lizartist's Cancer Blog

June 11, 2007

Medi-Cal insurance question (Wedding on hold!)

Views: 838

Hi,
Well I missed two chemos in the last few weeks. The first because my platelets were too low, the next because my white blood cells are too low. So now I hope after five week’s break, I’ll be ready for my second to last chemo this Wednesday.
I am tired as hell, could sleep all day in fact.
I do go for my walks most days, but have to drag myself on some of them.
Question is this; after six years, my boyfriend wants to get married. We actually went down and got the marriage license and were all ready to go when his sister pointed out that if we get married, my Medi-Cal insurance would most likely cancel me. Anyone else out there had a similar type of situation? For now the wedding is postponed indefinitely.

Posted on June 11, 2007 at 5:19:42 PM by Liz Boeder ( Medi-Cal insurance question (Wedding on hold!), 3 comments)

Liz – It is so great to hear from you. Love the new photo. Glad you are getting close to being done with chemo. That is so sweet that you guys are thinkging about getting married. I hope somehow it can work. I can’t believe the deal with your insurance. That is nuts. You might want to add a comment on Tanya’s blog, she might have some info for you with all the insurance crap she has been through.

Posted on June 11, 2007 at 5:50:04 PM by jill

I don’t know about the insurance thing… but you look beautiful. Hope the chemo works out. Take care.

Posted on June 14, 2007 at 6:10:21 PM by slockwooclimbs

Liz,
I’m going to put the word out to all of my friends that a dear friend of mine needs support. We will help you in any way that we can.

Love Marc

Posted on October 22, 2007 at 2:41:50 PM by marc

May 11, 2007

There's an Angel in my Bathroom

Views: 813

A few days ago, in the midst of chemo-hell, I read an email from a friend who has organized my daughter’s school community to bring groceries and dinners. The message mentioned a friend, one whose husband is recovering from lymphoma, and that this stranger would like to help me, us, now.
I have never met this woman, but I emailed her. She called me a few hours later, and I don’t mind telling you her name. Kim Hamer. That’s what they call angels these days, I guess. We talked about cancer, we laughed about the indignities it foists, both physical and economic. She offered to help. And then she did an extraordinary thing.
She offered to come over and clean my bathroom.
For those of you who haven’t seen this bathroom, well, it hasn’t been scrubbed in a month. I do know some of you will understand.
I get queasy just looking at the sink sometimes, even though my daughter cleaned it the other day. On the other hand, it doesn’t take much to make me queasy.
Kim offered to clean our bathroom, which includes our toilet. Now, our toilet isn’t the grossest one in the world, maybe, but it is our toilet. How could someone do that? Offer to clean our toilet? After she’s just spent months taking care of her gravely ill, but now much better husband? She should be too tired, too sick of sickness, all “gived-out”.
I wept at the kindness, the humanity of it. Through my tears I spluttered, “Uh maybe sometime next week”. Kim said, “That’s fine, but I’ll keep calling you every day until you let me come clean your bathroom”.
I relented, but only because another angel had asked for our help earlier in the week. The mom of one of my daughter’s friends has been consistently and selflessly taking care of Morgan weekend after weekend since my surgery. Before all this, we had only once met this woman (Hannah Galloway, another angel), and our daughters didn’t even hang out. Rather out of the blue, this mom began taking Morgan to and from school when needed, having her over for two and three days at a time on the weekend, even bringing food.
But a week ago, I learned Hannah is having neck surgery today. She asked if we could take her daughter for a couple of days. Although I knew this is my chemo week, I replied we’d be glad to take her, and we are.
Then Kim called, insisting she come clean our bathroom. And because we have a little houseguest this weekend, I found myself saying “Yes, please come tomorrow at 10am”.
And at 10 this morning, Kim was here, at my door, with a wash bucket and rubber gloves in hand. I had never even seen this woman before, and she is the cutest thing in the world. (Angels are cute!)
She gave me a strong and gentle hug, warming my ears with that fabulous laugh I’d heard on the phone, and then set straight to work on the bathroom.
I hobbled over to my bed, and collapsed. As I lay there, I heard her scrubbing away, rinsing, spraying. Industriously, yet quietly cleaning. Once in a while I’d call out to her, to tell me about herself, and her family, and we’d talk for a bit, but then she’d excuse herself, saying, “I have to get back to work”.
When she finished, she came over to my bed and gave me a hug. We talked for a while, and I encouraged her to not only be the one who gives, to please let others give to her, too. She smiled and said, “Thank you for letting me do this for you.”
I guess that’s what angels do.

