You know me, I like to be loud and boisterous and jump up and down a bit. That's what I planned to do when I got the results of the CAT Scan and MRI. I'd say it ended up with a mild Woo Hoo. Here's what we know.
CAT Scan was great. It focused on my lungs where the cancer had spread to. Now, my lungs are clear and cancer free! Thank goodness. They can amputate/remove some parts of your body that have cancer. All of both lungs is not one of those options. So the chemo did what it was supposed to do and killed all the small nodules of cancer in my lungs. Homerun!
The MRI ... now that's where it gets a little sticky. We always knew the tumor was still going to be there. (When I refer to "we" now, I'm speaking of Chris and I. However, I didn't know most of this, I just go along with what he says.) So "we" expected to see a mass, "we" also hoped it would be dead. The problem is we're just not sure. So that means surgery.
I swear this pregnancy gone-awry must have been Satan's Spawn or something because this is a persistent little fucker. Two rounds of chemo and the radiologist says it could still be residual cancer. So, so annoying.
Good news, the tumor is half the size it was in 2008. It's likely all scarred over. But that's part of the problem. It likely scarred itself over last time, there were cancer cells still alive in the middle, it laid dormant for 2 1/2 years and then popped up again. The goal is to never have this tumor pop up again. So we're taking it out.
We (now referring to Chris and my doctors) have always talked about a possible resection of this problematic part of my uterus. But they kept saying don't put the cart before the horse. We might not need to do surgery. The chemo should take care of it. Well now we are at the other end, post chemo, horse in front of cart (Amish Buggy in my case) and we DO have to cut. The question now is who will do that, who knows how to do that?
Have an appointment with another Gynecological Oncologist at the University of Pennsylvania in a week and a half. But Dr. Evans has warned me that Gyn/Onc's are typically trained to take the uterus out, not to save it. So I don't know if he's gonna be my guy.
Dr. Goldstein, in Boston, says he knows a Reproductive Endocrinologist who might be able to help. As they explained it to me, a doctor of this specialty aims to get your pregnant and deals with fertility issues. So he might be able to cut just the tumor out of the uterus and leave the rest of it in there.
Some assurances: Dr. Goldstein feels confident we can still conceive. That's a plus. He says because of a uterine surgery I would not be able to have a regular delivery. I would require a C-section so I don't rupture my uterus while I'm pushing. As Marcia always says, none of her grandchildren were born naturally - all C-Sections. I told her I wasn't into that and hoped to skip surgery and push myself. But it seems that's out. No problem. If I actually get to carry my own kid in my own belly and he or she has 10 fingers and 10 toes, I don't care how the baby comes out.
We're not rushing to adoption, IVF or a surrogate yet. We can't harvest any eggs yet either, because I was just on chemo. I go from zero to 60 in like 3.2 seconds. But it's still one step at a time. Today's step: find a doctor with great hands who can cut out a tumor and nothing more. If you know someone, call me.
Left foot, right foot. Left foot, right foot. I didn't jump up and down at the MRI report, but I will jump up and down if Chris and I ever get pregnant!
Friday, August 10, 2012
What Station Would You Pick?
Alright, this was a big week. Monday was body scan time. I wish it was the slightly creepy body scan they do at the airport when you are about to go on an amazing trip to like Fiji. Instead, my scans were feline in nature, plus 2 MRI's for good measure.
The CAT scan (or CT - no idea what the difference is. It might be like Pointsetta. People always said the name of the damn red Christmas flower like that: point-set-uh. Then, suddenly, someone decided we had all been missing a syllable for decades and now the same fricken plan goes by: point-set-ee-uh. Retarded. So CAT, CT, tomato, tomato.) Anyway, the CAT scan was a piece of cake. Like 10 minutes total.
Have you had a CAT scan recently? Did you need "contrast" - the IV fluid that makes it easier to read? Well each of my CAT scans has included this bonus feature and it's unsettling side effect ... you feel like your peeing yourself when you're on the table! For real - like there is a drug that makes that happen! Thank God the tech warns you before because it's weird to say the least. She said, "Remember, this contrast will make you feel warm all over and make you feel like you're losing bladder control." The first time I thought, wow, this I have to try. Now that this is like my 87th CAT scan, I'm confident I haven't wet the sheets even though it feels like it.
Next up was the MRI. I was almost looking forward to this test because this will really show how well we've done. I maintain that an MRI image is all shades of gray (50 Shades, maybe ;-) But somehow, someone can tell a lot from pictures. And I had a lot of pictures to look at ... 2 hours worth.
I'm not claustrophobic and by this point, I don't get overly worked up about most medical tests. Yet when the tech said I would be in the tube for two hours I couldn't believe it. It was two tests; abdomen and pelvis. But a girl is gonna get bored stuck in a tube with loud banging sounds for two hours. Instead of enjoying a full-length feature film, I was surrounded by a magnet making such a racket it sounded like a toddler got into the pots and pans drawer and was having a ball on the kitchen floor.
