Homeopathy-Keeping an Open Mind!

Finally got to see the homeopathic doctor that Celine, my cancer nurse, recommended. First, it was a nurse who sent me. Second, this is a Real French Doctor, not some guy with dodgy creds with an office. I wanted to keep an open mind about this...

I'm such a ditz, wandering around Place Kleber when I got the bright idea to look him up. Ugh! Not far but this is the second time I've "decided" where the doctor is and went to the wrong place. I needed the walk anyway, since I couldn't go swimming this morning.

He came in, introduced himself and a verrrrrry young intern who took me to examine me. He went through my whole history but wasn't interested in my now-infamous big bag of X-rays and records. I went through drug history; morphine, codeine, antihistamines, bad reactions to them all. Can't take anything from those categories...  He then did an exam. My tension is good (of course I forgot it) and I weigh more than I thought I did. Odd, because my clothes are a little loose. Swimming? I didn't mention it.

He also had to examine my breasts, which was a bit silly as I just had a mammo and ultrasound four days ago. I said something but he didn't react and I thought, what the heck... Half of Strasbourg has seen my breasts by now anyway.

I noticed that he also does acupuncture. I mentioned it and he confirmed that the doctor does do that too. Oh no! needles!! Then I thought to myself... I've had surgery involving scooping two tumors out of my left boob and earlier, had three babies come out of my neither regions and I'm scared of acupuncture needles?!? Get real and see what he says...

I put my bra on and he came in. He had some intriguing questions. No hot flashes. Maybe I have had them but I couldn't really tell if they were from that or too much clothing, bedding, etc. "But do you feel more hot in general?" I thought about it. We had a mild winter and I was treated during the colder months... I wasn't really as cold as I've been previously...

In fact, I was sitting there in just my bra, with two men in front of me. Remember, this is the Land of No Hospital Gowns. Maybe no one would mind if I put my top on again? I reached over and gingerly lifted it from the other chair.

I explained that the symptoms weren't bad enough to justify taking an antidepressant... Then he stops me. "Never take an anti-depressant with Tamoxifen! It interferes with the..." and then he got a little too technical for me. "But back in the U.S., they give this Effexor stuff..." and he continues that ALL antidepressants interfere and reduce the effectiveness of Tamoxifen.

"Do you have any depression?" he asked, kind of expecting the answer. "Well no, which is one of the reasons I don't want to take an antidepressant anyway. Plus, I keep reading how it helps hot flashes and that's not my problem at all!" I also made it clear to him that I am not suffering from any personality changes (although my husband would disagree). I explained that it's like an instrument that the strings are pulled too tightly. I talked about the fact I can't sit still. No, that's getting better...

I also told him about my gynecologist asking to give it three months. "I'm glad she said that because I noticed a lot of the symptoms have lessened..." Yes, we're coming up on the 3 month mark. Yes, that's why I'm here...

I forgot to mention the funky periods. It started again a few days ago and I am curious how long it'll last this time but I'm supposed to go in to see Dr. G. anyway. I'm not sure if I want my periods messed with using homeopathy. It's not so much a bothersome symptom and not really why I was in this guy's office.

I guess I have to call him Dr. B. Convenient for this blog that all my doctors have different initials! We're running through the alphabet though...

No mention of acupuncture. Must admit that I was relieved! He said that there was a treatment that works quite well on Tamoxifen-takers. The only debate was, do I take it when I "need" it or consistently? I hated to admit it but I told him, the nightmares are all the time. I also can't "predict" when I'll fly off the handle. For example (which I didn't recount to him), some woman accused me of tapping her car's bumper. You have to be careful in France, especially when you have an accent. I really got furious with her and luckily, Daniel was home to intervene. People don't give him crap like they do with me...

Continual treatment. Better idea... I'm to try it for a month and if it's not working, to contact him. Otherwise, I can come back in three months.

At the pharmacy a few meters away, they gave me, not pills in packages like we usually get in France but the pharmacist gave me eight small vials. I told him I've never done an actual homeopathic treatment before so he explained it.

They were in two little groups. I'm to take one on Wednesdays and one on Sundays. Before eating or drinking anything, I'm to wash out my mouth and deposit the contents of the vial on my tongue and leave it there for at least a minute, before swallowing. He explained that the active ingredients are very diluted, which matches what I already know about homeopathy.

Both the pharmacist and Dr. B. said there are no side effects. I guess I don't have anything to lose but I need to wait till Wednesday to start.

Successful First Post-Cancer Check

I wasn't too surprised but I was still nervous.

I did 50 laps in the pool and then headed over to the Mammography center, which was easy as both are in Schiltigheim.