Posted on May 11, 2007 at 1:54:46 PM by Liz Boeder ( There's an Angel in my Bathroom, 3 comments)

Oh my gosh. Thanks so much for sharing this story! I’m touched. Ok, I’ll admit, I’m crying! Thank you for sharing. I want to clean someone’s bathroom.

Posted on May 11, 2007 at 2:17:10 PM by slockwooclimbs

What a wonderful story. I guess there are angels all around us if we just have eyes to see.

Posted on May 11, 2007 at 4:27:59 PM by dand

Liz – It is so great to hear from you. Glad things are going so well. What sweet angels you have in your life.

Posted on May 14, 2007 at 8:29:13 AM by jill

February 26, 2007

Another update from Morgan!

Views: 1113

Hello, all! This is Morgan, Liz’s daughter. My mom is absolutely fine. She’s having a speedy recovery. I would just like to update you all. As you may or may not know, my mom had surgery about a month ago to remove the cancer. This is how they explained it to me – “We’re taking the bad tissue out and putting new, good tissue from your mother’s belly in.” Yeah, right. They totally chopped her boob off. But I’m okay with that – it’s the fact that she’s going to do chemo that bugs me. How am I going to live without her frizzy yellow hair? It’s going to be quite a shock, but it’ll be fine. She’s a bit worried about it. She’s having her first session of chemo next Tuesday we think. Thank you guys for all your support! She gets so happy when she sees a new comment or whatever.

Posted on February 26, 2007 at 6:47:53 PM by Liz Boeder ( Another update from Morgan!, 1 comment)

Hey Liz and Morgan! It is so great to hear from you gals! I am glad that the surgery went well. Please keep us updated on how the chemo goes. We are thinking of you both. Hope your mom is still painting.

Posted on February 26, 2007 at 6:54:56 PM by jill

February 1, 2007

Dear Blog for a Cure,

Views: 801

I’m Morgan, Liz’s daughter. I would just like to give you the update as to what’s going on with my mom. As you know, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. But what you may not have known that she had surgery last Wednesday. I forget the really long word for it, but what happened is that the doctors took out the bad tissue in her breast nd put in some of her belly fat. Sounds kinda gross, I know, but it worked! She got back from the hospital this Sunday. She’s doing great, putting around the house and watching a lot of TV! She would be typing this if she could, but she just doesn’t feel like being on the computer right now. Here’s some words from mom: her centinal node came back negative and her margins are clear. It’s Greek to me! Anyway, that’s the update!

Posted on February 1, 2007 at 6:42:01 PM by Liz Boeder ( Dear Blog for a Cure,, 3 comments)

Morgan – thanks so much for the update. It was so great to see Liz’s picture in the recently updated blogs and to hear she is doing well. Take lots of R&R after that surgery. We are all thinking of you two.

Posted on February 1, 2007 at 7:16:25 PM by jill

Oh my gosh, thanks for the update. My heart sank when I read “this is morgan, liz’s daughter”. SO GLAD IT IS GOOD NEWS! Thanks for sharing and tell your mom we are all rooting for her! Go Liz!

Posted on February 1, 2007 at 7:58:11 PM by slockwooclimbs

Hay what is going on with you gal?
Have not heard much lately. You need to fill me in.

Hug Sherri

Posted on February 23, 2007 at 4:56:06 PM by karlak

December 6, 2006

Back from the geneticist

Views: 789

So, after weeks of tense waiting, my insurance has approved the test to find out if I’m BRCA positive. How great! I can’t believe I’m excited to have a test which will help me decide if I want to have my other breast and both ovaries removed.
Guess I am so desperate for some good news I’ll take even this.
Anyone had the test? And what did you decide to do with the information?
The geneticist had me take a test to see if I qualify to participate in a research study for a newly formed branch which looks into the effects of stress on the development of cancer. I took the test and it turns out I’m too depressed, and don’t qualify!
I didn’t even know I was depressed! I thought depressed was not having a single happy thought for weeks on end, but as it turns out thinking you’re a worthless failure with no hope for the future qualifies, too.
She said I ought to talk to someone. This is me,”Gee Doc, I don’t know why I’m so sad. I’ve just been diagnosed with breast cancer. What’s the big deal?” People are diagnosed with breast cancer every day.