My first thought was to try to sleep the whole time. Impossible with all the noise, so I considered a drug induced snooze instead. That doesn't work either though because the second half of the test requires your participation. "Take in a breath. Hold it ..... (5 seconds pass) ..... (15 seconds gone) ..... (28 seconds) .... Okay, breathe." If she didn't say breathe, I would have passed out. I'm not an Olympic swimmer for God's sake. She was kind though and said she would give me a chance to catch my breath before the next test. Thanks a lot lady. If I wasn't strapped down, I'd climb out of this tube of torture and smack you. Take in a breath?!?! You take in a goddamn breath, bitch! (Really though the lady was very kind, I just get cranky)
The only thing to do was listen to the music. Oh, I didn't mention there was music? Don't get ahead of yourself - this isn't a i-pod adventure. No one is enjoying a podcast or rocking out to their latest Summer of 2012 playlist. This is satellite radio, but I doubt it's Sirius. There are 40 choices, mostly broken down into decades and genres. Looks like an impressive list to the novice, but I am a body scan veteran.
The first time I played this game, I went simply with station #1 - Top 40 Hits. The woman who checked me in then said it was similar to FM 97 - the terrible, corny yet predictable local radio station. In other words, I should know the songs, they play Call Me Maybe thrice every hour (no joke). That choice was a disaster; both for my ears and my self-esteem. I didn't know a single song, notta one. Plus, it was a lot of techo and rap so I couldn't tell if my headache was from the magnet clanking or the music. And then I wanted to know what was wrong with me that I didn't know a single song in the Top 40. Am I getting too old? Am I losing my mojo? Am I more a Michael Buble than a Top 40 now?
Turns out, it wasn't me. The station sucked. The next scan, I opted for the 80's. Being a (formerly) big haired 80's girl, I thought I would feel right at home here. Verdict: definitely an improvement over my other choice, but I was 2 when some of the songs came out and I was still rocking Sesame Street at that time.
This time, I nailed it. I was sitting pretty (or lying down pretty, I guess) with Station #9 - The 90's. Here's a sample of my 2 hour playlist.
It doesn't matter how old or young you are ... you are singing some of those songs in your head right now. Two hours in a tube is a long time. But not when you're with good friends like Hootie and Alanis.
We'll see if the results make me as happy as I was when I was done with that test. But seriously, Thank God for modern medicine.
The CAT scan (or CT - no idea what the difference is. It might be like Pointsetta. People always said the name of the damn red Christmas flower like that: point-set-uh. Then, suddenly, someone decided we had all been missing a syllable for decades and now the same fricken plan goes by: point-set-ee-uh. Retarded. So CAT, CT, tomato, tomato.) Anyway, the CAT scan was a piece of cake. Like 10 minutes total.
Have you had a CAT scan recently? Did you need "contrast" - the IV fluid that makes it easier to read? Well each of my CAT scans has included this bonus feature and it's unsettling side effect ... you feel like your peeing yourself when you're on the table! For real - like there is a drug that makes that happen! Thank God the tech warns you before because it's weird to say the least. She said, "Remember, this contrast will make you feel warm all over and make you feel like you're losing bladder control." The first time I thought, wow, this I have to try. Now that this is like my 87th CAT scan, I'm confident I haven't wet the sheets even though it feels like it.
Next up was the MRI. I was almost looking forward to this test because this will really show how well we've done. I maintain that an MRI image is all shades of gray (50 Shades, maybe ;-) But somehow, someone can tell a lot from pictures. And I had a lot of pictures to look at ... 2 hours worth.
I'm not claustrophobic and by this point, I don't get overly worked up about most medical tests. Yet when the tech said I would be in the tube for two hours I couldn't believe it. It was two tests; abdomen and pelvis. But a girl is gonna get bored stuck in a tube with loud banging sounds for two hours. Instead of enjoying a full-length feature film, I was surrounded by a magnet making such a racket it sounded like a toddler got into the pots and pans drawer and was having a ball on the kitchen floor.
My first thought was to try to sleep the whole time. Impossible with all the noise, so I considered a drug induced snooze instead. That doesn't work either though because the second half of the test requires your participation. "Take in a breath. Hold it ..... (5 seconds pass) ..... (15 seconds gone) ..... (28 seconds) .... Okay, breathe." If she didn't say breathe, I would have passed out. I'm not an Olympic swimmer for God's sake. She was kind though and said she would give me a chance to catch my breath before the next test. Thanks a lot lady. If I wasn't strapped down, I'd climb out of this tube of torture and smack you. Take in a breath?!?! You take in a goddamn breath, bitch! (Really though the lady was very kind, I just get cranky)
The only thing to do was listen to the music. Oh, I didn't mention there was music? Don't get ahead of yourself - this isn't a i-pod adventure. No one is enjoying a podcast or rocking out to their latest Summer of 2012 playlist. This is satellite radio, but I doubt it's Sirius. There are 40 choices, mostly broken down into decades and genres. Looks like an impressive list to the novice, but I am a body scan veteran.
