cancer - Page 4

Underinsured, Underdiagnosed and Anonymous: My Hormonal Hardships, Part 4

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My husband and I were suspended in a state of utter shock and disbelief, as the GI/endoscopy center rushed us referrals for a variety of different radiology and imaging services.  We were feeling overwhelmed and under pressure, but had precious little time to openly react or otherwise respond to my diagnosis.  Right now, we had to have my cancer staged and graded sooner than seemed humanly possible.  I drank barium contrast and fasted for digestive system x-rays, I went on a clear liquid diet and temporarily stopped my meds for full-body PET scans, I repeated barium prep for CT scans, and fasted again for MRIs.  My diet consisted mostly of chalky colon cleansers, plain water, 7-Up, chicken broth, boiled ham, and scrambled eggs during this time, which trifling as it sounds made me crave a juicy steak and pulpy fruit juice like nothing else.  By the end of the month, I was allowed to give into my cravings for a night—a bittersweet reward at best—while we waited in high anxiety for my pending results to come in.

I had a greying, high-grade, stage II-B neoplasm, with partial bowel obstruction, which had enlarged to about three centimeters in size.  The tumor had grown through the wall of my colon, but had not yet metastasized to my lymph nodes, bone marrow, or other organs.  I did not yet have necrosis or jaundice either, but compromised liver function and tissue death were both very real concerns for me now.  The fast-growing lump had apparently started out as a benign polyp, but had turned malignant having gone undiagnosed and untreated.  I was relatively young, I’d never smoked, I didn’t drink or do drugs, and I wasn’t promiscuous, so nobody could easily explain how or why this was happening to me (as if those were the only reasons that something like this could happen to anyone).  Likewise, no one could tell me how the polyp could have been missed, or why I was denied the medical attention that I had actively and continuously sought, which could have prevented my case of cancer altogether.  I did finally and inexplicably get to stay off birth control pills this time though—and, coincidentally, my tumor never increased in size after I discontinued the use of oral contraceptives, hmmm…

The diagnostics and staging completed, we were then referred to a local oncologist, radiologist, surgeon, and hematologist for consultation, healthcare review, and treatment selection.  The oncology specialist wanted to do an immediate total colectomy with long-term, post-surgery, high-dose chemotherapy port, and a permanent colostomy bag.  The radiation specialist wanted to start with daily, low-dose, external beam radiation, personalized intensity modulation radiation therapy, and low-dose oral chemo, for six months.  The surgical oncologist did not recommend surgery for temporary or permanent bowel resection or any surgical procedures for chemo pump placement—in fact, they suggested radiation with or without chemo.  The hematology lab would be doing my tumor marker and blood panels one to three times per week as needed throughout my treatment, whichever option we chose.  And, me–I wanted biological treatment, but it wasn’t covered by insurance, so I reluctantly had to settle for beam radiation and oral chemo in lieu of extreme abdominal resection surgery, since I wasn’t rich.

Next, everybody gave us the obligatory best-case/worst-case scenarios, after which I was scheduled for my radiation tattoos, body molds, and chemo instruction in preparation for my first treatments and corresponding blood monitoring tests.  Having turned down radical surgery and the chemo port (per the surgeon specialist’s advice), my oncologist was suddenly and inconveniently unavailable to see me now.  So, my radiologist had to reach the oncology nurse to confirm arrangements for my ongoing blood work and prescription refills, since her boss was neglecting to do so on a regular basis.  The oncology nurse also secretly stepped in and reduced my chemo pill dosage by half without telling the oncologist (she told me not to tell him about it either), because as she said—off the record—he had prescribed me a dangerously high amount, comparable to that given to a terminal prostate cancer patient.  I had to quit the job I loved, my husband had to stay at the one he hated, and I had to take incompletes and signup for medical leave at school…where only last year I had been hopeful, I was once again despondent.