Posted on December 6, 2006 at 1:42:59 PM by Liz Boeder ( Back from the geneticist, 4 comments)

I remember I went to do a follow visit about six months after my treatment and they had this big survey that asked a lot of questions about my mental state. You had to rank your answer by 1 to 10, i felt a lot better so most my answers were in the middle ground. But I laughed to myself thinking what my answers would of been had they given me this test six months earlier. I think they would of locked me up. What you are feeling is about the same as me, but you may want to talk to someone, it might help. I would of if my insurance had paid for it. Thanks for the update!

Posted on December 6, 2006 at 1:56:10 PM by jill

Hello Liz!

Depression is so normal in our cases. The ones that doesn’t get depress at the beginning does it at the end of treatment.

Living with breast cancer is not a death sentence if you look at things from some other points. For example, once you are born the only real thing you are sure to get is death; the rest is up to you and circumstances surrounding you. Someone healthy can die by surprise, like in a car crash, at any age.

Depression is really bad for all types of cancer. Try to think about the good things you have in life and enjoy them.

I have learned so much from this journey. Laugh every time you can. Start laughing about your self; that will make you feel stronger. Always look at the positive side of things; they always have one. Live one day at a time, and, NEVER, worry about tomorrow.

Blessings!

Ragis

Posted on December 7, 2006 at 5:25:28 AM by ragis

Hi Liz,
In your last post you refered to yourself as “a worthless failure”.......when it’s more than obvious to me that you are anything but.

I’m going to share something with you that I never meant to bring up in this forum but it might help you to get your priorities straight.
I don’t know if this is appropriate here but here goes.

In 2000 my beautiful 36 year old daughter was killed in an automobile accident. As if that wasn’t senseless enough, the driver of the other car was drunk. She never got the time to say goodbye or to put her affairs in order. She was here one minute and gone the next. I didn’t get the chance to say one last goodbye or to tell her how much I loved her. She left three Sons and a multitude of family and friends who feel so cheated by the way she died and the suddeness of it. She lost a leg and part of one arm in the accident and had she lived she would have made the best of it, we all would have becuase that arm and leg didn’t define who she was.
IF I had been given a choice of how she would leave us, a choice between cancer and the other way I think I would have chosen cancer.

Chances are you won’t die of cancer, I pray you don’t and as Ragis said, you might go out tomorrow and get hit by a car, life is uncertain, and sometimes very unfair but for now cancer is the hand you’ve been dealt.

Take Ragis’s advice, she knows what she’s talking about…....we’re all here to help so vent whenever you feel the need.

Posted on December 7, 2006 at 6:09:49 PM by lillysgrandma

Liz- I’m wondering how you are? Please post.

Posted on January 23, 2007 at 12:37:00 AM by slockwooclimbs

I'm still here

Views: 792

I received a note of concern from one of you fine folks, and so on Monday night I spent an hour composing a poetic diatribe against the medical profession in response. I hit the button to create the post, and all my beautifully composed text disappeared. Guess you weren’t supposed to read that. It’s taken me two days to summon the energy to re-write.
I hope you know your words of concern were the best thing that happened to me that day.
I saw a medical oncologist on Monday. He told me most likely the x-rays I had as a child did not cause my breast cancer. He acknowledged that yes, although mammograms over many years may cause cancer, the number of lives saved justifies the risk. And no, I won’t be able to keep my nipple if I opt for mastectomy. This was just not what I was hoping to hear.
I am attached to that nipple, and it is attached to me. I love it so much I have two, and they match. You could say I have a matched set, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. It has never done anything wrong. Why does it have to go?
At night when I am trying to sleep, my breasts assault my slumber with stabbing pains. Even the one that doesn’t have cancer. I think they’re crying.
I don’t fear dying. I made peace with that idea yesterday.
The doctor says I absolutely will not die of breast cancer. But I will go through the rest of my life having been visibly mauled by the process of their “cure”. Thanks alot, guys.
I now have a wicked head cold, which kind of distracts me in a way from my depression over having cancer.
Why do some people opt to not have reconstruction? I have seen pictures on this site of scarred chests where breasts used to live, and I wonder what was the impetus behind that decision.

