Welcome to View receiptsA series where we ask interesting people to share exactly how much it costs to get shit done. Regardless of the task, we track every last dollar from start to finish. Next: Costs outside the pocket to have breast cancer.
Between her work as a nurse and several diagnoses, Nicole Seagriff Know a lot about breast cancer. Seagriff was diagnosed with the disease in 2012 and again in 2020, which led her on a very expensive health trip.
“I feel so lucky that I had health insurance,” says the 39-year-old breast cancer advocate for National breast cancer coalition And president for The pink agenda. But Seagriff also faced the fees that no one is talking about: medical costs that are not covered by insurance and additional fees for things such as fertility and hair preservation.
If one in eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer during their lifetime, making the economic burden of the disease reality for many. “We’re not talking about economic toxicity with enough breast cancer,” says Seagill. “You struggle so hard to do it through treatment and you want to go back to normal life. But your savings have taken a hit or you have to repay loans. That’s a lot.”
Each person’s journey with breast cancer is different, but here is the full price division of what Seagill experienced over two serious health travels.
Task: Surviving breast cancer – twice
Job: Nurse practitioners
Place: Connecticut
Timeline: Eight years
Quince
Diagnostic testing: 3,839 $
Doctors’ visits: $ 2514
Mastectomy: $ 3,500
Reconstructive surgery: $ 1,500
Surgery to replace implants: $ 1,500
Chemotherapy: 910 $
Radiation: $ 6,000
Fertility Conservation: $ 16,124
Annual egg storage: $ 1 000 (x 8 years)
Hair preservation: 1 610 $
Annual hormone suppressive medication: 1 024 $ (x 5 years)
Total: $ 50,617
How I did it
Seagriff has undergone the diagnostic and treatment process for breast cancer twice, but every experience has been unique. This is how her journey developed, plus the costs she met along the way.
PS: How was your first breast cancer diagnosed?
Nicole Seagriff: I see my first diagnosis of breast cancer as the ultimate case of success. Most women in my mother’s family have either been diagnosed with breast cancer or died young because of the disease. I followed all the protocols and knew I was high risk. I got genetic testing in 2012, which found that I had a BRCA-2 genetic mutation. I met a high -risk oncologist who ordered an MRI. MRI found cancer.
PS: How was your reaction to learning that you had breast cancer?
Ns: I was not shocked that I had a genetic risk, but I was completely blinded that I had breast cancer at 26. I continued to miss calls from the oncologist who had my MR results because I took care of other patients in my job as a nurse. I got this phone call where in a moment I was transformed from a healthcare provider to a patient. I was diagnosed with breast cancer in step 1.
PS: What happened to your treatment?
Ns: I was told that I had an 89 percent chance that cancer came back a second time, so I decided to have a double mastectomy. However, it was not an easy decision. I want to have children one day and the idea of ​​breastfeeding was important to me. It took me years later to be able to go down in a formula in the grocery store and not tear up. But I almost never doubt my decision.
PS: How was the recovery for you for the first time?
Ns: I was in the hospital one night, which is quite standard for the type of mastectomy I had. I had removed the breast tissues and then had more expanders placed in. These create space to put in an implant.
I was without work for about four to five weeks. During that time, I had to go to the doctor to get the extenders filled with fluid. This extends the muscles of the chest to make room for an implant. I was very sore and had to learn how to use the muscles in my chest again. Day by day, week by week, I could see that I regained movement in my arms again. I had my reconstruction surgery four months later.
PS: How was your second breast cancer discovered?
Ns: It was in the summer of 2020 and I had just returned from Hiking Mountain Kilimanjaro. I was in high physical fitness and I felt good. But I remember that I was enough for something and I felt a bolt over my implant when my arm brushed my chest. I had another flashback when I asked my medical team how I would know if my cancer had come back – they said I would feel it and see it because it would sit on top of the implant. I lifted my shirt and could see a lump that was not there before. My blood ran cold. I knew this was not good.
For starters, I thought I might have broken my implant, and my plastic surgeon did it too. My cancer would not come back. But a biopsy revealed that it had it. Then it was the height of the pandemic. There was already so much fear and uncertainty. I remember saying to my oncologist, “I don’t know how I will be able to do this.” And she said, “You’ll just do it.”
PS: How was the treatment the second time?
Ns: My medical team decided that my cancer was more likely to respond to chemotherapy this time. They gave me what is called the “Red Devil” chemotherapy, which is another word for doxorubicin. I did 14 rounds of it. I also had 30 rounds of radiation, where I went every day.
I had to go to the treatments alone because of the pandemic. I am grateful that no one has ever asked for a co -payment when I was there. I think it was intentional because this is such a emotional process. When I looked through bills later, chemotherapy cost anywhere from $ 6,000 to $ 22,832 per session, but I paid about $ 65 per session after insurance cover.
They also had to remove my implant and this time I got an expander for almost a year due to chemotherapy and radiation.
PS: Did you have any other treatments during this time?
Ns: I took an anti-Nausea medicine that I saw was invoiced through insurance for $ 12,000, although my insurance covered most. I also had hair preservation treatments, where you wear a hat that mainly freezes your head for hours at a time. It was torture. I paid a lot of money out of my pocket to absolutely torture myself. I still lost the majority of my hair, but I don’t regret it because I felt I was trying to help support something that was important to me.
I also underwent fertility preservation before I started chemotherapy, because chemotherapy can make people infertile or have really bad reproductive challenges. My insurance does not pay for me to freeze my eggs, so it was all out of my pocket – more than $ 16,000 in total. It also costs $ 1,000 a year to keep the eggs frozen.
PS: Where do things stand for you now?
Ns: I finished chemotherapy and radiation in mid -February 2021. I am still on medication to suppress my estrogen, as my cancer responds to estrogen. I get an injection every three to five months, which is expensive.
I don’t have screening mammogram now – I was told that it “doesn’t change results.” Instead, I get very thorough breast examinations when I see my oncologist for follow -up visits. I was also told to look for bad headaches and joint pain, which would be a sign that cancer has spread. Ironically, the medicine that I am on these symptoms.
Last thoughts
Seagriff has used its personal experience to do slander work, including helping to raise money for breast cancer research. But she repeats how grateful she is for having had health insurance protection throughout her journey. “I don’t know how people would be able to afford this without insurance,” she says.
Corin Miller is a writer specialized in general wellness, health and lifestyle trends. Her work has emerged in women’s health, herself, health, Forbes and more.