Just one month into chemo-radiation, I quit menstruating, and was no longer able to be intimate with my husband (my still fairly new husband) for the duration of my treatment (my fairly long treatment).  I lost all of my lower body hair from the bellybutton down, and went through major skin tone and skin color changes, along with startling food taste changes, and contemptible chemo fog.  It had become a challenge for me just to get off the couch to catch a ride to the doctor’s, so much so that my time was predominantly spent asleep, in treatment, or in diagnostics, by this point.  And, when it didn’t feel like things could get any worst, my husband’s company announced their looming bankruptcy and liquidation.  That’s when the rejection letters for my previously pre-approved (and thus documented) life-saving medical procedures began to arrive from the insurance company.  It’s also when we found out that because my husband’s employer was liquidating, not restructuring, that we would only qualify for one month, not one year, of COBRA benefits, and that the one month of COBRA coverage we were eligible for would cost us $1,300 even in light of the hundreds of thousands of dollars (literally $300,000+ in just one month of the bankruptcy/liquidation notice) in bills which had abruptly begun to flood our mailbox…

To read the final segment, click here.

Underinsured, Underdiagnosed and Anonymous: My Hormonal Hardships, Part 5

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My radiologist had actually become my primary doctor, as the oncologist remained largely unavailable to me, especially so after hearing the news that my health insurance would lapse within the coming months.  The oncologist increased my dosage of radiation, and rescheduled my GI, endoscopy, and radiology follow-up exams to earlier dates.  The radiation office not only waived a significant portion of their own service fees for me due to the situation, but also helped us to handle a big part of the lengthy medical dispute we were facing with our insurance company.  They eradicated most of the tumor, but could not remove my residual scar tissue, before our COBRA expired.  Even with all that they had done for us up until then, there were still strict systematic limits as to what they were permitted to do for us after that time.  Not only was I without insurance yet again (my husband was too), but I was also now without the support system that had been my radiologist and their crew—something that was much much harder to overcome than I had expected it to be.

I was in remission, but back to square one as far as access to medical coverage went.  I was in remission, but I had undergone medically-induced premature ovarian failure, and was deemed post-menopausal before I would even reach my thirties.  I was in remission, but couldn’t take hormone replacement therapy or herbal alternatives, because I was already at increased risk for recurring and/or second cancers.  I was in remission, but had semi-permanent radiation scars and temporary post-chemotherapy cognitive impairment.  I was in remission, but I still wasn’t well enough to return to work, go to school full-time, or to take a belated and long overdue honeymoon yet.  I was in remission, but I was depressed, and didn’t know how to move forward without the regular group of doctors and nurses who had been there for me emotionally only a week before.

Why was my life saved (and through such extreme measures), only to be put right back at risk, through the ever-incipient denial of insurance, medical assistance, and access to healthcare?  What was the point of it all??  It felt like maybe I shouldn’t have been striving so hard to live, but instead perhaps that I should simply have accepted the inevitability of my own death (something I am now faced with every day that I do wake up in the morning, anyways).  My husband had only been able to find part-time jobs, since his old workplace had closed.  So, we knew that we would have to move out-of-state to get the help that we needed.  We just hadn’t anticipated that it would be even harder to get coverage, aid, or access, once we left.  And, we still don’t know how much harder it will get, as we continue to race border-state budget cuts and residency requirements, just trying to keep me alive.  Sometimes, it’s hard not to doubt that we’ll make it in time at all.

I have always worked hard, and I’ve always tried to give back to the community.  I was glad to pay my dues, and happy to put in my time.  So, I have an exceptionally hard time understanding how so many have come to turn their backs on me as I ask them to help keep me from dying, if not from hurting, particularly when that’s supposed to be their job.  How come I’m not worth your time and attention?  Why don’t I deserve to live?  What’s so wrong with me, that you can’t even tell me what’s wrong with me?

I wish that I could leave you with a happier ending, but this never-ending vicious cycle has not left us with much optimism, hope, or spare change, ourselves.  Aside from knowing that my tumor is back, we don’t know just how bad it is.  What we are gravely aware of is that I am out of the safety net and into the danger zone for lymph and bone involvement plus metastatic cancer growth.  It’s proven impossible to get a standard colonoscopy and biopsy at my age (twenty-plus years too young) without a doctor’s order, and impossible to get a doctor’s order without insurance or assistance (but, you’ve already heard that story before).  …all this, even in spite of my personal history of colon cancer…  And, it will be equally impossible to get any traditional treatment if/when the cancer spreads to my liver or lungs, too.  But, at least nobody will be talking about colostomy bags then, anymore.  When we do find the rare body scanning clinic that will take cash patients on self-referral, they all also inevitable deny me the less-invasive virtual colonoscopy because I’m “still in my childbearing years” even though I’m medically documented as being POF, and haven’t had a period in over six years now.  You’d think it would be a non-issue, but for some reason it isn’t.  Maybe someone out there can understand our fear and despair, but a lot of other people just don’t seem to care.

