Category: Chemotherapy

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I’m a Guinea Pig!

I have been accepted to participate in a study at MD Anderson titled, “Optimizing Neurofeedback to Treat Chemotherapy Induced Peripheral Neuropathy.” That’s a mouthful! Basically, they are looking at neuropathy treatment options, and we will be making history. In case you don’t know what neuropathy is, you can read more here. My mom had diabetic neuropathy, and I never fully understood what she was experiencing. Now I do.

I don’t talk abut side effects of my treatment much, but when this study came up I thought it might help. My mother’s neuropathy was much worse, but I do have chemo-induced peripheral neuropathy in my feet, legs, and hands. My fingers tingle and itch at random times throughout the day. It makes playing the piano and typing on the keyboard a bit of a challenge. My legs feel like I have 20 pound weights tied to them, so I walk slower than my usual slowness. I sometimes have trouble with balance because my feet do not fully feel the ground beneath me. I have not fallen so it could be worse. And my feet feel like I am wearing socks with gravel inserted just south of my toes. Even when I am wearing sandals or walking around barefooted.

This study is looking at whether medication alone, neurofeedback alone, or the combination of the two has the best effect on peripheral neuropathy. At least that’s my understanding. We will be randomly assigned to the three groups listed above. Since everyone in the study gets some form of treatment for neuropathy, I agreed to try it out. It will last about a year and I will need to come downtown 2-3 times during that period. All the rest can be done from home. They hypothesize that since neuropathy is a neurological disorder, neurofeedback should help. They believe the treatment will retrain the brain to re-connect the nerves where they are intended to feel. Pretty cool when you think about it. Our brains are amazing creations.

I am here today to do the initial screening, and find out what group I’m in. Tim was kind enough to drive me downtown, and we actually got here early! My arm feels naked. This is the first time I’ve been to MD Anderson at any facility when they didn’t give me an armband with my MRN and DOB on it. No armband at all.

During today’s appointment they will be taking an EEG. It will be my first time doing that scan as well. This entails wearing a cap, which will contain a conductive gel on the inside. This gel will be coming in contact with my hair and scalp. They say the gel has no odor and comes out easily in the shower. I told Tim I might have a funny hairdo when I come out. They will be doing some brain mapping.

All expenses, including parking if I drive myself here, will be covered by the study. They will ship me the neurofeedback equipment (if I’m in one of those two groups). Unfortunately, it only works with Windows on a PC. If you know me at all, you know I’m definitely a Mac person so I will need to get a PC with Windows to participate in the study. It could be helpful to have an inexpensive computer for back-up and for guests to use. It’s either that, or I have to come downtown three times per week to do the treatment.

I’ll keep you posted on how the treatment goes, as well as the study if I am privy to the results.

À la prochaine…hasta la próxima vez…until next time!

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Medicare and Reload

Today is the first day of treatment since my Medicare kicked in. I wasn’t sure how it would work out, so I checked in early with high hopes to manage expectations. They assured me, it’s all taken care of. They assured me. there’s no charge for today’s visits. Whew! I’m still keeping my fingers crossed.

I also saw my oncologist this morning. I had a nice chat with the nurse about our recent motorcycle trip up north, and we talked about my mother-in-law’s passing. I also learned that my doctor recently had covid, so we aren’t the only ones. It’s going around, even amongst those who have been vaccinated. He apparently caught it at a conference. We laughed about how he holed up in a hotel to quarantine from his family. Since he couldn’t go out for food, his wife would bring him meals and leave it on the floor outside the door “like I had leprosy.” The quarantine is worse than the virus, in some cases. My caregivers have been with me for more than five years now. We have developed a good rapport, so it’s always pleasant when I go and see them.

My doc said he has to reload both of my infusions during this treatment, because it’s been more than six weeks since my last treatment (thanks Covid 🙄). Yesterday was exactly six weeks. If I had come in on Tuesday, we could have just reloaded the one. Herceptin has to be reloaded after four weeks, and Perjeta after six weeks. We try not to do that, but times like these it’s hard to avoid.

It’s going to be a long wait. I have 90 minutes of Herceptin and 60 minutes of Perjeta. Usually it is 30 and 30. I’m going to hit The Woodlands during rush hour. Oy vey…

My computer is full of juice, I have my Diet Coke by my side, and a warm blanket is on my legs. I’m ready to go!

