A couple of weeks ago I had an MRI on my upper back to see if my arthritis has gotten worse. My anesthesiologist wanted me to have one done prior to giving me my next epidural. Since it wasn’t my oncologist ordering the test I had to have it done at the regular hospital instead of the Cancer Center where I’m used to going. So different techs, different radiologists reading the scans. The anesthesiologist seemed satisfied and gave me my last epidural without any problems.
Last week, however, I went to my oncologist for my annual blood work and checkup. He looked at the results of the MRI and told me they reported a spot on my right lung. He’s not sure if this is a spot that has been there, as a result of my prior surgery and it’s just being seen by new eyes, or it’s something new and we need to be concerned again.
So, the hamster is back on the wheel. The “what ifs” are flying around my tiny cranial cavity.
OK. we have a CT scan scheduled for when I return from vacation and the oncologist a week later for the results. So for two weeks this is going to prey on my mind.
Light a candle for me.
The winner is the Alitma!! Apparently my puny little cancer cells didn’t measure up to the big gun medicine so he backed off the dosage of Altima by 25% and we’ll see how I do on that. I can already tell that this is coursing through my body at light speed. Little pearl of poison infiltrating my cell structure to wreak havoc over the mutant cancer invaders. Maybe my life is one big video game. I keep getting restarts on the cancer thing till I get it right and move to the next level. What fun that will bring.
Did have something interesting happen today at the oncologists office. A little background here, as little as possible. In 2006 when I was first diagnosed with cancer everyone rallied to my support, with the outstanding exception of the two people I directly reported to and the one person I worked with. Now for four years I spent 10 hours a day with these people, the one that I worked with I thought was one of my greatest friends. We shared everything. Anyway, as soon as I was diagnosed, I ceased to exist for those three people, most notably the one I thought was my friend. Calls were not returned. Lunch meetings with other friends she always had an excuse not to attend. I’ve seen her twice, both accidental meetings, since I left work. Guess who I ran into today.
Sure enough, walked into the doctor’s office today and there she stood. Big as life and she remembers me. I don’t look anything like I did then so I don’t know how, but she did. She put the big show biz grin on her face as she squealed out my name and made to hug me. I looked her in the eye, exchanged a quick “hi, howareya”, and continued on talking to the nurse. I knew who she was, she hasn’t changed a bit. I know I should have been more civil, but I couldn’t find it in my heart to be. She dropped me like a hot rock without a word or reason. She hurt more than my feelings during those months.
Anyway, I think I handled it well, like a lady and an adult. I wanted to scream and cry and ask her why, but I maintained control. I hope I can handle the rest of this chemo with that much control.
Good night all. Sleep well.
There is an official end to the tunnel, even though it’s still two more weeks plus, at least it’s a tiny light. I’m hopeful that I’m done with the chemo also. This last session tore me up.
I now fully understand why prisoners were tortured with a strict diet of bread and water. It causes a binding effect that is most painful to experience. And given the fact that they ate mostly whole grain breads I imagine that would have been worse. Anyway, the chemo caused some major binding and intestinal swelling. Now I have to be careful what I eat for a few days so that I don’t overdo and tear anything. My insides ache like I went seven with Sonny.
There is something so basic in being reduced to not being able to eat, drink, sleep, vomit or have a bm for four or five days. By the middle of the third night I was in agony and nothing worked. Luckily things are moving along swimmingly now. Lesson learned: double up on the Senakot the day before and the day of chemo just to smooth things out.
They want to double my radiation tomorrow. 45 minutes in that cage. I think I’ll ask Tio to drive me, that way I can relax and medicate as needed. My last double day. My skin on my neck looks like a Savannah Monitors right now. Crispy and fried and kinda gnarly, like you used to see on the old women who spent a lot of time by the pool. Old leather comes to mind.
I am so thankful for my friends and family that have helped me through this.