I wrote my story anonymously because I fear the social repercussions and potential backlash of publicly revealing my real name in association with my disease and disorders.  I am uninsured and told by many, uninsurable.

Underinsured, Underdiagnosed, and Anonymous: Endometriosis Part 3

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I am continuing to write this anonymously because I continue to fear the social repercussions and potential backlash of publicly revealing my real name in association with my endometriosis and other health conditions. I am uninsured and told by many, uninsurable.

Marriage and Endometriosis

We eloped without much fanfare at the Office of Civil Marriages in the spring, and over-nighted a certified copy of our marriage certificate to my newly-wed husband’s H.R. Department ASAP. A month later, we received our new medical cards, and my husband’s primary physician gave me referrals to a network-approved gynecology specialist and internist. The gynecologist ordered another abdominal ultrasound, blood draw, urine sample, and Pap smear to check for viral, bacterial, and/or urinary tract infections, as well as to rule out other possible conditions like kidney stones or gallstones. The internal medicine specialist referred me to a gastroenterology-endoscopy doctor to get my spleen, colon, appendix, and liver more thoroughly checked out. I also remember asking both of them about going off the pill back then, but each one had advised me to stay on it, at least, until my initial lab results were in. It was definitely no honeymoon as the poking and prodding officially commenced once more.

The Pain of Endometriosis

My upper-left abdomen was tender to the touch below my ribcage, and my lower-left abdominal pain had grown much more intense, now radiating from my stomach to my backside in sharp, rapid, debilitating jabs. It felt like my organs had dropped, and my insides were trying to force their way out of me. It stung to urinate, hurt to have a bowel movement, my urine was very cloudy, and there was a lot of (too much) blood in my stool. The burning sensation in my bladder and the rigidness of my muscles were limiting my mobility, aggravated lower quadrant soreness and spasms were impairing my sleep, and a new found fear of vomiting or otherwise using the restroom was inhibiting my appetite. I was faint, weary, and weak from excess blood loss, malnutrition, insomnia, distress, and delayed treatment. And, I was just about to begin another taxing hodgepodge of could-be prognoses throughout a long (almost too long) diagnostic process of elimination.

The gyno’ reported that I had crystals but no stones in my urine, and prescribed me antibiotics for a bladder infection (one problem down, many more to go). The ultrasound image still showed a small mass and fibrous tissue, but they did not appear to be ovarian or polycystic in nature. Likewise, although my iron levels were down, my lab panel showed no sign of kidney or gallbladder abnormality or dysfunction. And, there did not seem to be any cervical or vaginal lesions, viral or bacterial. They said that a small uterus might explain my short, light, and irregular periods during adolescence (previously a non-issue to me), as well as an increased susceptibility to endometriosis, and a decreased success rate for surgical assessment or treatment thereof. So, laparoscopy was ruled out as a viable diagnostic test or care option for endo’ altogether, rendering my prior endometrial diagnosis unconfirmed (but still, ironically considered a pre-existing condition), and my current status was again in question. It was, however, recommended that I ask the gastroenterologist/endoscopy specialist about the possibility of any additional bowel, thyroid, and/or pancreatic involvement, though.

More Doctors

By the first time that I saw the GI/endoscopy doctor who the internist had referred me to, a few weeks later, my bladder infection had cleared up and my urine was back to normal. But, I was now passing mucus, tissue, and blood clumps, without bowel movements, in addition to suffering from constant rectal bleeding (without any bowel activity). I could now also feel a throbbing lump bulging against my insides from somewhere near my perineal area, making it extremely difficult for me to sit down (when it had already become problematic for me to lay down on my stomach or even to lie on my back). The gastro-endoscopy physician told me that I had injured my spleen in the slip-and-fall accident, and that it would probably take another month or so for it to fully heal on its own, thus explaining the tenderness that I had felt under my ribs. The doctor also suspected that I had colitis (inflammation of the large intestines) with internal prolapsed piles, and wrote me a prescription for sulfa antibiotics, hydrocodone painkillers, and corticosteroids, for at-home treatment. The second course of antibiotics made me feel a little bit better, and the painkillers helped me to sleep some, but the corticosteroids made the small lump inside me swell into a larger bump ready to burst through my very skin. No, I didn’t have piles or colitis, either.

