Paper Dragons

The hits just keep on coming.
The results of the dreaded semi annual pet scan are in.
There is a new spot.  It's on my liver.
Oh God.
To me, this sort of sounds like end stage, figuring once it went to the liver it's game over.  You know, with my honorary PHD in oncology and extensive knowledge of her2neu metastasis.  Not exactly.
It does mean I go for a liver biopsy.  Tomorrow.  I'll spare the boring details of waiting for this procedure to be scheduled,  the shifting of every class, every appointment, every-thing so as not to have a conflict.  The nerves, the tears and the absolute terror.  I am not present even though I am here.  I am thinking, fuck, I have fucking cancer in my liver.  After all that!   It means more chemo.  Damn!
The biopsy scares me.  Have had 4 now, all pretty awful, the last one being the worst, a needle to the sternum with no anesthesia other than a painful shot of Novocaine, which hurt as much as the test.  Worst day ever.
But forget all of that.  It's all par for the course when you have cancer.  I was just feeling incredibly sad and alone, and I had no one to go with me to this awful thing.  I used to have someone in my life who really cared.  "He" left 2 months ago.  All my terror and sadness over this terrible news was completely transferred to "him"  I missed "him" if "he" were here I wouldn't feel so scared and alone.  I have people now who will go, and will actually advocate on my behalf should the need arise.  Thank you!
Then, something happened, forcing me out of the familiar black cloud of post break up agony.
I received a letter Friday.  Medicaid is cutting me off.
As of Oct. 1, 2011, no more insurance.  That was the last straw.  I cried, I raged, I totally flipped out.  I called the number but the connection was bad and I could barely hear the recording, something about office moved.  I called another number, on hold.  Late for work.  UHG!
They claimed not to have received some 12 page document I mailed over a week ago.  Some re-certification form that took 3 weeks to fill out which included stalking and tracking my doctor until he spent 20 precious minutes filling out this crap paperwork.  I had to wait until Monday to retort.  Here's how it rolls:
I go to the office, in Brooklyn.  Go to the 4th floor and find the medicaid place, it's a huge room with some 100 empty red chairs.  Cool, no line!  Security calls someone.  She comes out, walking in that slow, disaffected, bored and pissed off way.  She takes my paper and demands a social security number.  "don't say it, write it", she says.  I see a pen at her fingertips and ask to borrow it.  She looks at me for the first time and says, "what, you don't have a pen"?  I dug one out of my bag, because, yes, I do carry a pen, thank you, just thought that one would be easier. She prints something out.  It's a number.  I take it and sit in one of the chairs.  I look up at the board.  Mine is the next number to be served.  Hooray.  Another woman comes in, she gets her number and sits behind me, she's after me.  We sit like this for 30 minutes.  Bing, my number is called, yay!
The woman I see is so typically smart.  In the system, on top of it, wondering why the hell this happened.  She doesn't even get it.  Turns out I make $76 too much per month to qualify for medicaid.  I owe them $76.  No they can't take it now, I need to wait for the letter saying so.  I have to appeal the decision, in court.  No you can't get an appeal, only a request for an appeal.  Go downstairs.
I go.  There they are, all the people from the empty chairs.  The bottom of the "social" barrel.  The welfare people.  I get scanned, I get stopped.  Seems they thought my new Loreal lipstick and gloss in one was a flip blade knife.  (happens to me all the time).  I am told to go to the phone on the wall and dial 2. These phones are all attached to the wall, set closely next to each other with barely a divider, not unlike prison.  They're old and loaded with graffiti, penned on and scratched in.  The words of the prophets.  I put in my request.  I'll get a letter soon.  Then it could be 60 more days.  They cannot stop insurance when the appeal has been summoned.  Meanwhile, getting the paperwork together for yet another challenge with the dragon of useless hassle.  Hey, free medical.  I am willing.
Got one foot on the throat of this dragon and a sword on the cancer itself.  Must keep fighting, stay focused and be brave.   Rock on!