My days consist of the same, daily routine. I try to walk, depending on this fickle weather which is, at times, too cold, too windy, too muddy. Our regular winter weather. The monotony is only broken by short trips to the Organic store, Post Office and other errands. My light, happy moments come in the form of my little buddy. We do his 4th Grade homework together and then visit. (Are you smarter than a 5th Grader?) I find 4th Grade Math to be a challenge!! So different and strange from my days.) We’ve been friends for 10 years now. Practically since his birth. He says, we may not be related by blood but certainly by heart. Ahh. He does my my heart good.
I try not to be gone very long as I am waiting for the phone call from Denver. Two days ago, even after careful plotting my time, I came home just in time to hear a voice on the answering machine. Quickly I lifted the phone to my ear and it was Dr. D.’s Assistant.
But, not to give a date for surgery but to request that I call Grand Junction Pavilion, to set up an appointment for a new CT scan. As it turns out, the much lauded (and costly) PET, was an inferior view of the needed tumor position. I was to have this CT a.s.a.p and then the disc FED EX’d to the surgical team.
I immediately called and got an appointment for Thursday morning. Since I was not allowed to have any food nor drink 4 hours prior to the scan, I awoke at 3:45 A.M without an alarm clock. My brain and system at the ready for a fast breakfast as the interval would be very long until I could have sustenance. And, boy, do I need my sustenance. So. I cooked a bucket of Oatmeal and had a cup of tea and then coffee for good measure. Punctually at 4:30 I ceased shoving anything in.
Outside, the wind rattled and tore at the bare tree limbs. As soon as it was light, the clouds chased each other over the horizon. I really would’ve rather stayed home, on such a day. When I watched the news and weather, the report of strong winds and snow stressed me out.
Punctually at 7:30 A.M my friend Inge B. came to pick me up to drive to Grand Junction and be with me. As so many times before. Never complaining. Never using an excuse of not being able to do this kind deed. Monika had to work, so she had to miss out on this grand adventure.
We arrived early and were shown to the waiting area. There we settled in to wait for whatever would come next. What came next, were two women, who upon seeing me broke out in happy greeting and surprised exclamation. They were from Rangely. I had not seen them, in over 20 years. I said, I recognize you. I just can’t place you. Oh… I know. Rangely, right? You’ve friended me on Facebook, right?
Nancy has been fighting cancer for 12 years now. Has a port inserted in her chest for easier access of whatever needs to be pushed through. Her, daughter, who was in school with my son, faithfully goes with her, each time. Soon, the Radiologist came in with a huge, paper cup and gave each of us the ‘drink’. Gatorade with other tastes. Nasty stuff for so early in the morning. But, dutifully we drank large sips and both of us, making a face and shuttering.
Soon after, I was escorted to the preparation room. Needles, plastic hose for the veine insert. Then, off to the scan room. Siemens machine. Nothing but the finest. Laying down on the gourney-bed, I looked up and saw two panels with azure sky and white, puffy clouds. Nice touch. PET people don’t have that one. Radiologist comes and shoots the dye into my veine. Just one minute later, a very warm feeling goes through your entire body. This sensation makes one feel, like urinating on oneself. Always worries me, that I accidently would do so. Then, the voice command to ‘inhale’ hold your breath…………. breath. After about 15 minutes we are done. Needle is removed. (Thank God, I have good veines.)
By now it’s after 11:00 A.M and I am starving. Off we go to Apple Bee’s and celebrate with a big salad. Now, we wait, again. Meanwhile, my son is flying in on Tuesday. Everyone getting ready. I am somewhat antsy about the whole thing. Since I am feeling so well, I wonder how I’ll feel, afterwards. I manage to surpress worries and creepy fear during the day. But, the brain won’t be deprived of this ecclectic fodder. I dreamed: I was in the hospital, a day prior to surgery. A very efficient nurse came in, rolling a cart ahead of her.
On this cart was a long line of injections. Needles of various sizes. She looks at me and declares firmly, all these 20 shots need to be given within the next 20 minutes. All in preparation for the bag you need to wear after surgery. I woke, heart pounding and terrified that this could be a reality.
Nowhere that I can run. I am tethered to the hospital like with an umbilical cord.
I wonder, if my CA 125 has gone down more points, again? I wonder, if that would be enough to stall chemo.
I belong to a closed, Facebook Support group. Women with Ovarian Cancer. Some of them, like me, survivors of previous cancer. Many of them, like me also, have recurrence. They are very researched, knowledgeable about any and every form of chemo and radiation. They comment on their treatment. They comment on their hugely, elevated CA 125 (Blood test) numbers. Into the Thousands!! One lady’s numbers have gone up to 9000!!! The whole, horrible misery of this disease. Their cancer, unlike mine, goes rampant, aggressive and very fast. It’s in their liver, colon, lung, pancreas and other terminal places. They fear for their very lives and some, have lost the battle and their sons, daughters or other family member will post of their passing. The raw pain of their grief is more than I can bear.
I’ve decided, not to go to this site, for awhile. This is too scary and too close for comfort. I don’t want to have their painful echo and terror in my brain. I feel much compassion but this sucks energy and positivity from me. I fervently hope that they survive.
Meanwhile. I am continuing on my course. Healthful meals. Walks. Tumeric and Curcumin. I have added Black Raspberries and lemon loaded water (Alkalizing). Maybe just pitiful attempts to ward off the beast. But, so far, I have. I have done amazingly well and I’m holding on to that with all my might.