Five weeks and a bunch of different tests later, I also didn’t have appendicitis, pancreatitis, and hepatitis, cirrhosis of the liver, thyroid disease, or diabetes, among other things. I still didn’t have gallstones or kidney stones (they double-checked), but I was still on oral contraceptives (and hating it) as continued to be advised for no given reason. I had been married for four months; the summer was half-over and we were spending hundreds of dollars per month in medical premium deductions, on top of hundreds more in mounting insurance co-pays, and other related expenses to no avail (needless to say, our savings and hopes were dwindling quickly). They didn’t want to do a colonoscopy on me because I was way under the age of fifty, had no recorded family history of colon polyps, colonic ulcers, diverticulosis, or diverticulitis, and nobody really expected to find anything anyways. But, they too had run out of other tests to perform, even though I wasn’t getting any better under their watch. A preliminary colonoscopy and biopsy, a repeat procedure, and multiple follow-up biopsies, however, ‘finally’ and shockingly confirmed that I had an adenocarcinoma tumor in my colon. I had colon cancer? …I had colon cancer…

To Be Continued

Underinsured, Underdiagnosed, and Anonymous: Endometriosis and Cancer Part 4

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I just learned, after years of endometriosis pain and misdiagnoses, I had cancer.

My husband and I were suspended in a state of utter shock and disbelief, as the GI/endoscopy center rushed us referrals for a variety of different radiology and imaging services. We were feeling overwhelmed and under pressure, but had precious little time to openly react or otherwise respond to my diagnosis. Right now, we had to have my cancer staged and graded sooner than seemed humanly possible. I drank barium contrast and fasted for digestive system x-rays, I went on a clear liquid diet and temporarily stopped my meds for full-body PET scans, I repeated barium prep for CT scans, and fasted again for MRIs. My diet consisted mostly of chalky colon cleansers, plain water, 7-Up, chicken broth, boiled ham, and scrambled eggs. As trifling as it sounds, this made me crave a juicy steak and pulpy fruit juice like nothing else. By the end of the month, I was allowed to give into my cravings for a night—a bittersweet reward at best—while we waited in high anxiety for my pending results to come in.

My Cancer Diagnosis

I had a greying, high-grade, stage II-B neoplasm, with partial bowel obstruction, which had enlarged to about three centimeters in size. The tumor had grown through the wall of my colon, but had not yet metastasized to my lymph nodes, bone marrow, or other organs. I did not yet have necrosis or jaundice either, but compromised liver function and tissue death were both very real concerns for me now. The fast-growing lump had apparently started out as a benign polyp, but had turned malignant having gone undiagnosed and untreated.

I was young, I’d never smoked, I didn’t drink or do drugs, and I wasn’t promiscuous, so nobody could easily explain how or why this was happening to me (as if those were the only reasons that something like this could happen to anyone). Likewise, no one could tell me how the polyp could have been missed, or why I was denied the medical attention that I had actively and continuously sought– for years, which could have prevented my case of cancer altogether. I did finally and inexplicably get to stay off birth control pills this time though—and, coincidentally, my tumor never increased in size after I discontinued the use of oral contraceptives, hmmm…

Navigating Cancer without Insurance

The diagnostics and staging completed, we were then referred to a local oncologist, radiologist, surgeon, and hematologist for consultation, healthcare review, and treatment selection. The oncology specialist wanted to do an immediate total colectomy with long-term, post-surgery, high-dose chemotherapy port, and a permanent colostomy bag. The radiation specialist wanted to start with daily, low-dose, external beam radiation, personalized intensity modulation radiation therapy, and low-dose oral chemo, for six months. The surgical oncologist did not recommend surgery for temporary or permanent bowel resection or any surgical procedures for chemo pump placement—in fact, they suggested radiation with or without chemo. The hematology lab would be doing my tumor marker and blood panels one to three times per week as needed throughout my treatment, whichever option we chose. And, me–I wanted biological treatment, but it wasn’t covered by insurance, so I reluctantly had to settle for beam radiation and oral chemo in lieu of extreme abdominal resection surgery, since I wasn’t rich.

