak it pretty well. I forgot the word for pituitary gland. I really, just forgot, my English! But we were talking about my stupid thyroid test. She thinks I can still participate but wants me to show the results to them at Sainte Anne. I'll probably need to see an endocrinologist for it.
She also ranted on about why Americans are so keen to do the double mastectomies. I read on the internet very light BC cases and they're chopping it all off. She explained, different culture and different medical system. French women want to keep their boobs. Fine. Get that. American women need the peace of mind of not being checked and having the all-clear that a DBX (as it's called on the net) can give them. Also, cancer treatment costs more than the surgery. I truly doubt that this plays a role but it's true that an American woman might be thinking "If my cancer comes back and I don't have insurance then..." a fear, the French woman doesn't have.
The American Cancer and Susan Komen sites had articles on just how effective BMX's are, or rather, aren't. They lower the risk of reoccurrence, but that is already very low. What they don't do, which Dr. G. told me, they don't improve survivability overall. I think women panic and just "want them off". I hate to judge but I'm kind of gearing myself up to defend my position on having the lumpectomy. It makes me sound shallow to say that I didn't want to have my boob taken off but honestly, I just didn't see any reason to do that. I've been checked for all these years. I'm really not afraid of it. Radiation? Heck, I'm from California. Walking across a parking lot is supposed to be the same amount as a chest X-ray. Okay, I don't really know. But I have time to look into it.
Getting either a single or double mastectomy is never really off the table. If I'm BRCA positive or if a more aggressive cancer comes back, we can talk. But I can't decide on "what-if's" and fear. As Dr. G. says, they don't grow back.
I am living my life in between medical appointments. I took Ronnie to visit a school he's applying to on Saturday morning. He was impressed. Let's see if he gets in! Also, Talia had a gymnastics competition in Reims on Sunday. We had a birthday dinner at a Chinese restaurant the evening before. She didn't do well and is not going to the French Championships. She will, but just to cheer on her friend who did get in.
Shut me up. Anyway, I see this couple I know who have two grown sons. So I ask how his sons are doing. Both are doctors. One, he said was an oncologist so he "doesn't like to recommend him to his friends." We both had a little chuckle over his joke and I moved on...
Well, guess what?? He said his son was an oncologist but he's really a radio-oncologist at Sainte Anne, married to my surgeon's daughter... I was joking with his dad only a few months ago about not wanting people he knew to go to him, and now I'm going to him...
I'm soooo not up on the Jewish community gossip. I just saw the grandson of both men at the Hannukah party. Sigh.
On a technicality, he won't be there. I met him when he was still a student ages ago (scary!) but I'm going to his collegue.
I woke up in pain so I saw BOTH the GP and my gynecologist today. I've done something to my hip and leg. It hurts to drive. I'm afraid of the arthritis, which apparently will get worse on the Tamoxifen, which I'm dreading taking.
She's sending me to get an X-ray. Great! All I need! More radiation... Poor Dr. N. will think I'm stalking him. Help! I have to go in and see them again because I can't read her handwriting and with my accent, they can't figure out what they have to do. Help! So dreading this...
Can't we just go straight to PT? I'm already doing it. The PT says we can just add it in.
No, we have to know what's going on first. Where have I heard that before? Oh yeah, the MRI! Just couldn't figure out why they insisted on that one...
Basically, I told her, when I sleep on the left, my sutures hurt. When I sleep on my right, my hip hurts. I'm kind of not winning the sleep battle.
My gynecologist thinks it's a good idea to slog out to Sainte Anne and do it there. Paul Strauss is closing eventually and there will be a big cancer center at Hautepierre, the major teaching hospital-right around the corner from us. In theory I could do it there too but who knows. She says since I haven't done the mold or the tattooing, I should be fine to change. I asked about my records.
"Why did you give them to them?"
"Because they asked." Ah, good reason. The ONE time I play the compliant Good French Patient!
As convoluted as it sounds, she wants me to call Sainte Anne and ask for them to be sent and not call them directly. She says they'll panic that I'm stopping treatment or some other palavah so if another institution calls, they know for a fact that I'm getting radiation somewhere.
She suggested I return to the pool and use a board. After my laughing at the ladies with their boards, just watch. I'll be one of them! She goes. She's going tomorrow at 7am (yikes!) She's like that. Skinny, disciplined... I can almost reach up straight above my head, which is my criteria.
She was very happy with the results. I've lost a little on the side but no big deal. The scar is healing nicely. Don't be in such a hurry to start radiation, she says. I could have gone to the U.S. if I wanted. Great, now you tell me. I reminded her that I couldn't have bought the tickets in time before knowing about chemo, which would already have been started if it had been a go.
She tried speaking English to me all of a sudden. Usually, that's annoying but she does speak it pretty well. I forgot the word for pituitary gland. I really, just forgot, my English! But we were talking about my stupid thyroid test. She thinks I can still participate but wants me to show the results to them at Sainte Anne. I'll probably need to see an endocrinologist for it.
She also ranted on about why Americans are so keen to do the double mastectomies. I read on the internet very light BC cases and they're chopping it all off. She explained, different culture and different medical system. French women want to keep their boobs. Fine. Get that. American women need the peace of mind of not being checked and having the all-clear that a DBX (as it's called on the net) can give them. Also, cancer treatment costs more than the surgery. I truly doubt that this plays a role but it's true that an American woman might be thinking "If my cancer comes back and I don't have insurance then..." a fear, the French woman doesn't have.
The American Cancer and Susan Komen sites had articles on just how effective BMX's are, or rather, aren't. They lower the risk of reoccurrence, but that is already very low. What they don't do, which Dr. G. told me, they don't improve survivability overall. I think women panic and just "want them off". I hate to judge but I'm kind of gearing myself up to defend my position on having the lumpectomy. It makes me sound shallow to say that I didn't want to have my boob taken off but honestly, I just didn't see any reason to do that. I've been checked for all these years. I'm really not afraid of it. Radiation? Heck, I'm from California. Walking across a parking lot is supposed to be the same amount as a chest X-ray. Okay, I don't really know. But I have time to look into it.
Getting either a single or double mastectomy is never really off the table. If I'm BRCA positive or if a more aggressive cancer comes back, we can talk. But I can't decide on "what-if's" and fear. As Dr. G. says, they don't grow back.
I am living my life in between medical appointments. I took Ronnie to visit a school he's applying to on Saturday morning. He was impressed. Let's see if he gets in! Also, Talia had a gymnastics competition in Reims on Sunday. We had a birthday dinner at a Chinese restaurant the evening before. She didn't do well and is not going to the French Championships. She will, but just to cheer on her friend who did get in.
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