Ok- it been a while since I've updated. And the reason for this is a simple one: there has been absolutely NOTHING to update you with. Well...until now.
To catch you up, at the end of 2013 I broke up with my oncology/pulmonary team. And rather than see it as a sad thing, I decided to treat it more like a team re-building exercise; you know- like the NFL or pro baseball. And really it's the same thing: the process involves many men, lots of money and some crappy one-sided negotiations.
Ok, it's not that bad, as I do love my new team at Seattle Cancer Care Alliance. But since the word "cancer" is in the title, they tend to look at my patient status in a very different way. While at Swedish Issaquah, I was one of a very FEW patients. And I enjoyed all the privilege that came with it- considering it was cancer that brung me...Contrast that with SCCA; which honestly is akin to the Greyhound Bus Station of care. I am one of HUNDREDS of people with cancer. The place is literally CRAWLING with sick people. And let's be super honest, given how awful cancer is, I have no desire at all to be treated special there. Special treatment at SCCA translates into "really, super, scary" sick. That place serves as a sobering reminder that it can always be worse.
Now, new to the tribe is my amazing, and ridiculously thin physical therapist: Carol. She and I meet up once or twice a week, where she drags my reluctant ass through exercises that honestly, a 24 month old could do. Me? I end up a hot sweaty mess, in need of a shower. This whole PT thing is NO JOKE. Steroids have taken their toll on all of my muscles that radiate from my"trunk" and has caused them to basically atrophy. This basically means flabby thighs and wings for this little lady...And let me clarify, there's a difference between the prednisone that I'm on and the anabolic steroids that shrink your sexual organs in exchange for huge muscles. NOT THE SAME THING. And while I may have flabby arms and thighs, I can ASSURE you, everything else is in decent condition. Silver lining!
Anywho- You should also know that Carol has these HUGE blue eyes. And I'll readily admit that as much as I want to shirk my "homework" in exchange for a nap, I just cannot lie to her. I CANNOT DO IT. So, like the good Catholic girl I was raised to be, I endure the torture of PT and the homework all because of guilt. Carol also mentioned in passing that it will be really, really hard for me to build back my muscle mass while still on prednisone. Of course, this left me to ponder just why in the HELL am I doing all of this? I'm sure there's a good reason in there someplace...And well, insurance is covering it. I don't dare ask anymore.
I also got my 120 day check up. The good news is I have NO cancer- anywhere. So YAY!!! for that. The bad news is my stupid lungs showed "infiltrates" again. Sexy Dr. Shustov (seriously, I have GOT to stop thinking about him in that way...) was "unimpressed" with what he saw on the scans. Now, since this is my THIRD time to the lung show (and only his first go-round with me), I told him: "Oh, just give me a couple of weeks. I'll blow your mind." Again...was that too much? See? I cannot help myself. He is just SO hot that everything that comes tumbling out of my stupid mouth sounds like a proposition. EVERYTHING. It's sobering when he starts talking about his wife. Right. WIFE.
Ok- back to lungs: In an effort to get off of these dumb steroids, I managed to convince my lung team to reduce their original 180 day taper to 90 days. My justification was: "Well, if my lungs crap out again, we'll find out even sooner." Of course, my doctor asked: "UM, so Yvette, remind me of what is it that you do for the UW?" "Get shit done." was my reply.
Now, that's some big talk considering I truly believed I would do just fine. I trusted that my lungs would be good team players and come through for me. Apparently I was wrong. And I suspect the debate will begin again. Already Shustov has declared it an infection. I called bullshit on it- and wasn't flirting either...And so he is now bringing in the lung team to also weigh in.
Rather than worry about the fate of my lungs, today I managed to shimmy into my favorite yoga capri pants. Did my 20 minute treadmill warm up and got through Carol's "work out" regime. I DID call SCCA to chat with nurse Beatrice per Shustov's instructions to get some plan in place for my lungs. And now the clock starts to run. Do I continue the taper? Do they up the steroids and have to undergo that whole process again? Will they increase my dosage of my beloved Ativan to compliment the inevitable sleeplessness that comes with steroids???
Who knows? All I have to say is: LET THE GAMES BEGIN.
