This was supposed to be my third post (still in my slow catch-up), right after the one about the side effects.
Very early, when I started sharing my diagnosis with a few of my closest people, I noticed a sharp difference between my calm demeanour (which is actually uncharacteristic of me, since I can be very emotional) and the concern and shock of most I told about the cancer.
Of course, I had been through the tests and consultations for weeks, which had probably helped me get used to the possibility of having cancer. But I also think that years of studying and teaching women's health have given me a particular idea about breast cancer. I knew the statistics were in my favour. For all the abysmal lack of knowledge about women's health, breast cancer is one of the few areas where there is actually a wealth of knowledge. Even if my conspiratorial side does think that it is because it's profitable for the pharmaceutical industry in this treatment paradigm.
This is not a complaint. It's an observation. This paradigm will treat me and cure me.
Additionally, I live in a country where the health system is universally available, for free. I had to pay a nominal fee in the first few consultations and tests. These are called deductibles (egenandel). If I couldn't afford it, I could be exempt. After a certain sum (a little over 3000 kr), the state covers everything.
The cancer-related medicines were free from the start. Even before I had reached the limit of the egenandel. Now that I have reached it (there were a lot of consultations and tests), every future appointment will be free, even if unrelated to the cancer. For the rest of the year.
The free health care is also generous. For example, Phesgo, which attacks this specific cancer, is an expensive medicine. For this reason, not all universal health care systems offer it, even when free. The Norwegian is one of the few that does. Elsewhere, I would have to pay dearly to include it.
This is why I keep saying: if one is going to have cancer, there is no better place to have it than here.
But even in countries with fewer resources, systems manage to treat, and people survive breast cancer. The health outcome for this cancer is largely dependent on social and economic factors. As is the type of treatment one gets. Biology usually comes in if the cancer is not detected in time or if it has spread. Then treatment has less impact on the cure; life-extending and palliative care are the logical approaches. But early detection is usually also determined by social and economic factors. Including which health system the woman has access to.
Then comes the fact that while I am fighting this disease, and if unable to work, the state WILL continue to support me. So, I don't have any financial concerns. This was one of my mother's concerns. She wanted to know if I had enough savings to support myself while in treatment. My answer: "I am so happy that I do not live in the US. At least I will not go bankrupt because of an illness."
But even if I lived in Mozambique, my health insurance would likely only cover part of the treatment. I would likely have to cover the rest. The paycheck would be covered by Social Security there, too. A privilege only for those with a job, unfortunately.
But most of all, being a cancer patient gives a special status in the Norwegian health system. I (along with otherfellow cancer patients) have priority treatment. This means that I/we jump ahead of any queue. I can request treatment for anything, even unrelated to cancer, without going through my GP or the Emergency Services (legevakt), which are the two access points.
The UK doctor who saw me for the prep appointment told me that his advice to his (female) patients was for them to channel their inner Beyoncé.
I take it to mean to bring my inner diva. He stressed: "You can reach us at any time. Sometimes the nurses may be busy and sound dismissive. Don't just take it. Ask for things to be done the way you want."
This is the biggest silver lining of all. But I have to learn how to be a diva, without overdoing it. 😀
So far, most nurses haven't been too dismissive. They have been patient, heard me out, called me back (except one single time - details to be shared on another post), and when they thought I felt anxious, they offered me a solution and told me why they didn't think I should go to the hospital, but would always ask if I agreed with them. If I didn't, they would have done whatever I requested...
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