Heart Failure

     It is a heady experience being told you are ideal and perfect.  As a candidate for proton beam therapy, that is.  I have to admit, it felt good to hear it.  There really isn't any other area of my life in which I ever feel ideal or perfect, so to have a medical professional tell me that in this one narrow area those adjectives applied to me was, well, some pretty strong stuff.  Got me all jazzed! Psyched!  Gung ho!  Whoo hoo!
     Until I was told Monday that I'm not ideal. 
     Well damn.  That's a reality check I wasn't expecting.
     During my CT and radiation simulation workup Monday (which, I'm just going to say, was difficult, to say the least), Dr. Ray Donc told me that the proton beam docs had determined that my "heart moves around too much" for them to deliver proton beam therapy safely.
     Say what?!?
     Doesn't everyone's heart move?  At least, those of us among the living?  It beats, it moves, right?  What's too much?  What does that even mean?
     Suffice to say I was not in a physical or emotional state of mind at that point (whilst attached to a metal tray by rigid form fitting mesh) to even frame those questions.  I was asked whether I wanted to then proceed with the simulation for IMRT.  I asked Dr. Ray Donc if he thought he could deliver that form of radiation safely.  Well, the simulation test info would provide him the information he needs to evaluate that.  So I agreed to finish the simulation, and I had hoped to hear from him by Friday. 
     I'll call Monday to see if there is any news. 
     If Dr. Ray Donc and his team don't think I am even a candidate for safe IMRT, then they will not proceed with an insurance appeal.  And if this whole panel of radiation doctors doesn't think they can do this without too high a risk of heart damage, well, I suppose I will not be going forward with radiation therapy in any form.
     Believe me, I think I have all the same questions that you might have at this point.  I just feel as if I failed a test that I didn't know I was going to have to take.  I thought the insurance was the only obstacle to the proton beam therapy--I didn't think my own heart would somehow be marching so much to the beat of it's own drummer (puntastic!) that I wouldn't make the cut.  No one prepared me for that possibility.  Did they even know it was a possibility?  I mean, just how much out of the norm can I be?  (HEY, don't answer that!)
     So it was a tough day for me emotionally.  By the time I had spent four hours there, much of it in a painful position, with disappointing news and a cherry-on-top surprise dropping of my drawers in front of an observation room full of doctors and technicians (a story for another time but at least I wasn't wearing my granny panties that day), I only wanted to get home and it was going to take me an hour to do it.  So no cannoli for me.  Had a pity party of one, went to bed early, and woke up trying to shake off the disappointment and just keep moving forward.  It was a hurdle.  And I tripped over it.  But I'm still running (okay, jogging...all right, walking at a brisk pace) down the track.