I forgot to put on my port cream, but Warren is a good nurse. I didn’t feel a thing. He got good blood return and no problems with the port. Thumbs up…👍.

While sitting here, I received a text from a friend, whose friend was just diagnosed with breast cancer. They found it on her first mammogram. Fortunately they caught it early, and she can have a lumpectomy. It doesn’t matter the stage, it’s still hard to hear.

I am always empathic toward those who are newly diagnosed. The emotions are overwhelming. If ever you have heard a doctor say the “c” word, you know what I’m talking about. I pray for these women, as it’s a tough road. It’s a change in identity. We are part of a club we never wanted to join. Fortunately, there are lots of treatment options and we are living longer than we ever have in the past. God has blessed some amazing people with great knowledge and skills to treat and even cure the worse of cancers.

À la prochaine…hasta la próxima vez…until next time!

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The Medicare Dance

Two more days and I’ll be switching to Medicare from my safe and secure insurance policy that has brought me thus far. It’s a bit daunting learning all the Medicare language. And because I’m not 65 yet, my options are more limited. Apparently, once I turn 65 I will have more options and insurance will be cheaper. Apparently.

In case you are trying to dance 💃🏻 through this maze as well, maybe this will help you out. Here’s what I have learned so far as it pertains to me.

Medicare has three main parts. Part A covers in-patient, with a $1,550 deductible. Part B covers doctors, tests, and specialists with a monthly premium based on your income, a $233 deductible, then Medicare pays 80% of all costs. Part D covers drugs. (There is a Part C, but that’s basically a combination of A and B in what’s called an Advantage Plan. I’ve been told to steer clear of those, and my doctor isn’t sure they would be covered, so I ruled out Advantage.)

In order to avoid paying the $1,550 deductible for Part A, and the 20% coinsurance for Part B, you have to have a supplemental insurance plan. I wish the letters aligned with the stars, as it can get confusing. Basically, to cover Part A deductibles, you have to get Plan B or higher. To cover the Part B coinsurance, you have to get Plan A (or higher). In Texas, you can only get Plan A if you are under 65. There was some disagreement about this, but I’ve double and triple and quadruple checked. The Medicare.gov website even says State Farm provides Plan G, but in reality they don’t. My local State Farm said they don’t provide any supplements, but it’s probably because she didn’t want to quote $20,000 per year for Plan A. Yikes! 😳😳 No thanks.

I will have to pay Part A $1,550 deductible if ever I go into the hospital. We are praying that doesn’t happen. This last surgery was hopefully the last one for me. I don’t know if I could handle another, to be honest. This is part of the reason we opted to do it now rather than later. If ever I’m in an accident and have to go to the hospital, I may be reaching out to my friends in a GoFundMe account. 🤪😁

All insurance companies provide the exact same supplements. Plan A is Plan A regardless of who provides it. And the doctors take it no matter whose plan it is. Insurance companies can charge whatever they want, however. That may range anywhere from $300 to $1700 per month. So basically, whoever provides the insurance for the lowest premium wins. It is up to the consumer to do the research.

I set out calling multiple insurance companies, then I discovered the Medicare.gov website also lists insurance companies and how much they charge. TransAmerica had the least expensive premium at $336.18, so I sent off the application today, and they confirmed they received it. They are a solid company, with a good reputation, and met my insurance friend’s approval test as well.

Something else I learned. Once I pick an insurance company, I’m pretty much stuck with that company. So I am praying I chose wisely. The reason is because I am currently in what is considered a “one time only guaranteed issue.” I don’t have to pass any medical tests or underwriting questions since I’m new to Medicare. If ever I decided to switch, I would have to go through underwriting. Guess what, I won’t be switching!

Plan D will be through Cigna. After multiple calls to brokers and Medicare, they were the best option at $23.10 per month. You can input your medications into the Medicare.gov website and their formula shows you how much it will cost by different insurance companies. Again, Plan D is the same for all companies, but their cost isn’t necessarily the same. Cigna won. There is a hefty deductible for most companies (which I won’t meet by the end of the year), but it will save me some money over paying for my medications out of pocket.

I kinda chuckled when I chose Cigna, because that’s who currently provides my insurance. They have been really good to me, although they tried to send me out of the MD Anderson network to get my chemo. They won’t have any say in that because infusions fall under Part B, not Part D, since it’s given in the infusion center. I will likely be moving to a mail-order pharmacy for drugs as it is cheaper. Honestly, this seems like it would be easier anyway.

