I promised, solemnly swore, that I would update this silly blog once summer concluded. I was given a bit of a pass, as I tend to view it- with my 90 day intervals between "just a little poke" and "drink this magic potion so we can see your insides..." For those of you still with me, thanks! I appreciate it.
However, as the calendar promised, summer is over. It is time for Autumn. And that also means my 90 days of blissed out, no cancer thinking, feeling, etc are over.
Maybe you wonder how my summer went? Well, if so, I'll tell you. It was so relaxing. And honestly I LOVED every minute of it. It did suck however when anyone asked me things like: "Wow! Do you remember what the weather was like last summer?" and "My tomatoes are doing so much better than last summer. Remember?" I would stare numbly and just do my best "I don't have a clue whatchu talkin' 'bout" shrug. Did I feel stupid? Yep. But I'll take that over chemo side-effects any time- and every time. And dear readers, I hope your summer was just as nice- hell, even nicer. I can afford to be generous.
So, that takes us to present day. Yesterday marked the beginning of the end. I rolled up to Swedish Issaquah for my 90 day CT exam. Unfortunately they "forgot" to tell me to drink that nasty ass dye contrast. However, they were so kind about this omission that they kindly offered me their waiting area, a straw and two gallons of dye contrast to drink. And, drink it I did- all without protest. See? Cancer DID make me a better person.
And while I was there, I went ahead and had my blood drawn. I figured it wise to get this out of the way too, as for the past three weeks I have been feeling like shit. And I don't mean a little bit. I mean ALOT. It has gotten to the point that I'm not really eating and I am sleeping ALL THE TIME. The upside to this is that as a middle-aged woman, I relish the ability to get good shut-eye. But, also as middle-aged woman, I know when there is simply too much of a good thing. And, I am certainly in that zone.
While at Swedish, I ran into all my favorite team players, including the very awesome Nurse Debbie. I lerv her. Really, I do. We caught up. She asked me what I was doing there. And I bitched: "Man! I feel like shit. What in the HELL did they DO to me?" She replied: "Well, at least you aren't being treated for cancer." And I got the solemnity of that statement, as I was standing on my old stomping grounds- the chemo room. Hair all grown in, keeping food down, like a BOSS...And around me, well other people weren't so lucky. Count yer blessings, I say...Oh, don't get me wrong. I still whined. And, well, she listened.
I ended up back at Swedish today, because while all of my blood work shows I'm still mercifully cancer free...It did show that I have some sort of "inflammation." I love it when the medical jargon is so specific and shit. Just LOVE it.
I landed on the doorstep of my other favorite MD, Dr. Phillip Capp. And seriously, I have a deep, deep, almost borderline unhealthy passion for this dude. For starters, he's male, young, and somehow, I just KNOW that he's got a washboard stomach under his scrubs. Just say the word Dr...Just say the WORD! Secondly, he does his homework. He rolls in, charts read, and is breaking stuff down in a way that you wish EVERY MD would. I never have to repeat myself. And he never wastes my time.
Unfortunately, he caught me by surprise, as apparently my scans came back with some "lesions" on my lungs. Dang! Well, it explains that my fatigue isn't some manufactured madness that would send me to some back alley to mainline Ritalin...
Dr. Capp readily admitted that he didn't know what they are from. Could be this, could be that. Could be- but most probably isn't- more cancer.
Say what?
Now look. I'm a pro at getting this type of news. Seriously; I'm so good, I'm trying to turn it into a paid gig. "Call me. I'll handle your bad medical news for you..." But even as remote as the possibility is, nothing stops me in my tracks faster than that dreaded word: cancer. Ugh! That shit sucks. It really, really does.
So, here's where I'm at: I kicked the hornet's nest, as I was instructed to do. And now it is time to wait for the "team" to review all this crap and get back to me. Yes, it probably isn't cancer. Though, on the advice of my sage 11 y.o. I decided not to grow my hair back- as cancer isn't really gonna be over for me for another 4 years...Man, he's so smart. Gets it from his mom....
And now it is time to wait. Will it be Door #1: more steroids? Door #2: Antibiotics and steroids? Or Door #3: All of the above AND chemo?
Ohhh....I can hardly wait for the results. Should hear something by Thursday.
And to paraphrase that wise sage: Lenny Kravitz: "Baby it ain't cancer, till it's cancer..." Sing it with me now...
