In case you haven’t already figured it out from my previous
post my mood is in need of a serious overhaul.
For the last few days I’ve been in the dumps. Getting out of the bed in the morning takes extreme effort some days, and to be honest, there are days I don't even try. It’s like that sometimes you know? This cancer journey is emotionally a roller coaster
ride that has to be taken all the way through to the end, and it’s a bumpy ride. I’ve been worried because I found
what felt like a lump in the puffy skin right under my right breast, same
breast with the cancerous tumor, and I’ve been seriously hoping and praying it’s scar tissue from the
surgery in July. And I've been worrying about the additional chemo and radiation therapy needed. Well, yesterday I had a CT-Scan
and chest x-ray which was previously scheduled in preparation for my last line
of therapy for the pancreas, called the Virginia Mason Protocol, which consists of me wearing a
fanny pack with tubes attached to my port that injects a drug called 5-FU
(a.k.a. Fluorouracil) automatically every hour, and radiation therapy 5 days a week with chemo on Wednesdays combined with
hydration – an all day process. The
intent is to hit me hard for 5-6 weeks straight or until I drop, whichever comes
first. The objective: destroy any cancer cells that may be hiding without killing me in the process. Okay, I'm officially rambling now and need to back up.
So my sister Lisa and I are sitting in Dr.
Picozzi’s office – and I’m so glad she’s with me by the way -- while he looks over my recent
CT and x-ray and I’m nervous as hell because I’m anticipating him telling me the cancer
has spread to the area beneath my breast.
He looks at me, his expression a little bit more serious than I’ve seen
it, and my heart speeds up a few beats. “Well,”
he asks, “how have you been feeling since the surgery, better or worse than before?”
I take in a deep breath of air and respond.
“I feel better than I did before.”
Still giving a whole lot of attention to what he’s viewing on the computer
screen he says, “Good.” Okay, okay, okay, so I'm wondering what is going to come out
of his mouth that will turn me inside out? I didn’t have long to wait. “So,” he starts again, “everything looks good
except for something strange that showed up on the CT-Scan.” Something strange? I’m holding my
breath. “Several spots have shown up in
your liver and uh…they don’t look like cancer, however after showing them to
Dr. Roca as well, we’re not sure what they are. A biopsy should tell us if it's cancer.” Wait. What? I don’t know what to say, so I say
nothing. Fear will do that to you,
completely rob you of the ability to speak or think. Funny, now the Virginia Mason protocol seems like a trip to the beach.
I tell him about my lump discovery and he
examines me but doesn’t find anything concerning. I should be happy about that but my feelings
are in a tail spin because of the spots on the liver news. Dr. Picozzi completes his examination, I sit
up, and he gives me a hug which I'm sure is to comfort his patient whom he assumes (correctly) is quaking on the inside. He’s such a rarity, an amazing doctor who
still works with his heart first and combines that with a whole lot of skill
and conviction. He tells me the nurse will call to schedule a biopsy. I say ok.
But my stomach is sick when I walk out of his office, down the hall,
into the elevator and to the street. My
sister is talking about something, buying a purse maybe, but all I want to do
is get on the bus and head home, to my room and the comfort of my bed. Lisa, never a blow-smoke-up-the-bum type of gal, doesn't even try to placate me by telling me everything will be okay because she knows me better than that. I don't want to hear that this is going to be ok, because I know cancer can take on a life of its own when it does its thing, and sometimes it is not okay. Being positive is very important, darn near medicinal -- I truly believe that, but you can be positive while still being realistic about the possibilities. I will wait for the results of the biopsy to see what's what.
In the meantime, I will lean heavily on faith, and pray, a lot.
I will pray for my roomy and dear sister, that she is revitalized with good health, my best friend, Mary, for healing of M.S., for Shannon, who is going through so much and I pray that her cancer goes away and stays away. I pray for Terrence, for a strong and healthy heart, and for Rip, that they find out what is making him ill so that he can be successfully treated and free of pain. I pray for Lonella that she is free of pain with improved health, and Andrella, that she does what is needed for herself to maintain good health. I pray for Josh's mom and dad, that they will find peace and healing from the pain of their terrible loss. I pray for my friend Jennifer's Aunt Margaret, that her cancer goes into remission and stays in remission. I pray for Bobbe, Orpha and Kris, that they continue to be healthy and cancer free. I pray for continued good health and happiness for all of my friends, family and colleagues, and complete wellness for anyone out in the world suffering from a debilitating illness. Amen.
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