Loss of a Survivor

My mom lost a close, childhood friend the other day. This group of 12 women--who named themselves the "Sunshine Girls"--had been friends since high school. Some even from elementary school days.

They've supported one another throughout the years--hosting wedding and baby showers for daughters, celebrating birthdays and anniversaries, attending funerals of family members. They were there for each other through sickness, heartbreak and loss. They celebrated joys & triumphs.

Whenever they gathered, they rekindled their sense of humor and girlhood spirit. They vacationed at the beach each year, and took many roadtrips as well. There were always hints of wild times and scandalous conversations -- never to be shared with children and husbands. ("What goes on at the beach, stays at the beach.")

Their friendships spanned a longer period of time than husbands or children. Their bond was closer than family.

JoAnn Scott meant a lot to me, not only because she had been part of my life as a "Sunshine Girl" since I was a child, but also, as an adult, she was a breast cancer survivor who served as my advisor.

When I was first diagnosed eight years ago, she participated in a breast cancer walk in my honor. She reached out to my hurting and scared mother and gave her support. Fast-forward several years later, and JoAnn was on the scene again, advising me on surgery options for my mastectomies and reconstruction. She was honest, forthright and caring. She always had a smile and a laugh...a lighthearted spirit who loved life and people.

I mention this because I think of this culture in which we worship fame and celebrity, but have bought into a lie. Because it's the common, everyday people we know who make the most dramatic impact on our lives. JoAnn Scott was one of the people who made a difference for me.

The other thing that struck me about her death--besides being the first of the Sunshine Girls to die--is that she didn't die of breast cancer...but from a blood clot.

I think that, as cancer survivors, we get obsessed about dying of cancer. Although this is certainly a reality, we may not die of cancer at all--but from something entirely different. And all that worrying about cancer reoccurrence may be for naught. I might be hit by a bus instead.

All to say, JoAnn Scott played a huge role for me. I learned from her in life--all about breast cancer--and, I learned from her in death--that I can't obsess about cancer.

Therefore, I need to live as JoAnn lived -- with a bright, vibrant spirit that affected everyone she came into contact with. God bless her.

Crash Landing

I couldn't help but notice that after US Air 1549 recently crash-landed on the Hudson--and everyone on board survived--one passenger responded by praying and thanking God. Another passenger went to a hotel lobby and ordered a martini.

I can understand how they both felt. After getting news yesterday that my follow-up MRI was normal (i.e., no sign of cancer growing in my bone marrow!), I was torn between praise & thanksgiving...and heading to a bar. I did say a prayer of thanksgiving...and then took my dog for a walk.

Not since my first diagnosis of cancer--when everything was an unknown about my chances for survival--have I felt this close to death. When cancer hits the bone, that's bad news. I thought I had come through so much last year, with all the surgery and my close call in beating ovarian cancer. And, then, to find a mysterious mark on my leg in December--that's when I realized I could never fully escape cancer hovering over me. It's a fact of my life forever.

So many thoughts coursed through me during this month-long waiting period for the 2nd MRI to see if the area had changed, signifying if there was cancer. I thought about my short time on earth and how scary facing death is. I thought about how 50 years have flown by...and how I can never recapture the years I took for granted. I thought about how I wanted every day and every relationship to matter. I even found myself angry at people in my life who are acting petty right now. What a ridiculous waste of time.

Somehow, my latest potential bout with cancer has made me more serious about the time I have left. And although I escaped bad news this go-around, I know that as a human being, I will eventually face my end on earth.

But until then, I'm going to keep praying...and have a martini.

Cancer Doesn't Mean Carte Blanch

I'd like to take a moment and turn into your Sunday School teacher, since we all need a lecture now and then.

Picture me pointing my finger and raising my eyebrows--and my voice--and taking on an admonishing tone. Because this is what I'd like to say:

Although cancer can be cruel, heartbreaking and devastating, and can rip you apart physically, emotionally and spiritually...

And although cancer makes you face challenges you never envisioned, and can get the best of us when we're feeling weak and vulnerable...

And although the world may not be as caring and comforting as you need it to be at the time...

And although you have to endure many rough days, tough decisions, scary thoughts and lonely nights...

Cancer does not give any of us the right to act anyway we want to. In other words, it doesn't give us permission to be a jerk.

Now, I --above all people--have my moments. Trust me. I can be gnarly and irritated. Irrational and outspoken. Demanding and downright difficult. But, typically, I come around to realizing that I'm on the wrong side, and try to apologize and make amends for those times when I'm less than angelic.

But, I've also known people who are cancer survivors --or continue to battle cancer long-term--who seem to feel that having cancer somehow gives them carte blanch to treat everyone like dirt. And it doesn't.

Despite the rotten behavior you sometimes run into, I've found that most of the time, people go out of their way to show compassion and kindness to us who are suffering from cancer. As a matter of fact, I've experienced people going overboard to extend love and help.

