Thanks for visiting and for your concern for my mom, Sue Hamilton. On November 23, 2018 (Black Friday), we learned that she had cancer after she experienced some unexpected bleeding. The initial diagnosis we were given was vaginal cancer. However, as of yet, the doctors do not feel that they've been able to make a fully accurate diagnosis. It's possible that she also has uterine or ovarian cancer that has spread into the vaginal wall. She will have surgery on January 10, 2019 to discover the location of the cancer and to remove as much as can be removed surgically.
The last few weeks have been a bit of a whirlwind. Coupled with the holidays, she's been undergoing many medical tests and procedures in advance of her surgery. The doctors tell us that all the tests are part of the homework they need to do to have the best understanding of the cancer before the surgery. However, the not knowing exactly what we're up against (along with an overall lack of experience with the medical system) has been a difficult part of this journey. We've had a crash course on cancer and all its associated vocabulary, the ins and regrettable number of outs in dealing with the insurance company, and the full range of emotions that come when we are confronted with our own mortality.
The timing of the diagnosis also presents some distinct financial challenges. My mom does not have a healthcare plan through an employer. She purchases her own insurance through the Colorado Health Exchange at a cost that was approximately $502 per month. The plans that can be purchased by individuals have high deductibles. Her deductible and out-of-pocket maximum are the same--nearly $6,650. Because the year has just ended, she has to pay the out-of-pocket maximum twice in very close succession. She has enough savings to cover only the first. In addition, she is not currently able to work at her job that she loved (being a preschool teaching assistant). The surgery (and followup treatment) will put her out of commission to work for at least a few months, and she has no temporary disability insurance available to her. We've been focused on all the medical tests thus far, but in the near future need to investigate opportunities of support that might exist for her while she is unable to work and medical expenses are high.
We've investigated some alternative treatments that might be helpful to her including CBD oils, medical cannabis, a mistletoe treatment (yes, you read that correctly...apparently mistletoe does more than just promote awkward holiday kissing), as well as other dietary changes and supplements. Of course, alternative treatments are not covered by insurance, which adds another layer of complexity. After the surgery, our focus will shift toward followup treatment, which will likely include chemotherapy. We'd like to investigate some complementary alternative treatments to help address the toll that chemo takes on the body.
The last few weeks have been hard on the whole family. There have been lots of tears. I've wished many times that there was a magic potion that could fix everything and remove this trial from my mom's path. I've gone through an angry tantrum phase of lamenting how unfair it all is. But I think that we are learning to recognize that our definition of what "should be" or what is "good" is often based on false perceptions. What is truly good and beautiful may not be found on the low, easy path. Trials and hardship are what unlock our depths, what grow our soul, and what unleash our truest love and tenderness. And while we resist and detest the process, it's really the only thing that's going to get us where we need to go.
About a week ago, we were blessed to cross paths with a wise oncology nurse. It was a moment when we were feeling particularly kicked about by the cancer system. The day before we had met with a specialist (OBGYN oncologist) who will be my mom's surgeon. She was competent and experienced (and even kind), but it felt like we were sitting across the table from the Grim Reaper. There was so much to go wrong and no clear path toward things being made right or normal again. We needed a dose of hope. And it came through a nurse who was willing to sit down with us for over an hour answering question upon question. But she did more than just bring us up to speed on cancer treatments, she restored our faith in our ability to survive this crazy thing. And not just survive, but to reinvent and grow, to blossom in a new field. Cancer can have a silver lining. It can have a beautiful side. The next part of our journey is about finding that joy in the midst of the hardship. To be open to those depths that can only be found on the high road and to recognize the beauty all around us that we so often fail to see.
Thank you all for your care, for your prayers, and for your support. We are hopeful and trust that we are exactly where we need to be. That the longest way round is often the shortest way home.
We're going ahead with the service tomorrow as planned. The walk may be a little abbreviated, especially if it's quite icy. However, the clubhouse is heated, so there's no problems there. I'm really hoping the roads are clear and the sunshine is out by 11:30 a.m.
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