July 16, 1997
I am back from visiting my sister on her little out of the way island in the Puget Sound. I went kayaking, rock hunting, running, hiking and I even got hooked on a new hobby, clay painting. The time whipped by as it usually does on a vacation, and now I am back home smack dab in reality. I have been writing and rewriting children's stories, and I should have two of them ready to submit in the next month. I am finally feeling adept at writing and in swing with the publishing world. I am a bit on the determined side, like I am trying to beat the HD clock. I mean, how dare any trace of HD come back and set me back even one millisecond. I am on a roll with my life, so tick away HD, but not in my body!

Anyway, I do have a tiny medical dilemma, my port, I-WANT-IT-OUT! No it is not infected or painful! I-JUST-WANT-IT-OUT! I do not need it anymore and its removal puts a cap on my health, a symbolic one. The problem with having it out is not a medical one, it is a ridiculous insurance related one. Dr. Badger, who put in my port, was about to remove my port in his office under a local anesthetic, when he decided that he needed to remove it in a hospital or surgery center under a general anesthetic due to complications that could set in, but the insurance company decided that it could not allow Dr. Badger to remove my port for he does not belong to the insurance approved surgery center. On top of all that, when Dr. Cooney retired, the insurance company automatically reassigned me to one of their inept - so so - average brained doctors on their list of clones who would probably tell me that I do not even have a port and that I am just suffering from common Silicon Valley chest bump nerves. I refuse to have one of them as my doctor and I refuse to have one of them come anywhere near me with a port removal scalpel. Plus, when I try to call the insurance company to clear this up, I wait on hold for so long that their answering device times out and cuts off.

So I am spinning in the circle of insurance tape with my port still in my chest. This brings back memories of inept - so so - average brained doctors unable to diagnose my raging case of HD, and that makes me MAD! What I want is for Dr. Badger to remove my port, it is the least the insurance company could do for putting me in the hands of doctors whose care I almost died under. So tomorrow when I am supposed to getting my port out, I will be on the phone taking care of this mess. I really don't need to be mad about anything! I am in control!

July 20, 1997
I was ranting and raving on my last update, so I thought that I better turn myself around. Fast! Almost all of my insurance glitches have been worked out, and I should hear on Monday that I will be able to get my port out any day or at least any week soon.

I have an appointment with Dr. Hoppe on Tuesday for my 4 month follow-up, and I am a bit relieved that he does a routine chest Xray at every visit, for my lungs have definitely not been working up to par lately. My lungs feel heavy, not painful, but slightly sore. That is not exactly normal, and I do not know why I keep trying to be normal. I know that life is never going to be the same as it was pre-HD or before I turned 40, that is OK, but it does take a bit of getting used to. Think about it, turning 40, getting cancer, and a final slap of menopause to round out ones semi-mid-life crisis of sorts, and that is me. It really is OK! I don't have aids, I have all my limbs, and there is no reason that I shouldn't consider myself cured! I know I finished all my HD treatment months ago, and I really have been sliding it all behind me, but I don't ever want to forget the new perspective that cancer gave me. I don't mean to brag, but I really am pretty lucky.