I’m still crossing my fingers and toes as we wait to see if all this pans out the way they say it should. We might have to pay over $500 premiums per month plus deductibles, but at least we won’t be paying $2,500 per month for Cobra any more, in addition to coinsurance. (We still have to pay for Cobra for Tim until the end of the year, but thankfully my part is removed.) I’ll keep you posted as I discover more about this whole Medicare dance that I am now a part of.

À la prochaine…until next time.

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Think!

I’m currently on the second bag. I’ve finished Perjeta, and now I’m getting Herceptin. I have a new nurse today, and he is on top of it. We’re moving through treatment pretty quickly. Tim is in the building working, and I feel like I need a nap. 😂😂

My treatment was scheduled through lunch today, so I bought a “Think” high protein bar from the café to sustain me. I am a thinker, so it’s appropriate. It’s called “lemon delight,” but the bar looks nothing like the lemon bar pictured on the package. And, it doesn’t really taste like it either. The Atkins bars are more true to taste. I hate falling for false advertising! 😫 I bought it because it has zero (0) sugar.

Speaking of sugar. They draw blood every time I come, so I get to watch it on a regular basis. Today, my glucose was in the normal range! I wasn’t fasting and it’s still normal. It’s the first time in a very long time. I’ve been 100-110 in the “at-risk” range for a while, which is just above normal, but it has been slowly creeping up. I was concerned it might turn to diabetes some day, since it’s so common in my family. This was a nice surprise. Maybe those new supplements are working. 😁

I hear my BD AlarisTM Pump is beeping, so I should be going home soon. Have a wonderful day everyone! And remember, you are only as sweet as you THINK you are!

À la prochaine… until next time.

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Chemo, not chemo, and Surgery, Oh!

Dr. Kovitz, my medical oncologist, called me today. Apparently he spoke with my surgeon and they decided I can go ahead with my infusion on Thursday. The surgeon was following her regular protocol which is to stop all chemotherapy infusions before surgery. But Dr. Kovitz reminded her this is not chemotherapy (even though we call it chemo and it’s infused in the chemo infusion center). It’s immunotherapy. Dr. Kovitz said we really don’t know how long we would have to wait for it to get out of my system anyway. So…we are back on schedule for treatment this week.

Oh, did I forget to tell you I’m scheduled for surgery? 🙄

It’s been a busy week. We helped move our daughter’s family out of their apartment into a storage unit until their next place is ready. They can move in tomorrow. She has been staying with us (and her two kids) in the meantime. The kids are feeling the transition. They are five and three, and they are good at it. 😂 Did I say they can move in tomorrow? 😂🤪😂 She also starts a new job tomorrow. But that’s a whole other story for a different blog.

Surgery, oh yeah.

My colorectal surgeon, Dr. You (not to be mistaken for Dr. Who), called me after the failed polyp procedure. She said we have two options. Since the biopsies did not show cancer (they are precancerous adenomas which may or may not turn into cancer), we can “wait and see.” In other words, go in every year or so and take more biopsies to see if progresses to something more. If it does, we will do surgery then.

OR …

If I “can’t sleep at night” because I’m concerned about it, or I just want to be certain, we can go ahead and do the surgery. Remove part of my colon, appendix, and of course the polyp.

I weighed the options. Hmmm. I don’t like the idea of waiting and watching something grow. We did that with my breast cancer the first time, and look where it got me.

And then Dr. You gave me the blueberry pancake analogy, a/k/a her “caveat.” That sealed the deal for me. After talking with hubby and friends, we all agreed.

What is the blueberry pancake analogy? I’m glad you asked.

Basically, when they do biopsies it’s like pulling pieces from a blueberry pancake. If they find blueberries, we know they exist. However, there is no guarantee there are no blueberries just because they didn’t find any in the biopsy. Her caveat is that. Unless we remove the whole pancake, we don’t know if we missed any blueberries. But don’t worry, she added. There are several stages before it hits the cancer stage. 😳😳

I like blueberries, but not when they are compared to cancerous growths. I didn’t like the idea of the slightest possibility that something could still be lurking underneath this giant thing. The only way to know for sure is to remove the whole pancake, er, I mean, polyp.