Just before the center, there was a large pond and I saw a large swan family sitting on the side. As Davina is nuts for baby birds (anything really but especially birds) I looked at the time and decided I had a few minutes to do baby swan photos. Eight little ones and the parents were pretty cool. I expected them to get all hissy but they let me get pretty close. I couldn't get a shot of all 8 because one little guy wandered into the grass. They were adorable. Eight is good luck for both Jews and Chinese (since I've decided anything Chinese applies to me too). It was a sign!

I knew it wouldn't start off smoothly. First, she asks for my "ordinance" and of course, I don't have one. I'm under Dr. N.'s instructions. He can explain it to you. "Do you have your records?" I had a whole bag of them. I thought I'd organized it but somehow couldn't find the one I so delicately labeled "Boob pics". Maybe in the car? Wasn't far so I popped down there. No, they were in the bag after all. I had to go back to the desk and pretended I had just retrieved them, or a classic case of "don't ask, don't tell". She takes the "boob pics", my health card and tells me to take a seat.

They call my name and I go in the back. I had just hit "send" to FB with the baby swan photo. The tech starts launching into a speech on how the mammograms work and if I want a second opinion, etc. When I heard the "...now that you're 50..." I stopped her. 50 is the age they start mammos in France. "This is not a normal control. Yes, I just turned 50 but I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer in October." I was getting undressed anyway, so I just turned around and she could see the still-red boob with two scars.

Ohhhhhh!

Turns out, the girl at the desk filled out the normal fist mammogram paperwork. She should have realized that when a patient shows up with an entire bag of X-rays, chances are, it's not her first mammogram.

The tech took the form and ripped it up. "Won't be needing this!" I fell into a whole different category. "Do we do both breasts or just the one that had cancer?" Um. Is this a real question? I decided to bite my tongue. "Please do both" I said simply.

While she was doing the mammogram, I explained that I've actually been screened since I was 20 years old, a BC case in the family, etc. This was not a new experience for me!

The red boob did okay with being squished. I could see that she was a little nervous with it but I assured her that she could even go further, squishing it into the machine.

Finally done. Neither ultrasound room was ready so I had to wait. There are two rooms with ultrasounds on either side of the mammogram room and I remember it was the one on the right where this was found. Please, left room be available next! Luck...

Soon that familiar white coat and white hair swept in. He asked first about my pint-sized Drama Queen and I assured him that she was fine, but still being dramatic. "At least we know the foot's not broken".

I was wearing a sweat jacket, a habit I cultivated during radiation. They don't usually provide hospital gowns in France. Only for my MRI and surgery did I get them. I now bring a zip-up fleece jacket with me, so I don't have to walk or sit around naked. "Are you cold?" he asked patronizingly. "No. I'm wearing my own jacket because in civilized countries..." and whipped out an article on breast screening options my sister wrote about a month ago for the Chronicle, that I had printed up the evening before. I pointed to the picture of a woman getting a hand-held ultrasound, the procedure I was about to have. She was wearing a hospital gown. "Women get to wear (and I said in English) hospital gowns!"

"Yes a blouse (said like "bluz" in French). Oh I hate those! Extra stuff that needs to be pushed aside. They get in the way. No, I don't like those..."

"Guess you don't like these either!" I said, throwing my jacket off (the bra and top were already on the hook and I noticed that he noticed, which spared me the "You were supposed to be undressed" speech). "That's my sister's article..." I pointed to her name.

"It is?" and he starts looking at it, flipping through the four pages in English. I explained that she's the health reporter for the S.F. Chronicle, the main newspaper for northern California.

"LATER!" I told him. "It's for you. Take it and read it later. And by the way, why didn't you ever tell me that you speak English??"

"Yes, I can speak...some... English..." he said, putting the article to the side. Well, I told him that a mutual friend couldn't "believe" that I "never even tried to speak to him in English". I told him what I told her; I'm French, he's French and we're in France...

"C'est normal!" the typical French expression. Then he said one sentence in English and I tried not to giggle. I think he was putting it on, to dissuade me from any further attempts at using it with him. He won.

I was lying down too high on the table and he had me move down. I sighed and put my arm over my eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Just do it! How okay I am depends on what happens now..." so he got started.

"Distract me" I instructed him. "Tell me why you are here in this cold place while you have all those relatives back in California."

So he did. Which actually got pretty complicated. The parents were in France. He escaped by boat with his siblings, uncles and their children after the fall of Saigon, when he was 14.

"Boat people!" he said, in English.  Then he listed all the refugee camps he was sent to. I got a little confused by his pronunciation of "Subic Bay" and "Guam". He also started talking quite quickly and I noticed that his usually very light accent got more pronounced as he continued. I was losing count of the relatives...

