Thursday, Aug. 12, 2004
Dear Diary:

The red message light on the phone was flashing when I got home from the gym yesterday. There was a voicemail from the dermatologist that he had my biopsy results and I was to phone him today any time between 8 and 4.

I played the message three times trying to read what I could into his intonation, but it was flat, emotionless.

I tried to work, but my work demands focus and focus was one thing in short supply yesterday. I decided to go into town and run errands, pick up some groceries. Anything to get out of the house and be distracted from my thoughts.

When the spousal unit came home from work, he was surprised to see the counter heaped with groceries a day earlier than is my routine. I told him about the dermatologist's call. He said there were some chores around here he'd been putting off, he could take tomorrow morning off and be here while I made my call.

After all our years together he's found the perfect balance between acknowledging that yes, I am an independent woman who can take care of herself, but all the same that doesn't mean I couldn't use a shoulder to lean on from time to time. I am lucky to have him in my life.

I woke up this morning at 5:30, an ungodly hour I do not normally see and spent an hour marinating in my fears until the spousal unit's alarm went off and we slid into our morning breakfast routine. He brewed the tea and made his toast. I stirred my pot of oatmeal. As we ate, he read me bits of an article he's reading in the latest Harper's. We talked about a bit of this, a bit of that, everything but the biopsy results.

At exactly 8:05 I gathered a pad, a pen and phoned the dermatologist. In his dry, detached way he told me the biopsy shows skin cancer, but it's the mildest skin cancer. He outlined my options. The man has the bedside manner of an android, but he knows his stuff. I have an appointment on Monday in Montreal to be assessed by a surgeon.

The dermatologist said I will be operated on as quickly as possible. I'm not sure how long the lines are for skin cancer surgery, guess I'll find that out on Monday. He said that after the operation a technician will immediately study the skin to make sure that all the cancer has been removed. If it has not, they will operate again right away. The object is to take away the minimum of skin but to also get all the cancer.

That loud smooching sound you hear? That would be me kissing my Quebec Health Insurance Card.

Over and over and over again.

I am of the generation of Canadians who have experienced life both before and after universal health care.

When I was a child my mother committed suicide. She spent three days in intensive care before she died. Although my father had Blue Cross health insurance, because my mother's wounds were self-inflicted her medical bills were not covered.

Paying off the medical debt from my mother meant there was no money for extras for all the years I was growing up. None. If I wanted something, I had to work to have it. From my earliest teen years I babysat, did farm labour�everything from harvesting tomatoes to detasseling corn�and once I learned to type escaped into secretarial style work. My sisters and step-brothers also worked. They had to.

I know what a catastrophic health bill can do to a family, how close to the brink they can come. If my stepmother had not been such an extraordinary money manager, if she had not made many of our clothes, turned our backyard garden into a virtual food factory and canned and frozen all that produce ... I don't know how my family would have made it through.

I know that different countries have different systems. This is not a critique of anyone else's way of doing things.

All I want to say is that I am profoundly grateful that whatever else is to come, the fear of what a catastrophic illness can do financially is one fear my current family will never have to face.

Because even you know what? Facing even a mild form of skin cancer is enough of the scary for a sissypants crymonkey like me, thankyewverymuch.

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 624.55 miles. Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck. 25 per cent thereTen percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck..Ten percent there rubber duck.
Oh man. This is going to be hard
Goal for 2004: 1,000 miles - 1609 kilometers

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