At the same time, I also know people with cancer, who think they have an excuse to lash out at the world. To be intentionally hurtful and mean-spirited.

But they are confusing cancer with another disease entirely...one with a completely different cure.

Tattoos for Ta Ta's

January, 2009--As my body continues to heal, and I've decided to keep my breast size the same (although this could change)...what's next?

Tattooing! And you thought that was only for Gen-X'rs.

Among us girls with mastectomies, a tattoo is the finishing touch in giving us a realistic appearance. First, you have to let all the scarring heal (meaning, no red marks) before you can begin the tattoo process.

My initial research provided me with this tip: avoid the plastic surgeon's nurse and opt for a professional permanent makeup artist.

Why? Most likely, a nurse doesn't get the cosmetic training as a permanent makeup artist...so more often than not, you don't get the color you want. (Also, depending on your insurance plan, my doctor's office was twice as expensive.)

Of course, I'm fortunate because I know an excellent permanent makeup artist--which is not to be confused with a regular tattoo place, in which they use synthetic dyes. A permanent makeup artist typically uses natural dyes and applies the tattoo with their hand, rather than a machine, for a more authentic look.

In addition to cosmetic tattoos (such as eyebrows, eyeliner, lipstick and even blush), many permanent makeup artists specialize in medical tattooing as well -- it's worthwhile to find out if they do and see photos of their work.

I discovered Cheryl Rosenblum, owner of Permanent Makeup of Atlanta (www.permanentmakeupofatlanta.com) when I finished chemotherapy and my eyebrows didn't fully come back.

After spending several frustrating months applying makeup to my brow line, I heard about Cheryl and paid her a visit. She showed me a portfolio of her clients who needed all sorts of medical tattooing (mainly covering up scars and filling in bald spots).

She not only filled in my brows, but my eyeliner as well. It looks natural--which is good, since I've never cared to look like a clown. (The jury is still out, however, on whether I've actually been a clown or not.)

I talked about my next tattoos with Cheryl, who said she often has to redo breast tattoos from doctors' offices.

So, when my scars heal, I'll head to Cheryl, and share anything else I learn.

Christmas Present

It's Christmas Eve and I just received a wonderful and unexpected gift!

It didn't come wrapped underneath my tree, but rather, in a voice message.

Blue Cross Blue Shield of Georgia called and let me know they were, in fact, going to cover my bill for genetic testing IN FULL!

Thank you, Blue Cross Blue Shield!

Yes, Virginia, there are caring health insurers after all!

Resolution! (other than the New Year's kind)

It's almost Christmas and I've encountered an angel. It's true!

Myriad Labs resolved my bill--they adjusted my balance to zero! Zip! Nothing!

Dear Ms Auton,

Thank you for your assistance in the appeal process. However, Myriad will stand by the quote that Blue Cross Blue Shield of GA gave us prior to the test. In your case, they quoted 100% coverage. If they do in fact deny your appeal, please forward that denial to Myriad and your account will be adjusted to $0.

If you have further questions, please don't hesitate to ask.

Sincerely, Patient Accounts
Myriad Genetic Laboratories

It's time like these in which you want to reach through the phone and kiss somebody!

So, my advice for all you breast cancer survivors whom I've been encouraging to get genetic testing: Make sure you get IN WRITING your insurance company's commitment to pay 100% of the service rendered.

Get it documented. Save the documentation. Get it signed in blood...that's what it takes for insurance companies to honor their word these days.

I've been told that insurers bank on most of us not challenging and fighting their lack of coverage. They figure we're too overwhelmed with other things...like our health.

Although it takes precious moments out of your life, staying on top of insurance companies' payments is critical. I've already spent thousands of dollars out of pocket on cancer, when I could have been vacationing in Alcapulco.

I told Myriad that although they erased my bill, I would continue pursuing payment from BCBS. It's only right that I help. Therefore, BCBS has not heard the last from me.

My next step is taking this to our HR benefits person, since we just renewed our BCBS contract for 2009. What BCBS doesn't know is that my company has a personal interest in breast cancer, and BRCA testing--since we're mostly female employees and the majority of our customers are women, as well.

Just like John Paul Jones, I have just begun to fight!

Take That!

It's not even New Year's, and I've already broken one of my New Year's resolutions. (#3--Show grace and kindness to everyone.)

I was less than gracious to the insurance company's customer service reps, who put me on hold for infinity, and found myriad (as in Myriad Lab) excuses as to why they couldn't and wouldn't pay my bill in full.

My friend, Pam, told me (as I was venting during our walk) that I needed to add a disclaimer to my "be nice to the world" resolution--exempting anyone who is "petty/vile/self-centered/manipulative."

That category needs to be dealt with swiftly and forcefully, without a trace of charm and sweetness. No siree.

If I had only known about the "disclaimer rule," I could have kept all my previous resolutions in years' past.