It's Official!

 

 

2014 continues on… 

When I returned to work following my hospital stay and weeks off to rest, I was informed that my department was being outsourced and the majority of us were being laid off. I was on the list to be let go in six weeks. 

A previous supervisor contacted me and boldly asked me to train her staff on how to do my particular job (the one that was supposedly being outsourced). I told her exactly what was on my mind, and replied that she should contact the education department for any of her training needs and if she had a problem with that she could kindly go eff herself.  (Except I used the word as opposed to eff) Then I contacted my current supervisor and the supervisor on the next level up. I relayed what had transpired. I was truthful in what words I used and that I did not appreciate being told I was going to be laid off after I was out for medical reasons, that I did not appreciate being told my job was being outsourced only to have another supervisor ask me to train her staff. 

I spent the last few weeks doing the amount of work that reflected the amount of ‘value’ they placed on me as an employee. In other words, I did as little as possible.

I continued to see the gyn/onc, who continued to assure me that I did not have cancer. 

The cardiologist saw me once or twice and then released me from her care.

In the meantime, my landlord decided to raise my rent. I did not look for work because I did not feel well. 

On the last date of medical insurance coverage, I coincidentally had an appointment with the gyn/onc.  When I got to the appointment, he said to me:

“Did my staff call you earlier this week?” 

“No”

“Oh, well, during your last MRI, we found a suspicious mass in your uterus”

“That’s terrible news. I don’t have any medical coverage after today” 

And the gyn/onc told me not to worry - his staff would help me get on the Oregon Health Plan (very similar to Medicaid, but it has copays, etc).

The gyn/onc spent the next two months arguing with the cardiologist because he strongly believed I had suffered a minor heart attack in April and he was concerned I wouldn’t survive the radical hysterectomy he wanted to perform. The cardiologist stood by her decision that it was only a strain on the heart and I passed the stress tests with flying colors.

Eventually, I was scheduled for surgery on December 18, 2014. I was to be the first surgery of the day. 

When I arrived at the hospital, the gyn/onc met me in the waiting room. Apparently, Oregon Health Plan was denying the surgery because they deemed it elective. He told me to stay in the waiting room, because his staff was working hard to get the surgery approved.

Finally, at noon, the gyn/onc came out to the waiting room to inform me that surgery had been approved - but to be done at Kaiser Permanente.

I said “I thought the purpose of surgery was to save my life - not kill me” 

Point taken.

He said “Stay here. We’ll see if we can get that changed to this hospital”

Two hours later, he appears again. Finally we were approved, but now I would have to be the last surgery of the day.  I recall getting a spinal block, and next thing I knew it was the next day. 

My official diagnosis:

- Endometrial adenocarcinoma, endometrioid type, FIGO grade 1. 

- Carcinoma measures 2.8 cm in greatest dimension, is limited to the endometrium and predominantly involves a necrotic polyp.

Another gyn/onc from the cancer center stopped in to visit me. She told me that my gyn/onc basically left for vacation after surgery. I spent a few days in the hospital mostly because I wanted to be sure I could care for myself when at home. The boyfriend was not much help. 

When it came time to have my staples removed, the nurse had to send someone else in the room. Turns out she has a hard time with any blood (Girl - you are in the wrong profession!) 

After having the staples removed, I was at home and needed to use the toilet. As I sat down, I heard and felt a rip. I placed my hand on my underbelly and felt blood.  I was not able to see specifically how bad it was.  It was after hours, so off to the emergency room I went.  

The emergency room staff didn’t quite know what to do with me.  They kept leaving me exposed to the rest of the emergency room. After several phone calls with the gyn/onc they determined the surgical opening was superficial. They wanted me to pack the wound (it wasnt very deep) and because of my size, they spliced together two medium sized abdominal binders to help hold me together while everything healed again. 

By the time I was healed, I received a letter in the mail. My gyn/onc was transferring to another clinic across town.  As I was having a hard enough time finding transportation to the current clinic, I opted to stay with the more local clinic. The other clinic, while still in the Portland Metro area, would add an additional 45 minutes one way to the commute. 

After that, I only saw a physician assistant.  Six months after surgery, I was released back to the care of my primary care provider. 

Until Next time…