November 30, 2006

Now I'm really in it

Views: 790

So I keep having these images of dying on the operating table. I thought I’d ask if my boyfriend could hold my hand throughout the operation to make sure I don’t die.
I am so afraid.
I don’t want to just disappear.
My mom died a few years ago, just like that. Went into the hospital in pain, they operated on her, she went into a coma and never woke up. I never got to have another conversation with her, she couldn’t say goodbye.
They called me to ask if they could pull the plug, as everything was “slowing down”. My mother had begged me to never let her become a “vegetable”, a senseless being on a table. I told them to let her go.
I don’t want my daughter to lose her mother to the black nether world of doctors and machines.
I can’t make sense of anything, I am barely able to listen to anyone and I feel like I’m getting a cold.
On the plus side, I went to my art class today and had a nice lunch with my boyfriend.

Posted on November 30, 2006 at 3:19:02 PM by Liz Boeder ( Now I'm really in it, 3 comments)

Considering what happened to your mom, I think your fears of “dying on the table” are understandable! I’m so sorry you’re going through this, and I’m so sorry you lost your mom. Please hang in there. Our minds are so powerful…just remember that those same images of yourself dying can be turned around. I know you’re feeling crappy…but maybe try visualizing yourself coming out of all this healthy, happy, and better than before. Those positive thoughts are stronger than we realize. You sound like a very strong, intelligent person, and I know there’s someone out there who could learn form your inner strength.

Posted on December 1, 2006 at 5:31:58 PM by tanya

How are you doing Liz? Haven’t heard from you in awhile. Hope you are okay.

Posted on December 5, 2006 at 7:20:31 AM by jill

Hi Liz,
I’m new here so I’d like to say hello.
I see you haven’t posted for awhile so I hope that’s a good sign.
I think you will find that the more torture you endure and survive, the stronger you will get.
I know how defiled and assaulted you feel, we all did, it’s a dirty, ugly disease. They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and truer words were never spoken.
Just hang in there, try to develop a positive attitude, have faith in a higher power and keep focused on the fight. Your daughter needs you.
and please keep posting…........

Posted on December 6, 2006 at 10:56:18 AM by lillysgrandma

November 28, 2006

I guess I had my hopes up way too high

Views: 829

The call I’d been awaiting for two months came last night. I have DCIS in the 9:00 position across from the invasive carcinoma at 12:00, far enough away that the surgeon wants to remove all the tissue in my left breast. My breasts are clocks now, apparently. They are ticking time bombs, if you believe the doctors.
They also want do an MRI guided core needle biopsy on the right breast just to make sure some suspicious looking area on that side isn’t cancer. Plus have a plastic surgeon on hand to do the reconstruction.
Let me make this perfectly clear. I am ABSOLUTELY terrified of surgery. I just think I’ll never wake up. That they’ll be doing all kinds of horrible things to me, and I won’t even be awake to have a modicum of control. That I can’t trust them.
Fact is, I don’t trust any of them. I went in for a routine mammogram. I was not sick, didn’t feel funny, wasn’t losing weight or breaking out in spots. Went in feeling fine, came out, feeling quite sick.
I think they’re giving me cancer with all this poking and hole-making and waiting. They’re killing me anyway, that’s for sure.
I had been hoping my breast could be saved with a lumpectomy. Apparently, I could still do that if I don’t mind “a severely deformed breast” and the possibility they didn’t get all the cancer out. So now my breast has to go, and if these people have their way they’ll probably take my other one and my ovaries too, just for the practice.
I don’t have a family history of breast cancer.
I didn’t feel sick.
I don’t trust doctors.
When I was a little kid, I had severe asthma. But back in those days, the medical community believed asthma was psychosomatic. And that’s what they’d tell me in the emergency room, too. When I sat there, struggling for air, turning blue from lack of oxygen, begging for the medicine that would open my airways, they would say to me, “Why don’t you just relax? This is all in your head.”
I was in the hospital for all of second grade, and many times after that. A month here, a week there, overnighters and weekenders. And every time, a battery of x-rays to make sure I didn’t have pneumonia. I never did have pneumonia as a child.
As a young teenager I developed a curvature in my spine as the result of lack of exercise as a child. The doctors had to do more x-rays.
In my late teens I ended up with pneumonia and bronchitis. More x-rays.
The radiation the body absorbs in tender breast tissue from 10 x-rays is equal to being a mile away from Hiroshima when the bomb went off.
My chest has been x-rayed close to 100 times.

