Week 2: The Runaround

Longest run: 4.3 miles, time: 49 mins. Direct sun, no water, 82 degrees and humidity. Had to walk for a few minutes from overheating. Ugh.

Why do the most obvious needs seem so hard to come by? As I mentioned in my last post, I've had an aching hip, now for 2 weeks. Unfortunately my primary care doc picked up and moved to Florida without notice and without the least concern of where her patients would go. So I found myself looking for a new doctor, looking on the web, calling my insurance company for advice, etc. Turns out the insurance co's listings are WAY out of date. The advisor I spoke to on the phone gave me 2 numbers: one that doctor in question hadn't been working at for over 2 years and the other didn't take appointments, only walk-ins (which just seemed shady to me). Finally, my dear allergist, whose receptionists always smile and know my name -- I wish ALL doctors offices could be like this -- gave me the name of one office they work with, and it turned out great. He saw me quickly and gave me some advice. Now I wish it had been that, er-hem, easy (as if 10 phone calls weren't effort enough), I also made an appointment at a chiropractor that swore "yes, we DO take your insurance," until I showed up and they said, we surely will take your insurance once you cover the $500 deductible. That is not as being in network. I was mislead when I made the appointment, and after a brief conversation with my insurance company (AGAIN) I walked out the door with no appointment and fortunately without having to pay anything.

Which brings me to my second point, when someone is in distress, or doesn't feel well, or is just overwhelmed, that's when the people we PAY to take care of us (and insurance ain't cheap) should actually step up and take care of us. Week 2 after her mastectomy, my mom had not heard back from the nurse or counselor who swore they'd support her and keep her informed. She called several different numbers, each one sending her to the next, left countless voicemails pleading for support, information, emotional support, next steps, how long would she actually have to plan on being out of work, and days later, someone finally got back to her. When you're in pain, weak, grieving, scared, it is unjust and cruel for others to make you wait and work for getting answers. These are specialists, and as such, they should know and be aware of what patients are going through. The nurses were profusely apologetic, but the damage was done. She'd already gone through the hell, how were they to make up for that? Now she's in the system and has been able to talk to the right people, thank goodness. So we're both back on track, after a long and complex little goose chase to health. Now, back to chasing my goal.

Week 1: The good and the bad

Progress: Long run 4.25 miles, Pace 10:31 min/mile, 44:43 minutes

The good: Week 1 was not so bad. I already have been working hard the last 6 weeks to get in general shape, mixing boxing boot camp, short runs, and a few personal training sessions (my personal trainer and I did NOT click at all, and was actually kind of mean to me, but that's another story). Anyway, this week I knew had to start working on distance, and I'm proud to say I ran longer (more than 4 miles) than I have in about 6 years- back when I used to run 10k races. I'll have to check my records, but I think I may even be beating my old pace. I'm not a fast runner, never have been, but as long as I can keep up a jog and be able to hold a short conversation, I'm feeling like I'm doing well.

The bad: about a month ago after a shorter run, my hip started hurting, and was sore for about 5 days. Last week, it came back, and I feel some pain radiating down my hamstring. Since my old doctor picked up and moved to Florida, I have to find a new one, which is no easy task in New York City. I called my insurance company for recommendations and they referred me to a doctor that hadn't been at that practice for over 2 years! Useless. I did manage to find a brand new doctor and have an appointment this week. Wish me luck.

The really really good: "A very promising prognosis." Mom's lymph node biopsy came back CLEAN! We are so grateful that the cancer scare may end at the demise of her poor mammaries. They made the noble sacrifice to spare the rest of her.

I'd call that a good-news sandwich, and we'll just forget about the bothersome hip. Sweep that one under the rug for the moment.

Remembering Mike

Two years ago today, June 14, 2010, Uncle Mike finally and suddenly succumbed to brain cancer. He had been fighting for a few years, but there just came the point when his body couldn't handle it anymore. I remember going to his Southern California home a year or two before that with my mom and picking oranges and grapefruits from the trees that speckled his yard. He called us in to listen to a voice message from his doctors: The tumor had stopped growing. It seemed miraculous, all the fighting, the treatments and surgeries were paying off. In that moment, my uncle's eyes sparkled with a contagious joy that can only come from from allowing yourself to hope. We laughed and hugged one another. Those were the sweetest oranges I'd ever had.

I know today, as every day, Mike's daughters and son, grandkids, and extended family miss him dearly. Mike reminds us to be strong, to never give up, and more importantly, no matter how bad it gets, you have to keep a sense of humor.

Late last month

No one said life is fair. But we can find balance. At 59 years, my mom has had more than her share of health scares, but she's come through each and every one of them like a champ. Late in May 2012, my mom went in for a routine mammogram. They saw something they didn't like. A few days later she went in for a biopsy, and 16 days later she had a complete mastectomy of her right breast. They moved fast because the tumor was the aggressive sort. So her doctors were even more aggressive. And they saved my mom's life.

Jean is a champion. Right now she's at home recovering, far away in Colorado, and surrounded by her partner, Lisa, my grandmother, and friends and family. She is loved and cared for, and that will get her through.

Throughout this whole process I've felt powerless, confused, worried, and that's me: 2,000 miles away. How must it be for her? Right there, inside, at point blank. All I can do from here is talk to her, text, email, and stay positive, but we're still waiting on results from the lymph node biopsy and finding out about next steps. Most likely, they say, she will not need chemo or radiation. But for now there is the pain, nausea, and low blood pressure. So I go to the gym, and I punch a punching bag. I'm boxing her cancer and the nerve endings that are regenerating and telling her where it hurts to remind her of what's missing.

I hate that cancer, and I hate that she has to go through this -- again. It's not fair. So I decided, if it can't be fair, I'm going to create some balance. If my mom can get through a mastectomy, I can run. I'm going to train for and run a half marathon - for her, for her health, for her smile, every step I take is for everything she's ever done for me. And even then it wouldn't be enough to count all the ways she's made me who I am. If my mom can kick breast cancer, I'm going to kick my own ass. Cancer, you better start running, because I'm closing in.