Next, everybody gave us the obligatory best-case/worst-case scenarios, after which I was scheduled for my radiation tattoos, body molds, and chemo instruction in preparation for my first treatments and corresponding blood monitoring tests. Having turned down radical surgery and the chemo port (per the surgeon specialist’s advice), my oncologist was suddenly and inconveniently unavailable to see me now. So, my radiologist had to reach the oncology nurse to confirm arrangements for my ongoing blood work and prescription refills, since her boss was neglecting to do so on a regular basis. The oncology nurse also secretly stepped in and reduced my chemo pill dosage by half without telling the oncologist (she told me not to tell him about it either), because as she said—off the record—he had prescribed me a dangerously high amount, comparable to that given to a terminal prostate cancer patient. I had to quit the job I loved, my husband had to stay at the one he hated, and I had to take incompletes and signup for medical leave at school…where only last year I had been hopeful, I was once again despondent.

Just one month into chemo-radiation, I quit menstruating, and was no longer able to be intimate with my husband (my still fairly new husband) for the duration of my treatment (my fairly long treatment). I lost all of my lower body hair from the bellybutton down, and went through major skin tone and skin color changes, along with startling food taste changes, and contemptible chemo fog. It had become a challenge for me just to get off the couch to catch a ride to the doctor’s, so much so that my time was predominantly spent asleep, in treatment, or in diagnostics, by this point.

And, when it didn’t feel like things could get any worse, my husband’s company announced their looming bankruptcy and liquidation. That’s when the rejection letters for my previously pre-approved (and thusly documented) life-saving medical procedures began to arrive from the insurance company. It’s also when we found out that because my husband’s employer was liquidating, not restructuring, that we would only qualify for one month, not one year, of COBRA benefits, and that the one month of COBRA coverage we were eligible for would cost us $1,300 even in light of the hundreds of thousands of dollars (literally $300,000+ in just one month of the bankruptcy/liquidation notice) in bills which had abruptly begun to flood our mailbox.

To Be Continued.

Read earlier parts of the story. Part1, Part2, Part3.

Are We Marks? The Greed and Chicanery of 21st Century Corporate Culture

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Corporate Culture has Run Afoul

By now everyone is aware of Bank of America’s latest in a long stream of fee gouging practices- the $5 debit card fee. This is on top of an endless array transaction fees charged to customers that generate billions in profits annually, and of course, the billions from the bailouts and the foreclosure crisis. Although blatantly evident on Wall Street, the shift in corporate ideology that rewards chicanery pervades every aspect of American life, especially healthcare and most especially women’s and children’s healthcare.

We’re at a place in time where corporations would rather spend billions lobbying favorable regulations and billions more fighting and paying out consumer or patient lawsuits for faulty products than build a quality product or provide a quality service in the first place. How else does one explain the medical marketing of dangerous drugs to otherwise healthy women– think HRT, Yaz and Yasmin, Prozac, Wellbutrin and other anti-depressants to pregnant women (and to rest of the un-depressed population for that matter)? How else does one explain why incredibly dangerous products like Yaz/Yasmin are still on the market despite having more serious adverse events than drugs already off the market because of safety issues (VIOXX) (see  comparison of Yaz side effects below, from www.adverseevents.com  or click on the graphic below).  How else do we explain why it took so many years to remove DES from the market place despite evidence of both teratogenic and carcinogenic effects from the onset or why HRT, was allowed to be marketed as the magic pill that cured all, without any evidence whatsoever? How else do we explain why we not only bought these drugs but demanded them (besides the fact that many are addictive)? How else does one explain that in the 21st century only 30% of practice guidelines for obstetricians and gynecologists are evidence based? Thirty-percent!!!


