Where Do We Go From Here?

I didn't think I would need to use this blog again for the original purpose for which it was intended, but unfortunately I am mistaken. In June, 2009, I had surgery to remove a cancerous tumor, but there was a clear margin, meaning all cancerous lymph nodes (14 out of 22 from the tumor) had been removed. After that came nearly 8 months of chemotherapy. But after that I felt fine and went in for regular exams and blood tests. For awhile my blood tests were great. In fact after one in particular, my doctor said in almost all measures, I not only met good standard measures, I blew them away. But when the last couple of tests caused concern, a PET scan was prescribed.

I had the scan on Monday, not nearly as bad of an experience as I thought. The machine was a little roomier and shorter than I envisioned so I didn't have the "confined" feeling that I feared I would. It lasted a half hour, which is also shorter than I had imagined. I think I was confusing MRI stories with PET scans (and so were certain hospital schedulers who were "trying" to assist me by giving me information more in line with MRI's).

Tuesday night my personal doctor, Dr. Beusse (Say "bus" and "e") called with the results. He never said the word "cancer" but he did say that I had "increased activity" in my groin area. As the PET scan allows visual activity of body cells, it is easier to determine which ones, if any, are cancerous by the speed of their movement. Later I wondered, "If I have this going on in my left groin, what kind of cancer might that be - "groinal" cancer?

Dr. Beusse's first thoughts were that surgery and chemo would be required. We hung up with that thought in my mind. I did have about 5 seconds of a Nancy Kerrigan "Why me?" moment, but that quickly passed. During that 5 seconds, I did wonder how could I be as healthy as a horse for 55 years of my life with nothing worse than a couple of minor broken bones (chipped bones, really - OK, some of you know that one was caused when I fell out of an apple tree), a bunch of coughs and sniffles, and some minor allergies and then have what's happened to me in the last 21 months happen so fast? Why am I suddenly falling apart? But I'm past that now and focusing on winning Round 2. I like to think I won Round 1 but my opponent has sneaked in a punch to start Round 2.

About 15 minutes after Dr. Beusse's first call, he called back to say that in the meantime he had talked to an associate of my surgeon (but not to my surgeon, Dr. Ondrula, directly) and also to an associate of my oncologist (but not to my oncologoist, Dr. Y, directly). Their consensus was that given the PET Scan results, surgery should not be necessary as the chemo alone should be sufficient to kill those cells.

That made me feel better, as did calling family members to share what was going on. I think talking about it with those who love me was very therapeutic. The next day I shared with some of my co-workers but was careful to point out that it's not guaranteed that I may not need surgery. That's just opinion at this point.

Today (Thursday, Christmas Eve Eve) Dr. Beusse called me again to say that he since had talked to Dr. Y and shared with him his feelings that he (Dr. Beusse) thought it best for me to have surgery to remove the block of cells all at once and then have chemo to increase my chances and hopefully reduce likelihood for recurrence again. But he did say that Dr. Y will ultimately decide what he thinks is best, though the final decision on a course of action will of course be mine. I will want Dr. Ondrula's opinion in this, as I greatly respect his opinions and expertise.

I have scheduled an appointment with Dr. Y for next Tuesday to get his opinion and develop a plan for what will happen. Also that night and well into the day on Wednesday I am having a sleep study to confirm and deal with my sleep apnea (that's a whole other blog topic). So even though I am off work next week, I will be busy.

Emotionally I'm doing OK right now, certainly better than during those "5 seconds". I am not looking forward to the prospect of having surgery again, but if that is my best chance to not only beat those pesky cells and win Round 2 but hopefully prevent Round 3, then I would be foolish not to consider it. So Cyndy, make sure your Aflac cancer insurance (which was very important to us during Round 1) is paid up. We're going to need it again. And in my worst Muhammed Ali impression, "This nasty cancer thinks that its time again is due. But I'm going to whup that sucker in Round 2." Please keep me in your prayers.