Time to Fight Cancer (and I'm gonna need some help)

Up until the other day, I couldn’t see how I was going to be okay with throwing my story out into the world, and asking the world to give me money for it. Then I remembered how much I do love a big adventure, so here we go.

This past March (a day, in fact, after I was released from the hospital, having had an appendectomy), my throat started hurting pretty badly, and it felt like I had a skewer through the back of my tongue. The really troublesome part, however, was that over the course of just a few days, I began suffering from dysphagia, which was accompanied by severe nausea and haematemesis. In English, that means I had difficulty swallowing, I couldn’t keep anything down, and I spat blood. I returned to the ER and, eventually, was able to get a CT scan, as well as a laryngoscopy. These tests revealed what is medically referred to as a “Malignant neoplasm of the base of the tongue.” It is essentially a cancerous tumor that develops on the back 1/3 of the tongue, where it meets the throat.

I immediately scheduled a visit with an Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist (ENT). After two days, however, everything got quite a bit worse, and I subsequently found myself back in the ER. They admitted me to ICU, where I stayed for almost five days. A word of note is important, here—I was not admitted to the ICU because I was about to flatline, I was admitted to the ICU because a doctor cared enough to put me there. As he explained it, the attention and thoroughness of the ICU is top of the line. I had a team of specialists interested in making me better. They got me eating again, keeping it down, and they stopped the nausea and the blood.

During my stay in the hospital, I had conversations with a dietician, a speech pathologist, an ENT doctor, an oncologist, a surgeon, and your standard medical doctor, for good measure. They were all amazing. They explained that it is within the realm of possibility that the mass in my throat could restrict me from eating again before we can wrap this thing up and zap it away. If that happens, they warned, it would most likely happen in a more profound way than I had previously experienced it. If I suddenly couldn’t eat or drink, I’d be in some pretty big trouble. With their knowledge and guidance, I did the smart thing: underwent surgery for the installation of a “peg tube,” or feeding tube. Now, a tube comes right out of my belly—a tube to be used to get nutrients into my body, should it come to that. Best case scenario, though, is that I never need to use it and they just eventually remove it and it heals over quite nicely, I’m reassured. It is a preventative measure so that things don’t get needlessly worse.

A few days after my discharge from the hospital, I had a needle biopsy. The results confirmed that I have squamous cell carcinoma in my neck and at the base of my tongue.

Switching gears, now. I have been unemployed since March. Jobs tend to prefer one showing up for work, not lying around in bed and gown. Those really keen readers will have already guessed that I have no insurance. Extra points. My ENT (who is my guide through all of this) has helped me apply for financial/medical assistance. It’s not that much of an assist, and it’s gonna take a minute. Even so, this shit is expensive if you’re paying out-of-pocket. I’m sure you’ve heard.

I’m doing what I can do with what is available to me, but it turns out that these places that are not the ER tend to collect their money before they give you access to the doctor. Tricky dogs. So, if I can’t pay, I don’t get treatment.

My ENT doctor is hopeful and keeps me positive. My goal is to not miss a single appointment. As such, I’m selling my automobile, filling out online forms for assistance (Project Access), mailing out applications for assistance (Ballad Health financial aid), and I’m doing lots of homework. I do hope there is still enough health and human services funding to make a dent in the cost of treatment, but I digress.

I’ve done some research on procedure prices, but the price ranges for the out-of-pocketer are quite wide. Couple that with the fact that my 5-step plan that the good doc gave me could change to a 6,7, or 8-step plan at any turn, and I really can’t fathom a guess at where the money wheel will stop. What I am trying to do with this GoFundMe is help me get me through the next six weeks of the sticking, probing, and zapping.

That’s the basic sitch. If anyone has any questions and/or advice, or whatever, I’ll be more than happy to talk to you, privately. Thanks for listening! --Greg