Gentle readers: we've done it. We have scaled the chemo mountain- four rounds under my belt, and we are beginning the descent- two more to go...Blood cells willing, the last chemo infusion should happen on 10/25. Fingers crossed...
Now, if you'll recall back in the spring, I got the diagnosis: Stage II, Hodgkin's Lymphoma. At that time, I was told that the cancer was in the very early stages and that I shouldn't be too concerned. However, I have since learned that the gentle Dr. K, was well...very gentle...not to mention optimistic. Instead, what I now know is that I am actually Stage IIB Unfavorable. That's right they used the word "unfavorable." I was so offended...like there's anything remotely unfavorable about me. But, once I got off my high horse, I was able to dig a little deeper and learn the following:
Stage II is in fact an early stage of cancer in that it is located above my diaphram. The B signifies basically that the cancer is in both sides of my body and the unfavorable part means that I have a particularly aggressive form of this disease. Now aggressive, that's a word I tend to appreciate- except when it applies to my cancer. The folks in the white coats decided that it is an aggressive due to the size of the main tumor. I won't lie. It's big (10 cm). And on the PET scan, it looks a lot like a cat sitting in my ribs. Odd, as I really don't like cats since they do stupid shit, like sit on a person's rib cage....
So, what's next? The plan was and still is that following my fourth round of chemo, I will submit to another PET scan- you remember what that is, right? Positron Emission Test. I get pumped full of some super nuclear chemical stuff and then sit in a machine that sounds like hammers hammering for about 15 minutes.
The PET scan, with respect to Hodgkin's, is a predictor of being cured. With this cancer. There is no remission. You get cured or die and that's it. The vast majority of people live. So, I'm feeling good about the statistics on that one. But just in case, I did buy my boys some blazers and chinos they can wear, should it end badly for me. Girl Scout Motto: Be Prepared. And my motto is: Man, be dressed appropriately. To be considered cured, you want a PET negative result. PET positive means I'm not cured and I have to undergo more treatment- either via radiation or chemical therapy. I'll beat this disease. I am confident of that. However, if I require secondary treatment, I will then more than likely develop a secondary cancer from the cure. Ain't THAT a bitch?
My PET is scheduled for Tuesday 9/11- a most auspicious day, no? I get the results on Thursday 9/13. (I can get the results sooner, if I'm dying (my MD's words, not mine) to know sooner.) And here's the thing- I kinda don't want to know the results. Instead, I want to hop a plane to Timbuktu or some other remote corner of the world and hide out. And, this is kinda strange for me. I mean, I'm usually the chick who can "take it like a man." I love direct, honest dialogue. But this...this has me twisted up in knots and doing stuff like internet shopping....I just don't want to know.
And, I'm a little embarrassed to write that. Me, who has been nothing if not brave throughout all of this- I mean how many doctors have I expressed my displeasure with? Seriously. But this..this is the one hurdle I'm having trouble getting over.
The smart and direct Dr. Wahl in her lovely iron fist manner has broken it down for me as follows: "Has anyone talked to you about radiation? Because that mass in your chest is really big." Sigh. Like I didn't know that shit already. And Dr. Kenneth Kraemer (who has the nicest eyebrows of any person I've ever seen) explained that radiation therapy is much gentler than chemo. I was too embarrassed to ask him if I would be able to poop after treatment. I figure there's plenty of time for that.
So, this is it folks. Truth telling time. I can run, hide and shop my ass off. But, the reality is that I have to face the music about this cancer thing. If it's negative, I'll be bawling my head off with relief. If it's positive, well I'll probably do something really dumb, like get married again- something, anything, to make me feel alive and like I have plenty of time in front of me.
While it's true- we know not the day nor the time when we get that last call, cancer changed my life timeline. I don't feel like I have the luxury of putting things off till tomorrow. Don't get me wrong- I have no plans of running any marathons or stuff like that and I still nap. Duh! But, there's something to be said about priorities. I appreciate and love my friends and family like never before. And I am quick to walk away from anyone trying to rain on my parade. I have come to value myself and what I have to offer this world. And really, I'm tired of being a cancer patient. I want a new title. NOW.
It's getting kinda real up in here, isn't it?
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