Only Thing Worse Than Hearing 'You May Have Cancer' is Hearing it When You Don't Have Health Care

For those of you who didn't see my last post I'll give you a quick recap:

Right before New Year's I had excruciating pain on the right side of my stomach. By the end of a long day spent in the ER the pain had more or less vanished and because I didn't have health insurance, I never did the (oh so expensive) testing to find out what had caused it.

My take away from the experience was that health insurance was a a non-negotiable so I signed up for my job's plan and went on my merry way.

That is until the pain came back a month later and my insurance hadn't kicked in yet.

It came out of nowhere immediately after I finished the final episode of Netflix's CHEER. The pain was unbearable. I was trying to encompass the strength of the Navarro cheer squad. Those kids were doing Olympic-level tumbling with all kinds of injuries, I could handle some stomach cramps.

Since the pain only lasted one day last time I was committed to toughing this out.

I spent that whole day in agony. And that night. And the next morning.

I had survived my first-ever Dry January and had been so excited to celebrate the Super Bowl with a long awaited glass of wine but I couldn't. I couldn't do anything.

Why wasn't the pain going away like last time? All I could think of was the cost of the CT Scan so I convinced myself to tough it out longer.

But by Tuesday morning, after 3 days of torture I finally went to the ER.

The man at the check-in desk went to put a hospital bracelet on me and told me I had a child's wrists.

"Oh my god, THANK YOU!" I've always considered my tiny wrists to be my best feature.

He asked if I needed a wheel chair to get to a room but I said I could walk.

"Oh come on, it'll be fun!"

What the hell. When in Rome.

He whizzed me through the halls, my poor mother running behind with my purse, trying to catch up.

We got to the room, I changed into that dreadful napkin they call a hospital gown and found the remote.

Praise Jesus! THEY HAVE BRAVO! They were marathoning Season 3 of Vanderpump Rules. Who said hospitals were that bad?

Shortly after a doctor came in. I got them up to speed on my issues and they believed it was still one of the three original potential culprits: appendicitis, kidney stones or an ovarian cyst.

It was a long day of testing. Blood, urine, ultrasound, transvaginal ultrasound (woof), and a CT scan.

The doctor came in to share the results.

At this point I was secretly praying it was something bad enough to get admitted because that was the only way a social worker would come see me to discuss payment options. A small cyst or small kidney stones would just get me sent home with Tylenol.

I was actually hoping I had appendicitis. How fucked up is that?!

The doctor sat beside my bed and muted Lisa Vanderpump.

"Well it's not stones and it's not your appendix." FUCK.

"You have a cyst that's about 11 cm." She held up her hands to demonstrate the size... it was the size of a grapefruit. She said it was so big they couldn't even see my ovary on the scans.

She said that usually with a cyst this size someone would likely experience loss of appetite and sudden weight-loss.

Seriously?! The one symptom I would LOVE to have, I don't.

The world can be cruel and unfair.

And then she said this...

"The cyst appears cancerous."

I felt my mom lunge forward. "I'm sorry, what?!" she asked.

I'm sorry, no where during my Web MD diagnosis did the word cancer ever appear. I was not prepared for this.

The doctor went on to say the cyst was filled with liquid and was at risk for rupturing, which could then potentially leak cancer into my body.

Hearing the word "cancer" should have made my heart stop. But it didn't. It was the thought of having cancer without insurance that made me go pale.

She suggested I make some appointments with a gynecologist so they could do further testing, to better prepare whoever was going to do the inevitable surgery I required. She said it would probably take weeks for me to get an appointment so maybe it would line up with when my insurance was active.

I was so confused. If I have a giant ass cyst that could burst at any moment, possibly leaking cancer into my body, HOW COULD THEY JUST LET ME LEAVE? AND WAIT WEEKS?!

I'm no doctor but that sounded dangerous.

What were the chances that my body would just magically hold out until I was covered and could see a specialist? Not likely.