I guess one really doesn’t need evidence if the treatment choices are limited to bad and worse. Indeed, it’s probably a good thing that more people, patients and doctors alike, don’t question the prescribing practices, the medical efficacy or the very real risk some of these meds pose. Maybe we are marks.

Where did this racket of corporate miscreance come from? I would argue it came from us, or rather because of us. For some reason, we the consumer, the citizen, the patient, the physician, the politician, checked our common sense and personal responsibility at the door of mega-marketing. Somehow we convinced ourselves that we deserved everything, but had to pay for nothing. We abdicated our personal responsibility for our own health, happiness and financial stability to others. And now we are facing the consequences: ill-health, physical and economical, personal and global.

The economic crash exposed the fealty of our financial system and is exposing the very real flaws in our corporate, insurance-based, medical system. The system has taken medical decision-making away from the physician and the patient and placed it squarely in the hands of pharma marketing engines and insurance companies. We’re at a juncture in time, where the sheer economic reality of buying pills to solve all medical problems, is contrasted by the fact that many simply cannot afford their meds anymore and must look to alternative solutions for health.

With all crises comes innovation and change, maybe with this one, we can get back to the “first do no harm” principle of medicine. Maybe we can get back to personal responsibility for health. I think Bill Maher said it best “We’ll stop being sick,when we stop making ourselves sick.”

For a laugh-out loud assessment of modern healthcare by Bill Maher click here.

To look up or report adverse reactions to common medications go to: www.adverseevents.com

Warning: This site does not offer medical advice. If you have questions about your medications or your health, please consult your physician. Do not attempt to discontinue any medication without physician approval and supervision.

Pondering Cancer: the Hubris of Innovation

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This week begins breast cancer awareness month, a movement started 25 years ago largely by women and family members affected by cancer. The efforts of these men and women have been extraordinarily successful. Who doesn’t associate the pink ribbons with breast cancer? To boot, the public awareness catalyzed the need for research. The War on Cancer was born and a staggering amount of federal and private dollars research dollars have poured into cancer research. Federal breast cancer research dollars totaled $763 million in 2010.

And yet, except for the years between 1999-2005, which saw a 2% decline in new diagnoses (NCHS, SEER), largely attributed to the post-WHI decline in HRT use, breast cancer rates have increased steadily over the last two decades. The incidence of breast cancer is now 1 in 8 women (SEER). It seems the war on breast cancer has not been won.

I am not a cancer researcher and so my thoughts on cancer are offered with some trepidation. Sure, I did the requisite pharmacology papers and presentations in graduate school and even taught the basics in some of my undergraduate courses, but I don’t really know cancer, not like I know other disease processes. And so, as I pondered the state of cancer and reviewed the statistics, looking for an angle into this post, somewhere I could add to the conversation and not just regurgitate existing pablum, what became clear was a nagging sense of intellectual unease. Despite the billions spent on cancer research and the bevy of new treatments, more women are getting cancer than ever before. Perhaps better diagnostics explain the ever increasing incidence of breast cancer. Perhaps not.

Like so many modern diseases, cancer sits at the nexus between high and low science, between medicine and marketing. It is one of those diseases that at once benefits from 20th-21st century science and technology, and suffers immensely from the hubris of those same innovations.

A case and point: a report by the Personalized Medicine Coalition published three years ago and discussed last year in Bloomberg BusinessWeek indicates that of the $292 billion dollars spent on prescription medications in 2008 almost 50% went to medications that didn’t work. That means in one year, we spent $145 billion on medications that didn’t work. The report goes on to suggest that billions more were spent treating the side effects and adverse reactions.

Aside from the ridiculous amount of money spent on medications that don’t work and the billions more spent mitigating the potentially serious side-effects of these medications, both of which threaten our national economy in a very tangible manner; aside from the economics, the point that may be lost in this conversation, is that we are ingesting these medications and trusting them to work or at least not make us worse.

What happens when medications originally intended for one use are marketed for another? What happens when the need for blockbuster drug sales overshadows the actual benefits of a medication or worse yet, hides the dangers (DES, HRT, Vioxx, Yaz/Yasmin)? What happens when we disregard basic genetics, basic science and common sense when prescribing a medication? What happens when we use the one-size-fits-all or the one pill-cures-all approach?