Besides, my insurance is changing to Medicare in July and we still don’t know what all that means. All my out of pocket expenses are currently met for the year with my current insurance, so we can let Cigna pay for it.

All that to say…we decided to go ahead and do the surgery. It’s scheduled for Tuesday June 7th at the downtown MD Anderson Cancer Center. I have pre-op in The Woodlands on Friday May 27th, a Covid test and labs on Sunday June 5th, bowel prep (of course), and then I’ll be in the hospital from June 7th until after surgery for 3-5 days (depending on how quickly I poop💩). It looks like recovery is about 6 weeks but she said I should be feeling pretty good after 2-4 weeks.

This surgery is called by the following name. Here’s a WebMD link if you are super curious. SURGICAL LAPAROSCOPY WITH PARTIAL COLECTOMY, REMOVAL OF TERMINAL ILEUM, AND ILEOCOLOSTOMY. Looks like walking is a good thing, so I plan to do some of that after I get out. I’m sure I’ll know more after the pre-op visit, but that’s the gist of it.

À la prochaine … until next time!

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Ring that Bell!

Two people have rung the bell while I’m sitting here getting my treatment today. My room is right by the bell, so it startled me the first time. Clapping. Congratulations. Thanks for all that MD Anderson has done. Some women with metastatic breast cancer feel dejected when this happens. We will never be finished with treatment. We will never ring the bell.

Yet, I am happy for these people as they complete this part of their journey.

I’m a little tired today. Right after I took that picture I took a nap. It’s been three weeks since my last treatment, which usually seems to go by so fast. Yet this time it seems like a long time since I was here. Probably because so much has happened since last time. I had that failed procedure I blogged about, and lots of time spent with grandkids. Easter has also been in between somewhere. It’s been a hectic month.

I did get the biopsy result back for that colon polyp. It’s not cancer, but precancerous. They call it a tubular adenoma. He referred me back to the colorectal surgeon for a consult. That happens on Friday the 13th, and then we decide next steps. Most likely this means removal of part of my colon.

A Carolina wren couple has decided to make our bluebird box their home. And I came home to some beautiful roses in my planter out front the other day. Our grass and trees are loving the rainstorms. Everything is so green and growing. Spring is definitely in the air.

Life goes on. We are staying busy and living life. We are helping Parkgate Community Church until they hire a new pastor. I’m speaking about my journey in church on the 15th of May. It’s a message of hope. A message about Living Life on Purpose. Regardless of the storms. Regardless of whether we ever ring the bell.

As I’m sitting here thinking about all the storms we have faced, I am reminded of a quote I will share that week. It reminds me to look for color in the clouds.

And… I always take time to smell the roses!

À la prochaine…until next time!

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Another Long Day…*sigh*

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It’s 1:28 PM and the day is only half over. The morning started with a drive through traffic to MD Anderson in The Woodlands for my 8:00 AM bloodwork. Third Floor.

Then I was off to getting prepped for CT scans of the chest, abdomen, pelvis and whole body bone scan (access port, drink the peach tea contrast, inject the nuclear tracer). First Floor.

A few abnormalities happened to me today, but since I’m used to the process I didn’t panic. A little trouble with blood return. Raise your hand. Make a fist. Lay back. Cough… That did take care of it. In addition, they had too many nuclear medicine tracers in my room. Three to be exact. Fortunately, I had a savvy nurse who quickly figured out which one is mine. Is it a full moon? 🙄🙄

The CT tech took me back a little early, so that cleared up some time between scans to go and eat the oatmeal I had brought with me. I also bought some tea in their café. Second Floor.

I’m pretty good at math, but when the bone scan tech said today was a slow day with about 120 patients, I was quite surprised. They normally have between 150-160 patients every day 😳.) I couldn’t wrap my head around it. They only have the one machine. Mine takes about 15-20 minutes. How do they fit them all in? It’s one of those mysteries I may never know the answer to.

After some humorous comments by the bone scan tech about various people snoring over the loud speaker, I’m pretty sure I fell asleep 🥱. He concurred, but he said he didn’t have any recording to prove it. Whew 😅. First Floor.

I normally do these scans about every four to six months. My oncologist brought me in at the three month mark this time due to some pain in my right ribcage. It comes and goes. It is reminiscent of when and where the cancer started in my left ribcage, so he’s scanning a bit earlier than normal to be certain. I suspect all will be clear, but you never know with this disease.

