$$$ Part Deux: This time a year ago, I was dealing not only with recovering from a recent surgery and wrapping my head around a scary new diagnosis but also with an elderly parent who was confused and frightened at my situation (and not making my life the slightest bit easier for me). Consequently, my memories of this time are a little sketchy, especially on the financial side (the bills were coming thick and furious). One event in particular did make a huge impression on me, however.

The financial office is just off to the side of the main desk at Willamette Valley Cancer Institute and its public "face" is best described as a cubicle with a glass front. My contact at the time was Kacey, a woman who is long gone from the center, but she was professional, friendly and very sympathetic (as so far, everyone in that office and indeed the center has been). Maybe a week before my first treatment, she called me at home and asked if I was available to come in to sign a couple of documents. As I learned short time later that when they ask if you can show up to sign a form, the process is held up until you acquiesce. So I made the trip into town to kneel before Zod put my John Hancock on a sheet of paper.

Kacey had me look over a couple of pages regarding the cost of chemotherapy for six months. On the last of the pages, there were three amounts for the total cost of the proposed care, one of which the office would determine would be my level of responsibility. She said, "Oh, you can safely ignore the first one", but she did mention that the second was a possibility (the third would be the ultimate amount that I would end up being responsible for). I can't say whether that first figure was a scare tactic, an inflated figure that's sent to an insurance company for those with platinum policies or a true cost of the total care during those six months. In any case, I was shocked beyond belief to see that amount on a paper that I had to sign:

$460,000.00 (roughly...it was a few grand more)

That exact figure gives you $38,333.33 per visit to the chemotherapy infusion room for 12 visits, including nursing costs, doctor visits and the actual infusion itself.

Think I got a few more gray hairs just typing out that last sentence.

Naturally, I had to sign this before they would consent to treat me, so I did. I'd like to think that it was the shakiest signature in the history of the center, too.

As I understand it, the center turns almost no one away from treatment; some sort of assistance is nearly always available (and no, I don't know the nature or origin of it...wish I did). I'm told that the few that don't qualify for assistance at WVCI are eligible for chemo at one of the area hospitals (Riverbend, certainly, and possibly the others). Again, I haven't the slightest clue whether that $460K figure is an actual or inflated cost, but saying that it shook me to see that I might be responsible for that amount...well, "understatement" doesn't quite cut it.

I don't really have a rationale for this post, just that it does seem more than a bit verboten to talk about such things. Thought that I'd bend that taboo a little, if not bust it entirely.

Not pleading for help from anyone (well, besides Dad, ha ha). Just kind of marveling at the insanity of it.