The Reason I Float

Back in September of 2010, I discovered a lump in my right breast. The AMA, all sorts of women's organizations and cancer prevention groups encourage us to perform monthly breast exams. I have been following that advice for some time. I discovered a lump and told my doctor at the Bland Medical Clinic.
She sent me to the Bluefield Memorial Hospital for a mammogram, and they recommended an ultrasound because of the lump they scanned. A few days later my doctor's nurse called and said everything was alright. I was very relieved.
For almost a month, I did not think about either the mammogram or the ultrasound, then my doctor called and asked if I had scheduled a biopsy. I asked why, and she told me that I should have received a letter telling me that the lump was suspicious, and not a call saying I was alright. Oops, mistakes happen, so I asked for help setting up an appointment with a local surgeon. She was happy to oblige.
Three weeks later, I arrived at that surgeon's office only to be told by a nurse that the doctor would not give me a biopsy as he did not treat transsexuals. I am used to this kind of prejudice, even from people who should know better. I called my doctor and her nurse said she would get back to me with another surgeon appointment. She did and I arrived at that doctor's office a month later only to be told by his office manager, not by a nurse or by the surgeon, that he would not treat a woman who had been given implants, nor  one exposed to DES in the womb. I questioned the manager until she admitted that the doctor did not like transsexuals and had refused to touch or even to talk to me.
It was now late November and I still had not had a biopsy, although one of the two surgeons tried to bill me for an office visit. My clinic doctor made an appointment for me at the University of Virginia Breast Cancer Center. I still had the lump, in fact I now had three lumps, two in my right breast and one in my armpit. I was very worried. I was to see a cancer specialist just before Christmas.
I had signed up for medical insurance four times with the Kmart employee insurance providers, Starbridge. Four times I had been refused, without ever being told why. I signed up again with the new provider available to us come January. As I had turned 62 on November 16th, I started looking into early retirement. For all I knew, there might not be a lot of life left to me by the time doctors decided I might need some care.
My friend and housemate, Lorrie took off work and drove me to my appointment. Two interns questioned and examined me, got me an x ray, and then called in the specialist. He examined me as well and then said there was no cancer, because it was more likely that I had a lymph node infection. I was given a prescription and sent home. OK, I wish they had taken a biopsy, but they should know what's what, so I would be happy.
I reported the results to my own doctor and she scheduled a followup at her clinic for three months later. I had discovered that if I waited until I was 66 to retire, I would receive only thirty more dollars per month over the amount I would get if I retired now. It would take more than 20 years then to receive the difference I would have received by retiring now. The new insurance company determined that it would not insure me either, so I announced my intention to retire on January 10th.
When I did not know whether or not I had cancer, I had begun building three canoes in my basement. I thought it would be a fine thing to be traveling on the New River if I had to die sometime soon. Now that I had been pronounced clean I still thought the trip would be fun. I said good-bye to my work friends and finished the boats.
On April Fool's Day, 2011, friends drove me to the river and I began my float journey. Two weeks later, my doctor called and told me that she was worried because no one had checked to see if I might have clear-cell cancers. I headed back to the clinic and reported to another doctor as mine was on vacation. He looked at a reddened, scaly, skin rash that had developed on my right breast and completely surrounded my nipple, probed the lumps that still remained under my arm and in my breast tissues, called in other doctors to consult and announced that I might have Piaget's Disease. He took a biopsy, put in stitches and told me to stay off of the river until the stitches came out.
I went home, looked up the disease on the Internet and experienced a sudden sadness. Piaget's is usually, but not always, associated with an underlying breast cancer. The cure rate for cancerous Piaget's is not high. Immediately, I thought, I had been misinformed and improperly cleared by the other doctors. It took me almost a week, to realize that it did not matter. I would continue floating no matter what. I would not let my life be saddened by the threat of dying. It has been a good life so far, and I have little reason to cry.
When I returned to have my stitches removed, the lab results had just been opened at the clinic. Again, I was declared clear of cancer. My Piaget's was not cancerous Piaget's. It could be treated by antibiotics and breast creams. Both were prescribed. 
So here I am, floating because I want to and not because I am dying. Cancer made me look into retiring and that was good.  I do not have cancer or at least I hope I don't have it, and that is better.