That took us until noon. We should get the results in the next few days.

They left my port accessed for chemo (immunotherapy). Tim picked me up for lunch, and we left the building. We also got to pop into Circle K and say hello to Elizabeth. It was nice to see her in the middle of the day. She looks tired, but I think she is doing okay. I’m really proud of her for working so hard to keep her family afloat.

I came back early for chemo, with hopes of getting in and out a bit early. I just checked in, and pulled out my computer while I am waiting. I am an hour early, so who knows whether they will call me early or not. Third Floor.

When I opened my computer, I was welcomed by the normal MD Anderson Internet connection. But this time a special announcement came with it. A press release dated today caught my attention. This is just one more reminder of what a wonderful facility I am blessed to be a part of.

MD Anderson just opened a research center in his name, devoted to the work of immunotherapy. If you want to read more about it, click here. Very incredible work they are doing!

Jim Allison is an interesting scientist. They really should make a movie about him. He’s the one who said our immune system can fight cancer, while all the others in the field laughed at his ideas. Well, we all know about immunotherapy now, and how much it has changed the health world. Amazing stuff. He was awarded the first Nobel Peace Prize for his immunotherapy treatment. Totally brilliant.

“Mr. West?”

“Who are you looking for?”

“Mr. West?”

“What’s the first name?” I said this with some degree of hopefulness.

She double-checked. It’s a guy. Rats. Looks like I’ll be waiting a bit longer.

At least they won’t have to poke me again. There’s always an upside.

À la prochaine…see you next time.

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An Insurance Hiccup

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chemo day

Medical insurance has been a life saver, but this week it was a bit of a stressor.

I received a call from MD Anderson, telling me Cigna was only going to approve one more treatment. That’s today’s treatment. After this, they said I would have to go outside the MD Anderson system to another facility.

I get these infusions every three weeks, so my doctor was concerned about doing everything in time for my next treatment. Also, how does that work? He can only write orders for this facility, which means I need another doctor elsewhere. How do they monitor everything? And how does MD Anderson keep up with everything if it’s not all done in house?

This could be a real pain. 🤨 The closest center they want to send me to is 45 minutes from my home.

I get it. I’m sure it’s all about saving money. MD Anderson is considered a hospital system, and any time you do something at the hospital it is quite a bit more expensive than when you go to an outpatient facility. However, I’ve been getting treatment here since 2012, with no hiccups like this. Routinely and more frequently since 2017. Why the sudden change?

I’m sure it probably has something to do with Covid. Isn’t everything?

I pleaded my case. I informed the Cigna case manager that I will be going on Medicare starting in July, so please don’t make me move for a few more infusions. My 29-month waiting period to get on Medicare will finally be over. They will not only let me on Medicare, but force it on me.

She asked if I would be using Cigna as a supplemental policy to Medicare. Uh, after this fiasco? My answer is a confident NO. I will seek another company for supplemental insurance.

If they’ll have me. 😳😳

After multiple calls with Cigna back and forth, discussions with the medical director, and reviewing my case, she called me back this morning. Since I only have five more treatments until July, they authorized the remaining treatments until my Medicare kicks in.

Hooray! 🥳🤩🥳 See, your prayers were answered before you even knew what to pray for!

So, today I’m on round eighty-something of Perjeta and Herceptin. There are five more rounds until I go on Medicare. At least, I believe I’ll be on Medicare at that point. If not, Cigna is holding fast to their decision to move me outside the system. I guess we’ll see when the time comes.

“…your Father knows exactly what you need even before you ask him!”

Matthew 6:8b NLT

À la prochaine…see you next time.

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#blooddocscanchemoandprepday

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Bloodwork, Oncologist, MRI, Chemo AND prep for a colonoscopy, all on the same day. I know…I’m a little crazy for scheduling it this way. This fulfills that saying when it rains it…well you get the idea. It all started at 7:45 AM. Traffic was bad coming through The Woodlands. I’m tired thinking about it , but we’re nearly through the day at this writing. At least it’s not raining outside. The weather is beautiful; it feels like a spring day instead of winter. I’ve been going in and out to my car all day between medical appointments. The girls at the front just wave me in at each return.

