There Is Still No Road Map

I've said before that I'm a planner and an organizer.  I like to know what's next.  I like to put things down on paper to make it official.  Cancer treatment, like a defiant toddler, refuses to follow any plan or schedule.

I met with my surgeon today.  I have completed 12 rounds of chemo and had a PET scan this week.  I was hoping to find out a plan for surgery today.  Mother and I had our calendars out ready to mark everything down and make a plan.  Evidently the plan of attack is so complex it will require a room full of oncologists and oncological surgeons to sort it out.

The good news is that the chemotherapy has been very effective at shrinking the masses. All have been considerably reduced in size.  Everything is still operable as it was in December only now it's smaller.  The complicating factor is the spots on my lungs. In December, after my first PET scan, we found out that there were spots on my lungs.  My oncologist was not concerned about them at the time because they were small and showed low activity.  He wasn't even sure they were cancer.  My recent PET scan showed that they have shrunk and still have low activity which confirmed that they are indeed cancerous. These small low activity spots complicate my treatment.

Essentially my surgeon doesn't want to focus on one organ with surgery while ignoring another organ and possibly allowing the cancer to grow again.  I cannot take my usual chemotherapy while preparing or recovering from surgery.  It's a complex puzzle that will require some thought to come up with a plan.  My surgeon, my oncologist, and their peers will be meeting to discuss my case and determine a plan of attack.  If they cannot come up with a consensus on what to do, I may be sent for a second opinion at Vanderbilt.  As a scientist, this feels comforting. I like the idea of lots of experts discussing and debating to decide the most effective course of action. Logical and methodical is the norm for us Vulcans.

The good news is that my cancer has responded very well to chemotherapy, and surgery is still an option.  My cancer is still treatable. How exactly they will execute treatment is still being worked out, but I feel that I'm in good hands.  The path ahead will become clear soon and I'll have my calendar ready to mark down all the dates.  Keeping the faith.

Looking Back After #12

I finished my 12th and (hopefully) final treatment of full chemotherapy this week. It's likely that I will have to do maintenance chemo after surgery. But compared to what I have done already that should be much easier. It will be one chemo drug instead of four, one hour treatment instead of three days, and possibly less frequent too.  Compared to the stories I've been told by other cancer patients and the people I see at chemo, I feel like I had it pretty easy. My side effects were mild to moderate and were more annoying than debilitating. The odd thing is that the side effects and intensity varied between each treatment. It was like spinning the wheel on Wheel of Fortune. I never knew what I would land on. Fatigue and cold sensitivity in my mouth have been consistent, but the rest have varied with each treatment:

Heartburn

No appetite

Tingling fingers

Numb fingers

Cold sensitivity in fingers

Tingling toes

Clumsiness

Dry mouth

Nosebleeds

Hair thinning

Fever

Chemo brain

Missing from this list is nausea and vomiting. That is a blessing and has a lot to do with my positive attitude. I hate throwing up. So much so that I can generally will myself not to. If I had to go to chemo every other week knowing I would be throwing up and downing Phenagren, I would have been a much crankier patient.

The first chemo was pretty rough. I was exhausted from the previous week's appointments, scans, port install, etc. Plus I was mentally overwhelmed by everything. I think I slept for three days. After that treatments got easier because I knew what to expect, and the symptoms were milder too. 

Knowing what to expect and being able to plan for it helped Sara too. She knew Nana would be here to help, that there would be a trip to Sonic and likely shopping, and that it would pass in a few days.  She didn't like to see me sick and weak but she realized after a few treatments that it wouldn't last long. She has had emotional moments and worried this was "going to last forever". Six months is an eternity to a 9-year old. But mostly she has been a trooper through it all. Her strength has helped me stay strong and I'm sure it goes the other way as well. 

I met with my oncologist last week and planned for a PET scan to evaluate the success of treatment thus far. Then I will meet with my surgeon again. We will discuss all the details I was too stunned to think about back in December. Honestly, the only thing I remember from my first meeting with the surgeon is the two-hour wait in the waiting room and hearing that the tumors were operable and my liver will regenerate after surgery. And I got to see my CT scan which was cool. This time I'll have a list of questions. I'm ready for the next phase of treatment and glad to be done with chemo if only for a little while.  

All in all, things look good, and my heart is full of gratitude.