Recoverable Memories (POW:ERA)

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"A good laugh and a long sleep are the best cures in the doctor's book."

Irish Proverb

Recoverable Memories (500 words)

Seventeen years ago this week heralded a new era. (It really began two years earlier when Mom and my sister-in-law's mother were dignosed with breast cancer.) With my diagnosis, my heart accelerated, my brain decelerated; I heard the venerable oncologist's utterance "... conquerable but it would be a horserace to see which killed me first: the cancer or the cure." Two years later my mother-in-law received hers. Let the veracity of my vociferance reverberate with you. Despite the funerals for that generation, I'm still here afterall.

The surgeon berated me for waiting so long, but I'm not exaggerating when I say the therapies deranged my mom and it seemed desperately preferable to die than vulnerably lose my mind. I am a veteran of the cancer war. Perseverance paid off, but several of my doctors didn't cooperate. My general physician even called for a midnight preoperative peptalk "In a preponderance of cases like yours, averages are against seeing your little boy grow up."

I went home to recuperate with protuberances draining fluids, an overabundance of geraniums, and a refrigerator full of donated casseroles. I soon got mouth ulcerations so could only tolerate beverages like gingerale. No habanera enchilades, roast beef with horseradish, nor pasta primavera - all overacidic.

The oncologist proved insufferable; unable to interact. He deliberately withheld side effect literature because "patients won't take the chemotherapy otherwise." When I reiterated the hospital next door wasn't coverable he promised it was causing considerable time fighting insurer and hospital over remuneration. I had an allergic reaction to blood transfusions causing temperature spikes. Then my intolerance for the liberal chemotherapy dosage sent him to counteract it with pharmocatherapy deliverable by injection. Insurance said the $10,000 per month wasn't coverable billed through the pharmacy so to his credit, he ran it through his bill. The conglomerate of surgeon, general physician and oncologist inconsiderately set up a second operation to remove the tumor in my underarm lymphnodes without telling me until two days prior. I made them reschedule since I needed time to rearrange several projects at work for a six weeks disappearance.

Literally the next day at work, an overaggressive radiation therapy resident called to impose his hierarchical view, "For the next three months I own you." Exasperated, I told him I would only be under his medical care. He got me back with an unerasable tattoo so he could incinerate any tumor bits and scheduled my first therapy for Christmas Eve. Where was he when the doors to the rad lab broke and I was incarcerated for an hour? I was an exonerated prisoner when they finally liberated me.

The therapies that worked best were self-hypnotherapy telling my immune system to obliterate bad guys, meditation to counteract nausea, literature therapy as my friend Colleen read books to me, listening to opera, the unadulterated exuberance of my hyperactive son, and the milkshakes made by my husband.

If you receive a diagnosis, it's imperative you make the doctors answerable to you Take control. Generate your health.

© Sue Barton 2008

This was written for the Play on Words Challenge. The word to be included this week (Week 11 - 2008) is "ERA" See playonwords.gather.com/ for further information. Join the group to join in the fun.

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