The first time I played this game, I went simply with station #1 - Top 40 Hits. The woman who checked me in then said it was similar to FM 97 - the terrible, corny yet predictable local radio station. In other words, I should know the songs, they play Call Me Maybe thrice every hour (no joke). That choice was a disaster; both for my ears and my self-esteem. I didn't know a single song, notta one. Plus, it was a lot of techo and rap so I couldn't tell if my headache was from the magnet clanking or the music. And then I wanted to know what was wrong with me that I didn't know a single song in the Top 40. Am I getting too old? Am I losing my mojo? Am I more a Michael Buble than a Top 40 now?
Turns out, it wasn't me. The station sucked. The next scan, I opted for the 80's. Being a (formerly) big haired 80's girl, I thought I would feel right at home here. Verdict: definitely an improvement over my other choice, but I was 2 when some of the songs came out and I was still rocking Sesame Street at that time.
This time, I nailed it. I was sitting pretty (or lying down pretty, I guess) with Station #9 - The 90's. Here's a sample of my 2 hour playlist.
Hootie and Blowfish - Hold My Hand
Backstreet Boys - I Want it That Way
John Mellencamp (pre-Meg Ryan) - Wild Nights
Oasis - Wonderwall
Alanis Morisette - You Oughta Know
Sugar Ray - Every Morning
Counting Crows - Mr. Jones
It doesn't matter how old or young you are ... you are singing some of those songs in your head right now. Two hours in a tube is a long time. But not when you're with good friends like Hootie and Alanis.
We'll see if the results make me as happy as I was when I was done with that test. But seriously, Thank God for modern medicine.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
The Towel Turban
I love my sister Ashley to death. But during our recent trip to the beach, Ash hit three strikes and she was OUT! And it took her no time at all.
Let me explain. Thankfully my hair is really coming in nicely. And by nicely I mean it's about 1/2 inch and it sticks straight up! And I'm not complaining at all. Everyone seems to have an opinion though, even Katie my 6-year old next door neighbor whom I adore. She loves me too, but she doesn't quite like the current coif. She hit two strikes in no time by remarking, "You still look like a boy." And "Why is it coming in white?" I'd like to think it's just really soft blonde. The current color goes to prove I AM a real blonde (and most people know I have the IQ to go with it.)
So when Ash came to visit, the first thing she said was, "Can I borrow your hair dryer?" Well, since I was bald when we closed on the condo, I haven't felt it necessary to bring that small appliance to the beach. Instead, I go "au naturell" and let my head skin air dry. STRIKE #1.
We were getting ready to go out to dinner the next night and the bitch wants to know if she can use my hairspray. Is she kidding me?!?! hehe As I was pretending to be mad and yell at her, I was laughing hysterically. STRIKE #2.
As the short Sisters Trip was winding down, Ashley wanted to reflect on how old I was getting. Thirty-two this year, my recently crowned 30-year old sister reminds me. Yeah, I know. My uterus is getting old, I got it. No, no, she said. She wasn't concerned about my chances to conceive. She's concerned my hair will come in with significant gray. I was gonna kill her. STRIKE #3.
See ... these are things only a sister can say. So is this: Back off bitch, at least it's coming in at all! No, just kidding. We teased Ashley about her hair comments the whole weekend and reflecting on them brings a smile to my face.
You know what else brings a smile to my face? The fact that I resurrected the Towel Turban when I get out of the shower this week. This famous flip of the towel became unnecessary when I was lock-less. But with just a little bit of hair, I feel it's time to Turban it up. Maybe it's God's way of saying I should stand in solidarity with the Sikh community - but that's probably just coincidence. (See ... even thought I haven't been in the newsroom in like 6 months, I'm still paying attention to current events. Did anyone know it was the Olympics?!?! It's all NBC reports on right now. Apparently there is no news other than Ryan Lochte's one night stands.)
I'll post a proper picture of my growing peach fuzz in the next few days, but for now ... here's my best turban!
He's a Poet and He Didn't Know It
As my illness is winding down, the mail keeps coming! I received this hysterical card from a fun friend, Herb Landau who is the director of the Lancaster Public Library. I interview Herb a bit a work. He's always kind and lively - makes for a great interview. He too is from Long Island, so we like to slip back into the old accent when we're together. He sent a wonderful note from the Library staff and included this poem. See, good things do come from cancer. Herb is now ready to embark on a second career as a bonafide poet. Hope you enjoy as much as I did ...
Ode to a Long Island Girl
The Library misses our Dear Meredith
Your visits to us were a fresh air breath
You are our favorite interview pal
The best reporter on WGAL
We miss you on the evening news
And your cool library interviews
You can ask a hard question without any rancor
You've got what it takes to be a super news anchor
We hope that by now you are feeling much better
We need you back as our info go-getter
Hope to see you back in the Lancaster news whirl
'Cause you can't keep down a Saint James Girl
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)