Bob heard me telling someone on the phone that I have kidney cancer. “Liver! You have liver cancer!” he yelled from the other room. Oh yeah. That’s right.
I don’t feel stressed out, but I think there’s much more going on than I’m readily aware of. My brains just stop working periodically. Packing up at the hotel after Farm Aid, I went into a full sweat, severe nausea panic when I realized I didn’t have my work notebook. I do still use a physical notebook, for taking notes on calls, keeping “to do” lists… it being gone meant that I would be completely lost about what I was supposed to be doing at work the next day. We searched the hotel room one last time, I dumped out the contents of my backpack. I texted everyone I’d worked with over the weekend. In the car to meet friends for brunch before going to the airport, I filed a claim with the airline, assuming I’d left it in the gate or on the plane on the flight out. Filing a lost item claim costs $39.99, in case you’ve never had to do that. I happily paid it. I tried to convince myself that I’d survive, and was able to have a nice time with our friends before heading to the airport. Dropping off the rental car, Bob reminded me to check the glove compartment: there was my notebook.
I’m basically feeling confident about my treatment plan. A bit suspicious about my surgeon, though. What if they only give the “Head of Surgery” title to docs who suck at operating? Keep them tied up on administrative tasks. I asked the Physician’s Assistant about that. She said that she worked for this doctor exclusively her first years at Mayo, and at the time he was asked to step into the Head of Surgery position, he’d done more of the surgeries he’s doing on me than anyone in the world.
Yeah, but is he any good?
We’ve had a week of down time after all upcoming appointments were scheduled, plans finalized. Spent most of last week at the cabin, where the leaves are falling and the coots are staging on the lake. We’re back to fires in the woodstove every night. It was lovely.
Now back in the city and things are starting to move, so to speak. I have my first-ever colonoscopy tomorrow. We’re just crossing common cancers off the list. Intense prep will start in a couple hours. I’ve loved the last couple days of low-fiber pre-prep, a huge excuse to eat all the shit I normally don’t: pizza, yogurt, rice Chex with bananas and a layer of white sugar, white bread turkey sandwich, chocolate torte with whipped cream. My go-to DQ treat on the way home from the cabin: Medium cone dipped in chocolate with crunch. No fiber to be found. I’m setting aside the stringent no gluten, cane sugar, dairy, corn, soy, etc., etc. diet for the moment. There are bigger issues at hand.
Oh, and we just heard from our health insurance broker on numbers for 2023 plans:
“Small group premiums continue to raise and unfortunately, there isn’t another option within the small group space that will provide savings. There would definitely be some premium savings by moving to an individual plan through our private market, however the networks are limited, no option that includes Mayo and no option that extends outside of MN.”
I told her we’re locked into Mayo at this point. My rate only went up about seven bucks a month. Total new cost for the two of us, assuming we max our deductible (it’s only $2,400 each, so we usually do): $25,542.96 total health care out of pocket for 2023 (not counting dental or eye glasses). And I’m feeling lucky that we’re grandfathered into a small group plan, as husband/wife business owners. They don’t write small group policies like that anymore. The whole system is crazy.