Posted on November 28, 2006 at 4:26:45 PM by Liz Boeder ( I guess I had my hopes up way too high, 8 comments)

Oh Liz what crappy news. This time is so hard. You are still adjusting to the first bit of news when they start hitting you with the next bit of crappy news. You will make it through surgery. I think someday we will look back on the treatment they have for cancer and just shake our heads. One book described surgery, radiation and chemo as slash, burn and posion, which describes it so well. Hang in there. Take it one day at a time Liz. We are all here for you and we know a little bit what you are going through, in one way or another.

Posted on November 28, 2006 at 5:23:36 PM by jill

I am so sorry to hear of the news.
The hardest thing for me was accepting that I had cancer. I had no symptoms. I was very active. I was young. I had no family history of any cancer at all. I rock climbed every week. How could I have cancer? I did though. It is all surreal isn’t it?
My advice for surgery… get the best doctor you can find. Go to the best hospital you can find. I was also scared I wouldn’t wake up. I did. Unfortunately, I woke up to the news I had cancer but you already know that bit.

Again, I’m so sorry you have to lose your breast. It is all very terrible.

Posted on November 29, 2006 at 7:51:04 AM by slockwooclimbs

Hang in there Liz. Just remember that the doctors ultimately want to save your life. If you don’t trust the one you have, by all means get a second opinion!
I too was in shock with my cancer diagnosis…31 years old, very healthy and active, NO family history, no symptoms, and I have ovarian cancer. I will be having a hysterectomy soon and haven’t had children yet. I too was terrified of the surgery, same fears as you, but I’ve gotten though 2 and have one more. I did wake up, it didn’t really hurt much, and the support from the nurses was amazing.

Get a support system any way you can, if you don’t have friends and family who can help in the ways you need, maybe try a support group. Call the american cancer society, they have AMAZING people who can help in a thousand ways. And keep blogging! We’re here to help!

Posted on November 29, 2006 at 9:36:32 AM by tanya

Hi again,

I just wanted to add one more thing. My husband and I see a therapist every 2 weeks…we were worried that cancer and infertility might be a lot to handle after only 6 months of surgery. Anyway, she’s amazing and helps us a lot. And she’s a 2 year breast cancer survivor herself. I have what you might call “very basic” insurance, and the visits only cost $10 each. It’s the best decision we made to go see her. I don’t know if you have access to anything like that… just a suggestion from my own personal experience.

Hugs to you!

Posted on November 29, 2006 at 9:48:43 AM by tanya

ok, meant to say “after 6 months of marriage”. Ack! Chemo-brain!

; )

Posted on November 29, 2006 at 9:49:40 AM by tanya

Thanks to all of you for your kind and tender encouragement. Never thought I’d be in this kind of hell, and I never thought I’d find such good people! The only thing that gets me through this is art and literature. I wonder if that works for other people too. My surgeon’s office at UCLA has original paintings on every wall, and they bring my soul comfort. I have just finished Howl, the great poem by Allen Ginsberg and am still reading (albeit slowly) Ulysses by James Joyce. Hard to think about cancer stuff when you’re contemplating the meaning of everything, love, relationships, what it means to be human, etc. I wish all of you surcease from pain tonight.

Posted on November 29, 2006 at 6:07:00 PM by lizartist

Hi Liz,
I,m Bob and like you I got my news as a birthday “present”, the day after my 55th birthday. I (being male) can’t appreciate all of the emotional and physical agony of breast cancer. I have leukemia. I’m really sorry to hear that your doctors are not giving you enough support. i really like, respect, and admire mine. If there is any chance to change to another physician maybe you should check it out. I know that the current medical insurance situations can be very limiting. One thing, as caring as my doctors are, they would never discuss cancer results by any means other than in person. It frustrated me big time, it’s a 2.5 hour drive to the hospital. Now that it’s done, I can see that the news if given by phone or mail would have been way too impersonal.
I wish there was some way we could help you. The emotional rollercoaster is so difficult.
Like you, I’m an artist and the disease has robbed me of my art for a while. At work I invent and at home, i sculpt and draw, or i did. Now I have no physical or emotional energy for any of it, but I’m going to bounce back. i try too hard and get too tired, but it’ll come.
I have no idea of whether or not this will help you, but trust that some genuine and kind words from a person who wakes up with the little voice inside saying “you’re dying” could help.
I pray for your comfort and recovery.
Bob

