lornagrl

Good bye 2007....you sucked.

It is now 8:45 pm just three hours and fifteen minutes left of this dreadful year. 

I am not going to miss it. 

Here's to a GREAT 2008!!!

Happy New Year!!!

Unicare Sucks....

I know that I haven't been posting much and a real post is coming soon.  I just want to point you to my friend Nikki who was denied medical coverage because she is taking a (gasp!) anti-depressant.  The story hit a little close to home for me because insurance is going to be a dodgy thing for me for the next...oh..ten years.  No insurance company is going to accept me with a history of breast cancer. 

However, denying somebody because of an anti-depressant is simply ridiculous.  Doctors prescribe these drugs like candy. How can an insurance company reasonably expect that nobody has ever had an anti-depressant prescription?  I used to work in marketing for a pharmaceutical company whose biggest money maker was an anti-depressant and believe me, they spend a lot of money encouraging doctors to whip out those prescription pads.  Pretty soon nobody is going to be able to afford these drugs because they can't get insurance, because they were prescribed an anti-depressant at some point.

I see a pattern forming.

Fresh Direct..don't use them.

I hate Fresh Direct. 

I would have loved to use their services but they refuse to deliver in my area.  They keep saying that they will be delivering soon but they never do.  But I'm glad I read this article because in the unlikely event they ever deliver out here in no-man's land, I wouldn't use them anyway.  $7.85 an hour for packing produce in 38 degree cold?  I don't think so.  That's $62.80 a shift to stand in almost freezing temperatures for eight hours. 

Think about that while you eat your arugula.

Vodka and Tonic

So I've completed one full week of radiation this week.  (Well actually five days of it).  I have tiny tattoos that look more like beauty marks so they can line me up properly.  The treatments take all of ten minutes and it doesn't feel like anything.  After putting me into place the technicians step out of the room, seal me in and then I hear a buzz.  There is no light, I don't feel any kind of energy, nothing. 

I think it's a trick. 

I saw my plastic surgeon last week.  There are still two more surgeries to complete the process.  Buffy and Hildegarde are history.  It's strange to think that part of my stomach is now on my chest. 

I think I'll call them Vodka and Tonic.

My mind is healing faster than my body....

"Are you kidding? I have patients who are still in bed at this stage."

This is what my plastic surgeon told me when I asked him if what I was feeling was normal.  While I am slowly improving I am still unable to stand for long periods of time and walk more than a few blocks. In the morning I feel great, but by the late afternoon my core muscles start to contract and it's very difficult to walk and stand up straight.  I end up going home and laying in bed in front of the tube.  I'm not tired, my body is.  My friends remind me that my body has been through a lot these past few months. I should try to get as much rest as possible.

"You are only one month post-op.  It takes weeks to recover from surgery like this.  Your mind is healing faster than your body."

I start radiation treatments on Monday.  I will be getting treatment every weekday for about fifteen minutes each -- for five weeks.

Then when that's finished I will just be taking a hormone every day and I can put this nightmare behind me.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly...

After almost a week on antibiotics I am finally over that horrendous C-diff.  My plastic surgeon took the drains out on Tuesday and I went back to work on Wednesday.  I'm doing pretty well but I still can't walk very fast and as the day progresses I get a little sore.  My core muscles are still weak and I have to keep reminding myself that I did spend a little over two weeks in bed. Riding the subway is a little scary.  If someone bumps into me it could be very painful. 

Nevertheless I did go out to see a film at the Angelika on Friday.  I saw the previews for The Diving Bell and the Butterfly on the IFC channel and have been wanting to see it ever since.  The film is based on Jean-Dominique Bauby who at age 43 suffered a massive stroke that rendered him completely paralyzed and unable to speak.  The only way he could communicate was by blinking his left eye.  In spite of this he was able to write a book about his experience. An assistant from his publishing company recited the alphabet, and he would blink whenever she spoke the correct letter.   Each word took about two minutes to interpret.  (and I have trouble keeping up with short little blog posts a few times a week.)