Bloodwork. First, the bloodwork. Everything looks good. My glucose was a little higher than normal (165). Probably because I drank some OJ before bed, and then I had some apple juice right before I came in 🤷‍♀️. I often fast before coming in just so I can monitor where it really sits, but I knew I wouldn’t get to eat today so I drank the juice. We don’t worry about it typically, especially if I haven’t been fasting. I am careful, however; my family has a way of attracting diabetes.

Medical Oncologist. I do have a nagging pain on my right ribcage that has crept up in the past few weeks, so I mentioned it to my oncologist. This is how the tumor started on my left ribcage that lead to the Stage 4 diagnosis. A nagging pain that would come and go. I was between doctors at the time, as my oncologist left and I was seeing a physician assistant. He remembered that history, and he doesn’t like to leave stones unturned. They checked it out, and didn’t see anything, but he decided to have me go back for my bone scans a little earlier than usual just to be sure. We aren’t expecting anything nefarious to turn up.

In addition, he said there is some new research on Zometa. This is the infusion I get every three months to strengthen the bones. I was supposed to get it today, but he’s holding off. Researchers are debating how long is long enough, versus how long is too long, etc. I’ve been on it for about 5 years now, and they think 2-3 years is long enough. While it strengthens the bones, it makes them solid. Bones are not naturally solid. This is actually a weaker frame than the bones I call “suspension bridge” bones. He’s ordering a bone density to see where we stand before continuing the Zometa. I haven’t had one of those in a long time, so I don’t even remember what it’s like. I guess I’ll find out soon enough whether I get to snooze in that one.

MRI. After my oncologist and I chatted about our families and the joys of grandchildren, I went for my MRI. I did get a little nap during that one in spite of the noise and shaky table 😴😴. They took me in early, which was a blessing. A little trouble getting blood return on my port, but it didn’t stop the process. They are looking at my brain again. It’s a routine thing, and we hope it’s nothing, but they do a great job of keeping an eye on everything. I follow-up with my radiation oncologist next week for the results.

Lunch…

Ordinarily I would go to Panera Bread for lunch, and hang out in between scans or treatment. But it just so happens that today is the day before my five-year follow-up colonoscopy. 🙄 If you’ve ever had one, you know all about the prep. I’ve been on a clear liquid diet since I woke up. I had juice for breakfast, and two bowls of vegetable broth for lunch. I was thrilled to see they have added a machine with ice cream and popsicles to the café at MD Anderson. That was a welcome surprise! I can’t have the dairy, but the popsicle was a delight to bite down on–guilt and sugar free!

Chemo. I checked in two hours early, but they took me back nearly 30 minutes late. The sun will be setting on my way home, and I’ll catch the commuter traffic *Sigh*. Fortunately they didn’t have any trouble with blood return. At this writing, I’m on my second bag and almost done. One of my previous nurses told my current nurse that I am an author. She asked about my children’s book! She has a 6 year old daughter and 4 year old son, and she said she is going to order one. I hope she does. 🥰 If so, it was worth the wait. I told her I’m also working on sequels, to her delight.

Prep. While waiting for the chemo to infuse, I started prepping for my colonoscopy. This involves taking double doses of Miralax, followed by 12 horse pills an hour later, instead of all the gallons of that liquid we used to have to drink. So far, the effects have not been overwhelming. I’m hoping to get home before it really hits. Before bed we rinse, repeat.

Admittedly, I was a little frustrated when my internist’s office called and said they don’t have my cardiology release for the colonoscopy. MyChart comes in handy at this point. I can see everything in my medical record. The note said they faxed it back in September, but I had to send it to her again. If I went to all this trouble to prep and they don’t let me do it tomorrow…I just might shed some real tears. 😫😭 They have been behind communicating with me about all the prep. Yesterday I had to drive to Willis to get the pills, because no other Walgreens had them in stock. Sheeeeez.

Yet another day of life in our current dystopian world. 🙄🙄

À la prochaine…see you next time!

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Back on Track

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Twenty days have passed since my positive covid test, so they let me back in the building at MD Anderson. I’m back on track with treatment. We had to reload the Herceptin since it’s been more than four weeks. But, I just learned today, the Perjeta doesn’t have to be reloaded unless it has been more than six weeks. Yay! Usually, the drips are 30 minutes each. But this time it was 30 minutes for Perjeta and 90 minutes for Herceptin. That was enough time for us to conduct a research interview without interruption.

That’s all I’ve got to say about that.

À la prochaine…see you next time!

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