They ended up in a camp in Pennsylvania, Pittsburg, I believe, when the decision was made to send the four siblings back to their parents (or maybe it was just the mother by then) to France. One moved to the States on his own later, marrying a woman he met in the camps who had settled in the U.S. He had told me that story years ago during another ultrasound...

The uncles said they had lost everything and wanted to stay in the U.S. One of them died a few weeks ago in California. I was curious where he was buried, since my father and grandmother are in Lafayette (lots of cemeteries there, I told him) but it was a cremation in San Jose. That's where I worked in the cafe with the Nguyen family (only non-Vietnamese employee, I told him). Ah, if I could only find my old boss. Her sons are doctors but I don't know the speciality...

He moved to the affected breast, which is still red but no longer hurts-I thought! Since breasts just kind of sit there on your chest, and normally aren't squished by plastic objects running over them, so there's no way to know. But it wasn't terribly painful and I didn't say a word. I didn't want him to compromise the process in any way!

"You're not seeing anything, right?" I'd ask every once in awhile. "Nothing of concern on that screen??"

"You already looked at the mammogram, right?" He assured me that he did, not that anything has ever been found on mine...

Was it true that he went back to Vietnam every summer. Not every summer. Not this summer. "I need to stay here and make money." I asked if he always went to the same hospital and he said yes. Where? Saigon. Seemed he didn't want to talk about it so we moved on...

He was then talking about his cousin who was a pediatrician, hated it and then went back and got her residency in radiology instead. "How old was she when she did this?" 35. She must have really hated pediatrics! He said it was more the demands of the parents than any dislike of the children but still, she didn't like the work...

Talk about the MRI, I thought to myself. Gotta bring it up!

He was done. "Nothing" he declared. "Everything's fine."

Relief! It's done. I survived!

Bring up the MRI.

He pulled off about two yards of paper to clean myself up. He uses copious amounts of gel every time.

"Now, next fall, I'm getting an MRI, right?"

"Yes."

"...and you're going to give me clearer instructions this time. No more vague 'make an apt.' stuff. What days are you at Strauss?" the cancer center with the MRI machine.

"Monday afternoons."

"Yes, good. I make the apt. with your office or with Strauss?"

"My office. They can do it."

"And I want an ordinance." which is French for the order, which is kind of silly, since he would be ordering himself to do the MRI, like telling himself what to do.

"You don't need one."

"Yes I do. Especially at Strauss. You have no idea what it's like for patients there AND I have an accent. I am not walking in there and just saying 'Dr. N. told me to come' like this time. We had enough confusion today!"

He sighed, rolled his eyes but promised I could get an order.

"...and once again, why do you want to do another mammogram on me? Again, explain to me WHY you want to expose me to even more radiation than I've already had??"

"Well, first of all, procedure..."

"I don't want to hear that word. I want a reason that doesn't involve that word."

"I understand why you don't want to hear that word."

"Good. You realize this means I have to make TWO appointments, one at Strauss and the other here to do this all-so-necessary mammogram? When you've never found anything on any of my mammograms..."

In a small voice he said "Okay. We'll just do...the MRI..."

YES! Victory. I tried not to gloat.

"I see Dr. G. in two weeks. Is he going to get mad at what we're doing without his instructions?"

"Noooo! Of course not!"

Yeah right, but I let it drop.

"You know a radiologist named...?" I asked. I explained about the thyroid. "Where's the three page letter?" he asked. Oh fudge! I left it in the car. I didn't understand what he meant. What's this about three pages??

"He loves to write on and on. Really, it was only one page?" Guess that's a good sign!

"I wish you could do thyroids. Can't you go do some little formation ("course" in French) so I don't have to go back to him? I wasn't too happy with him. He doesn't explain anything. I even peeked at the screen and he scolded me. So the opposite of you! I was tempted to even say to him 'I'm one of Dr. N.'s patients and I'm not used to be treated like this' but I resisted. He even patted me on the back!" Ultimate patronizing gesture...

"I can do thyroids. Of course I can do thyroid screenings!"

"I asked the endocrinologist specifically if I could go back to you for it and she gave me this whole speech about how radiology was this very specialized field and though you're a good radiologist, you're not trained specifically for thyroids..." He looked more than a little annoyed.

"Look, they all say it's not grave (serious). I'll wait to see the endocrinologist in June. It's weeks and weeks to get an apt. but she does explain things, at least better than that radiologist. If she wants me to go to him, I'll go to him. Okay... I'll ask again!"I really can't say no to Dr. N.!

Damn! Why did I leave the letter in the car??

"Go get it and I'll look at it!" Noooo, I can't take up any more of your time. I was throwing my legs over the the table to get up. I was still holding the paper to my chest, not keen to do any wiping in front of him (and really not sure why but I was!) He stood up and had my sister's article in his hand, rolled up and was punching it from either side of his fist.

