No chemo this week but another quarter heard from

I’m having a seven day break from chemo.  That means I go to all the other doctors, fight with the insurance company over medical bills and do all the things a massive dose of steroids give me the energy to do before I collapse and sleep for 14 to 20 hours.  Hey, it’s a system. 

Today’s doctor was my primary care physician.  Let’s revisit the steroid thing for just a moment.  The point of steroids is making sure I don’t become one of those emaciated people living with cancer.  I’m sure you have a picture or personal experience in mind.  Well, for me it works far, far too well.  I’m from hearty peasant stock and could survive the winter with a store of leaves and roots.  I’m hoping to be a case study in a journal article or maybe an experimental subject for a hibernation study.   The doctor was alarmed.  Curse you Little Debbies and Oreos.  I have loved you over well.
 
Tomorrow it’s a trip to visit the laundry ladies and a throw down with all those folks that continued to bill Humana after UofL (in its wisdom) dumped Humana and switched to UHC on January 1.  That’s a series of conversations that won’t end tomorrow or any time soon.  The pharmacy at the cancer center will also want to see me sometime this week to pick up more steroids and the more-precious-than-gold revlimid.  The pharmacist prefers I start those the weekend before the chemo resumes.  I have to take a quiz and fill out forms every time I go the oncology pharmacy.  The FDA is serious about tracking anything related to thalidomide and making sure you know the information included on the patient fact sheet.
 
There’s not a lot of other news between the mood swings and the napping.  Some very old but new to me White Wolf game books have come my way so those are now in my pile of books to read.  I can’t survive on steam punk novels and the writings of beloved queer radicals alone.