The doctor sensed my desperation and said she was going to see if there was anything she could do.

Eventually another doctor, this one a gynecologist, came in. She did a 10 second exam and said that had I tried to punch her in the face during it she would have done emergency surgery. But because I didn't (I was no longer in a fit of pain at this point) she said there was nothing she could do. I pleaded that it was only a matter of time before the pain came back. Was I just supposed to keep paying the ER fee and getting the same tests?

She said my only other option was to stay the night to see if the pain came back but that without insurance it would be extremely costly. Thanks a lot.

I just received a $150 bill for that exchange, BTW.

I went home scared and exhausted.

I crawled into bed and did the thing I knew I shouldn't do... I googled Ovarian Cancer.

Two seconds in and I already regretted it. I saw an image that said the survival rate was less than 50%. I closed the screen.

I texted my mom and told her I stupidly went on Google and probably wouldn't sleep now. She responded by saying not to worry, my Grandmother had Ovarian Cancer and she is still going strong at 91.

...but according to the statistic I had just seen, if my grandmother made it... I wouldn't.

I tried to go into work the next day but everything in my inbox looked like Chinese. I couldn't think straight. I felt like I was walking around with a ticking time bomb.

Then FINALLY, some good news!

My amazing soon to be stepsister, Katie is an Oncology Nurse at Pennsylvania Hospital in Philly. She spoke to some people about my situation and they shared my concern that this was an urgent matter. UMM THANK YOU!!

She also gave me the number of a social worker named Sharmell, although she was more of an angel than a social worker. She helped me forget about the stress of the financial end of things so that I could just focus on my health.

The next day I went to their ER and did all the tests over again. More pricks, scans, and countless people looking at my Britney.

Similarly to before, Sharmell said she couldn't really work her magic unless I was admitted. I was starting to get worried. So far, they had just confirmed what we already knew... large cyst. Looks cancerous. But no talks of immediate surgery.

Then a new doctor came in and spoke the words I had been DYING to hear. "You are being admitted and having surgery in the morning."

It was hard to say what the surgery would entail since my ovary and Fallopian tube weren't visible on the scans. They weren't sure how they were being affected. There was a good chance I'd need a least one of them removed. They assured me I could still have children regardless. If during the procedure the situation was more dire and would significantly effect my fertility they'd stop the surgery so I could decide how to proceed.

I told the doctor I had my annual psychic reading a few weeks ago and that the physic made a point to say that I would not have difficulty conceiving... so I wasn't worried. She said it in a reassuring tone that retrospectively made me wonder if she knew I'd be in this situation.

I prepped for surgery the next day and made a point to tell the anesthesiologist about my poor friend Sydney, who tragically lost an eyebrow when the tape was removed from her eyes after a recent surgery.

They assured me that wouldn't happen and then off I went to have the most glorious sleep I've had in ages.

I woke up feeling like Snow White. I felt like I had been sleeping for a month. Once I was alert enough I got the rundown on what took place...

The weight of the cyst had caused my ovary to twist on itself.. FIVE TIMES. My Fallopian tube was also twisted. Both of them had to go. BUT they were able to do it laparoscopicly so I have three cute little scars instead of one monster scar.

And they had low suspicion of anything being cancerous!! Of course only pathology testing could confirm this.

So all in all I was down one cyst, one ovary and one Fallopian tube but up ONE NEW GLORIOUS OUTLOOK ON LIFE.

One week later, on Valentine's Day I got the results confirming everything was in fact, benign.

As relieved as I was, my secondary emotion was sadness. Sadness for every person that's ever had to wait for those test results and had a different outcome.

Cancer has affected so many close to me. I've always admired their strength and fearlessness but it wasn't until I faced being in their shoes that I realized just how strong and fearless they really are. YOU ARE ALL WARRIORS!

My takeaway from this whole ordeal is this...

You can't put a price on your health. Plain and simple.

I may be paying off these hospital bills for the rest of my life but it will be a long, happy and healthy life.

XX.

A