"You're okay. Really. No problem."

"Good." I answered. He then patted me on the shoulder, but for some reason, it didn't feel patronizing.

Me and my big bag of X-rays headed home. The baby swans weren't there anymore when I drove out.

Waiting three months WAS a good idea!!!

Funny how so many of my Tamoxifen problems have seemed to gotten better all by themselves. I'm so grateful that my gynecologist asked me to wait three months. I think the swimming has helped. I'm still not sure about my cycle. It did some funky stuff and I'm kind of waiting to see what's next in store for that but at least that's a "symptom" that is annoying at worst.

I did 46 laps this morning without stopping. Then 4 more without the fins to round it off to 50. I also did 50 on Friday, going away this weekend.

On Wednesday, I took my complaining Little One to the ped because she said her foot hurt. He wasn't too concerned. Xray? Perhaps a good idea. We had a green stick fracture with Talia and a sprain with Ronnie. Guess it's Davina's turn!

Now here is the dilemma; if it needs casting, we do better going to Illkirch which is equipped but kind of far. I took Ronnie straight there because I was sure he'd need something done. With Davina, it was less obvious. The temptation is to go back to Adassa, which has no orthopedic or emergency dept. but, Dr. N. and his partner can get someone in there faster. Taking anyone to Hautepierre is out of the question unless it's a dire emergency. That's where they almost sent me to give birth to Talia and I pitched a fit that was only appeased with sending me to Dr. N. I waited there for hours with Talia's broken arm. It seriously ranks lower than Strauss in my book!

I asked Davina, since she's old enough. We can do your X-ray at Adassa, nice and close, and hope it's not broken OR drag down to Illkirch. Don't let me influence you!

Davina couldn't get in till the next day but it's like 300m from her school. She was fascinated with the equipment, as she always is with medical stuff. They did the X-ray and I was wondering which doctor we'd see.

I was back in Dr. N.'s office, looking a bit brighter than when I found out I had cancer, thanks to his opening the shutters a bit more. I think I've never seen his office looking so cheery! I sent Davina in first and he immediately said that she was fine. Nothing was broken.

I said to Davina in English (since I now know he understands) "This is who plays volleyball with Aleksander's Papa" and he laughed. "They're together in Talmud Torah". Dr. N. looked confused. "No, his wife is Jewish, not him and our kids are in the same class." He still looked confused. "Talmud Torah? Religious class!"Then he got it.

I told him I'd see him in exactly a week. He mentioned in conversation that his schedule got messed up due to an uncle who died and he had to attend the funeral in California.

"You have relatives in California??"
"Yes, outside of San Francisco, a small place..."
"Where? I'm from outside of San Francisco."
"Do you know Lafayette?"
"I'm from Walnut Creek."
"I know where that is! I took the train to San Francisco."
"Yes, the next stop after Lafayette. You mean BART."
"Yes, the BART train..."

Then he lists all of his family members, what speciality they're in and at what hospital, including one where my sister was born. Most of them were, also radiologists.

"Okay, I know about medical families but was that 4 or 5 of you in the same speciality?" I think I'm in the presence of someone from the Royal Family of Radiologists, on three continents!

He looks at me in all seriousness and says "Well, my brother-in-law is a cardiologist..." I really tried not to burst out laughing.

I glance at Davina, being completely ignored, but looking highly entertained with it all. She knows Lafayette as being where Grandpa works. I had to mention it. IF any had high schoolers, they probably had my stepdad.

My mom was actually really thrilled to hear about this as her radiologist is overdue to retire. Next time, I'll ask, not necessarily for one of his many radiologist relatives but simply a recommendation at that hospital. But it would be novel if it were one of his relatives; my being treated by him in France and my mom by his cousin or whatever, back in California? We just need an insider suggestion.

My appointment is in a week. So dreading it! 

Make My Day!

I try not to overshare this adventure on Facebook. The message I want to share is about breast density. California has had this law for over a year.

A childhood friend was following along, so she took a look at her own records. It was clearly marked on her mammo that she was also Fibrocystic, apparently with the note "results: inconclusive".

She confronted her doctor with this fact. The problem is that she's been waltzing out with supposedly clear mammograms for ages! She told him my story. He wasn't keen on using the ultrasound. He did come up with a good compromise: breast MRI.

Of course, they found something. She's getting it biopsied today and they're pretty certain it's benign, as most biopsies are. Kind of a stressful way of finding it out. I'm wishing her luck today and hope this is the last she time she has to go through this.

It's a nice feeling that what I went through has helped to get someone else better care. Of course, in a Perfect World, doctors would tell their patients that they're fibrocystic and they wouldn't need to confront them and have to take it upon themselves to demand further screening. Sigh. How many women are out there not knowing??