Are we creating the very cancers we are trying to treat?

Women’s Hormones: An Intellectual and Ethical Cul de Sac

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Menopause is barreling down with a ferocity that is difficult to ignore. Like many women my age, I’ve had my share of health challenges and, until recently, blindly trusted the pharmaceutical industry to fix all that ailed me. Health by chemistry was a great thing; oral contraceptives, a fabulous invention, allergy meds – ditto, pain killers – wonderful, and on, and on. Take a pill and feel better, isn’t that what we all want? But I, like so many women, have lost faith in pharmaceuticals. It’s not because the science isn’t cool, it is, in every area of pharmacology, except women’s hormone therapies. Here, intellectual curiosity and innovation have been replaced by status quo. Little has changed in this area of hormones and health in 60 years.

Hormones, Hormones, Everywhere and No Innovation in Sight

Since their inception, hormone replacement therapies (HRT) and oral contraceptives have dominated women’s health, immediately moving from seemingly narrow applications when first introduced to the almost mythical status as cure-alls for any female and many general health ailments. The history of both these pills is strikingly inglorious and utterly dumbfounding. Just on general principle, why would anyone believe any medication could be so widely beneficial for so many apparently disparate conditions? It is physiologically impossible.

For HRT especially, if one believes the marketing, the pills provide a veritable fountain of youth. Where is the science? But believe we did, and generations of women may now be paying the consequences.

From the very first estrogens synthesized and marketed to women everywhere (diethylstilbestrol- DES), through today’s HRTs and OCs, profit appears to override health concerns. Even in the 1930’s and 1940s before these drugs came to market, the carcinogenic risks were well known, and yet, they garnered FDA approval and were sold to millions, upon millions of women.

Synthetic Hormones

I have personal experience only with the often ignored side effects of oral contraceptives, as I have yet to reach the age of menopause. In my 20s, while on the presumable high estrogen dose of oral contraceptives that were common then, I had intense bouts of vertigo that would develop even when lying down and ever increasing blood pressure. After years of expensive testing could find no neurological cause for the vertigo and after repeated prescriptions to lower my blood pressure, I stopped taking the pill. I had enough. The vertigo stopped fairly soon thereafter and the blood pressure returned to normal. Over those several years, there was not a single physician that suggested I stop taking the pill, indeed I was prescribed more and more meds to counter the apparently unknown side effects of oral contraceptives and it was recommended I see a shrink because the vertigo had to be psychosomatic.

I look back at that time and I wonder how many other women suffered similar circumstances. What is this propensity to prescribe and continue prescribing medications in the face of apparent ill effects? Why are we ignoring, even at the patient level, the possibility that some meds may not work for some women (or men). The statistics bear this out, but there seems to be a natural inclination to minimize these risks. This is compounded of course, by intense marketing.

As I approach this menopausal stage, I again will be faced with yet another hormone-issue for which the choices are bad and worse. We know from the Women’s Health Initiative (WHI) in 2002, that HRT is not the panacea it was marketed to be and the risks associated with this medication are not benign.

Over a one year period, for every 10,000 women taking and estrogen plus progestin, the risk of developing these conditions increases by:

• Heart disease: 7 additional cases
• Breast cancer: 8 additional cases
• Stroke: 8 additional cases
• Blood clots: 18 additional cases

For estrogen only:

• Stroke: 12 additional cases
• Blood Clots: 6 additional cases

Consider however, the millions of women who will take or have taken HRT for years. As of 2010, over eight million women in the US alone take HRT, and will likely do so for at least a couple years. In this light, the increased risk of disease looks a lot scarier.

• Heart disease: 5600 new cases per year; 28,000 in five years
• Breast cancer: 6,400 new cases per year; 32,000 in five years
• Stroke: 6,400 new cases per year; 32,000 in five years
• Blood clots: 14,400 new cases per year; 72,000 in five years

When the WHI was published, some 17 million women in the US had been taking HRT for many, many years, even decades. That’s 13,600 new cases of breast cancer per year, 68,000 in five years! Despite these data, and the thousands of lawsuits that followed, HRT is still one of the most frequently prescribed medications worldwide. I think we can do better.

Statistics from the Mayo Clinic

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