I’ve been lucky on every step of this journey, starting all the way back in September 2007.
I found the first nodule myself, and had doctors who took it seriously.
My wonderful primary care doc just happened to be friends with two of the best thyroid cancer doctors–in the world. She put in two calls and hooked me up, quite literally, for the rest of my life.
I work for a company that provides fantastic health insurance. I’ve seen my explanation of benefit statements, and their many zeroes. My best guess is that I’ve spent less than $500 out of pocket on three years of care.
Said company’s benefits will also enable me to take as much time off this spring and summer as I need.
I live in a city that’s within driving distance of Boston.
I found friends here who make a damn fine family when I can’t get to the real one often enough, including those who quite rightly understand that sometimes there are no answers, and the best response is to find a corkscrew and pour a glass of wine.
I found a guy who still wanted to go out with me even after I beat him on Sox trivia, and didn’t find it odd to vacation in Detroit if it meant a chance to check off another stadium. He’s stuck around since that trip, although I don’t doubt that there have been weeks and months when living in Detroit may have been easier than living here with me (and thyca).
My friends and family who aren’t here rock, too–and together, make up one hell of a rock. (I managed to cry only three times today from your e-mails, which anyone who knows about our family’s crying gene will recognize as an astounding accomplishment.) I have a lot of shoulders out there waiting for me if I need them.
There is no good cancer, but I’m still damn lucky. I wish everyone in my position could say the same.