Posted on November 30, 2006 at 5:08:06 AM by sonofhss

Bob,
I hope you don’t give up on everything that you are. I am also struggling with my art. I am in the middle of an existential crisis. Like what point is there in making art when life itself seems pointless. But I guess the only answer is that if life is without meaning, maybe art is the only thing that matters.
That’s my very downhearted effort at cheering you up. Sorry, rough day.
Thanks for all your kind words.
I know you’re going to pull through this, just as I am. We just have to make it to noon, right?
I wake up in a funk every day, and then by lunchtime it all seems bearable.
I’m having a group art show with some friends on December 14, if anyone on this list is in the LA area, you’re welcome to attend. It will be in Chinatown, and a good time will be had by all, even me.
Cheers,
Liz

Posted on November 30, 2006 at 3:06:54 PM by lizartist

November 27, 2006

Waiting, and is it better than knowing...

Views: 788

Last week I had three more areas on my left breast biopsied.
I spent Thanksgiving hunched over in pain, but managed to entertain family members and even do a bit of cooking. To everyone’s credit, they’ve been wonderfully helpful. But they still expect more of me than I feel capable of right now.
It’s been six days since the biopsy, should I be having shooting pains in my breast? I called teh doctor’s office and they said to come in, but there’s no sign of infection (just looks like someone ran over my left breast with a truck!) so I declined to go in. Don’t even have the energy to go in after six appointments in seven days.
Today I wait for my surgeon to give me the results of the second biopsy. Rather than start another crying jag (why do I have to have PMS AND cancer? Bad combination!) I read all your lovely posts and am filled with a gratitude and hopefulness that has gone markedly missing from my life. Maybe I will live through this.
But somehow, I still hope the doctor gets too busy to call me tonight, and I have one more night of innocence.

Posted on November 27, 2006 at 4:08:59 PM by Liz Boeder ( Waiting, and is it better than knowing..., 2 comments)

Liz – I hope you received some good news. ;-)

Posted on November 28, 2006 at 8:45:48 AM by jill

What ever comes you will handle it. You can handle it and you will. Good luck and I really hope you get good news.

hugs

Posted on November 28, 2006 at 12:27:42 PM by slockwooclimbs

November 25, 2006

More tests as you (all must know better than I)

Views: 784

So then my doctor makes an appointment for me to meet with a surgeon. Dr. Chang. Nice lady, head of the Revlon Breast Center here. She puts my mammogram up, pointing out a few more areas of concern.
I am drowning in fear.
They talk about “saving the breast” and what they do if they “can’t save the breast”. I am still terrified of surgery. What if I die during surgery? What will happen to my daughter?
They tell me I have to see a pulmonologist because of my asthma, have an MRI done, see a geneticist, and have ANOTHER biopsy.
My boyfriend is at my side, which is good, because I can’t put a sentence together. I talk to a psychologist, who tells me everything I am feeling is normal. How can it be normal when everything is so abnormal?
There’s nothing normal about this!
My daughter, who now knows about as much as I do, asks me every day if I’m going to die.
I’m not certain, but I tell her no.
You see, I still don’t know the extent of what I have. My daughter turns thirteen in two hours. She was born on Thanksgiving.

Posted on November 25, 2006 at 10:12:27 PM by Liz Boeder ( More tests as you (all must know better than I), 2 comments)

Hang in there Liz – this is one of the hardest parts. There are so many appointments and everything is new. Try to take one day at a time and not get to overwhelmed by everything. If you are not sure of anything be sure to ask questions. This is a good forum or any place where you can reach out to other survivors. There were so many things I found out from fellow survivors that helped me along the way. so please don’t hesitate to ask.

Posted on November 26, 2006 at 7:10:02 PM by jill

Dear Liz,

Wow, such bad news and I know it SUCKS. What a terrible welcome to your forties, and equally bad for your newly teenage daughter.

Once the shock wears off a bit, it’s time to tackle the big learning curve. Well, for me, anyway, learning all about the process gave me back the tiniest sense of control.

#1 piece of advice: in spite of medi-cal, you absolutely, positively must get at least a second opinion before you decide what treatment path to pursue. You are the captain of your cancer ship and one doctor’s point-of-view is not enough to give you the full perspective.

My heart goes out to you and your daughter and your boyfriend.

Jane

Posted on November 27, 2006 at 5:10:33 AM by hipgrandma