The Walk

The day after Thanksgiving was a crisp sunny day, so while Doug put up outdoor Christmas lights and the girls were unloading the overly packed dishwasher, I put on my hooded sweatshirt and sleeveless down jacket, gloves and walking shoes and headed out to walk over 4 miles to and from the post office. I've done this in the past before I was sick, and have inevitably called to be picked up on my way back.

I started out down into town with a lively step, pockets stuffed with tissue, chap stick, a water bottle, keys, phone and ipod. I was set. About a mile into it I stopped into our medical building to use the restroom, then off again. Getting a little warm, took off my gloves and shoved them in another pocket. I wound through the older neighborhoods of town, across the railroad tracks, past the antique store and the police station, then the last stretch to the post office. Everyone else going in from their cars, unaware of the feat I feel I've accomplished. I called home, Andi answered giggling expecting me to be calling for a ride. I said, "no I'm fine, I just wanted to call to say I got all the way here, and got no mail." We made a pact that she'd meet me at the church a mile from our home if need be.

The sun was now beating against my back on the way home, but I couldn't take my jacket off because of everything strategically placed in my pockets. Further down the street past the antique barn again, the fire station and boutiques, I popped into the coffee shop for another potty break, it was loud with people laughing and talking, and the smell of coffee was strong. This was usually the time I would call home for a ride, but not this time. Off again, I turned right and started the gentle uphill walk across the railroad tracks, up to the stop light where I crossed over where walk uphill was even more steep. I was hot and sweaty when some friends drove up and offered me a ride home. "Thanks, but I'm really determined to make it." I made it past the medical building walking step by step, breathing heavily, looking ahead to the light where that church is, setting my sites on it. Once I got there I stopped, smiled, and continued on past barking dogs on the other side of a fence, then across the boulevard cutting through the open space between homes, back into our neighborhood, still uphill, huffing and puffing. Another friend pulled over saying she was impressed when she saw me trudging up the hill as she had gone into town earlier. A little more chit chat then I rounded the corner onto our street, walking one foot in front of the other, smiling knowing I made it. It took an hour and a half. Doug was just climbing back into the upstairs window finishing up the lights. Our dog, Logan, ran out to greet me. Doug and the girls congratulated me. After I caught my breath, the first thing was a shower, the second was a plate with an encore of dinner the day before, just smaller portions.

It's a couple days later, and I'm feeling it in my bones but am proud of what I did, and am kinda anxious to do it again, next time with one less jacket.

Giving Thanks

Well, it took longer than it should have, but finally the results of the comparisons on the CT-scans got done, and we're thankful to find out that there's been no major changes in those abnormalities in my liver and are likely benign cysts. So I'm now just dealing with my new crop of hair growing back in (a little darker unfortunately), the numbness still in my feet, and continuing to train my new system, which from what I hear from my doctors is further along at this point than most patients who've gone through the same procedure.

So 16 months after my initial diagnosis, the skunk is now dead. As our dear Dr. Acker said at the beginning of all this, fighting cancer is like trying to kill a skunk with a baseball bat... you'd better kill it with the first swing – and we did.

Happy Thanksgiving to all! It certainly is.

CT Scan results

We met with Dr. Basche today to go over the CT scan results. Her first words were that everything looked great. But then she mentioned there are several small (4mm) abnormalities that showed up in my liver, but that they were there a year ago in my initial CT scan, and don't seem to have changed or grown. Because of that she doesn't think there's anything to worry about, and that they're probably benign cysts which are small pockets of fluid that are common. And since I've been off chemo since last April, they would be 1 or 2 cm by now if they were cancer.

My liver function is normal, as well as my white and red blood counts, and platelets; and my tumor marker levels are very low, which all indicate everything is good, but there is slight concern with these abnormalities.

The plan of action is that she ordered a comparison of the 3 CT scans I've had, and depending on those results I'll either go in for another CT scan in 3 or 6 months. Regardless, I do go back to see her in 3 months, and every 3-6 months thereafter, until I'm 5 years cured, then it will stretch to once a year.

Follow-up CT scan

Today was my follow up CT scan from chest to pelvis. At 7am, an hour and a half prior, I had to drink less than a quart of an oral contrast agent that contains dilute barium. This helps the radiologist identify the gastrointestinal tract (stomach, small and large bowel), detect abnormalities of these organs, and to separate these structures from other structures within the abdomen. The taste wasn't nearly as bad as I expected, it was like a thick, weak vanilla milkshake with just a little chaulkiness to it. It went down pretty easily. I'm glad I thought to put it in the refrigerator the night before.

Off to the hospital by 8am, checked in at admitting, then back to Radiology Waiting. Pete, my technician, came for me before I was even done with the last bit of paperwork. Then back to put in an IV, and then back to the room with the CT scanner.

The CT scanner looks like a large donut with a narrow table in the middle. I didn't even have to change into a hospital gown, just took off my shoes and laid down on my back on the table. I moved through the scanner feet first with arms over my head 3 times, remaining motionless the whole time except for when it instructed me to hold my breath and then breathe again. Then Pete released the iodine into my IV and I instantly felt a warmth in my face and mouth, down my body and into my pelvis. It also gave a slight taste in my mouth, but nothing bad. Then through the machine two more times, holding and releasing my breath when it said so. And that was IT... the entire procedure, including set-up, the scan, and removing the IV, took less than 15 minutes.

Results take a few hours, and they'll be sent over to Dr. Basche. We could call tomorrow for them, but we meet with her in two days on Friday anyway, and she'll go over them with us. I expect nothing but good news. Right?!

P.S. The results of the ulcer biopsy came back, and there was "no evidence of cancer, or abnormalities." Whew!