Hee-hee, they couldn't do the biopsy -- that one big nodule was SMALLER, alot smaller....no lung biopsy for me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
:D
I think there's still some pulmonary nodules sprinkled around in there (I was pretty out of it yesterday, used my Ativan quite liberally) and I'm sure there will be some scan comparison, yada yada (why yes, I did just "yada-yada" CAT scans) but at this point it looks like the next course of action will be to just wait a while and scan again.
However, ringing in my ears over and over is what the pulmonologist said, "Cancer doesn't shrink all by itself" -- meaning as of right now this is VERY doubtfully cancer!!!!!!!!
:D
Don your party hats girls (and boys) -- let's have a virtual partay. I'll bring the wine and chocolate ;)
You know, I really do wish I could have a real party and invite all you lovely bloggy friends....seeing all your well wishes made me smile, made me cry, and made me feel so much less alone. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart (or should I say from the bottom of my as of now cancer-free lungs!!!!!)
I've got an appointment but wanted to post this ASAP.
Have a wonderful day....I know I will :)
Showing posts with label lung metastasis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lung metastasis. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
MIA, lung biopsy tomorrow
Apparently I'm collecting biopsies -- hey, it'll be all the rage, just you wait and see. I've had two since my last post, ones I don't even think I mentioned were a possibility -- a simple skin biopsy for a recently suspicious mole on my foot and a biopsy of my reconstructed breast. I discovered some lumps in the breast and had them ultrasounded months ago, but they lit up on one of my many scans so off for a biopsy I went.
Thankfully both of these were benign.
Let's hope that good news wagon keeps on rolling because tomorrow is the BIG ONE, the lung biopsy. It will be done with a needle, and guided by some sort of imaging (more radiation!) -- but there is almost a 50/50 chance of lung collapse which really freaks me out. I'm told it is often not a big deal, that only rarely is a chest tube needed (2%)...but just the idea of it all has me scared out of my wits.
So scared, in fact, that I've been deep, deep in denial about the whole thing. I haven't even given it much of a thought until tonight at the eleventh hour, if you will. I also haven't written a word, poetic, fiction or blog-wise, in ages. Writer's block is a sure sign I'm in pure animal survival mode, off hiding someplace and licking my metaphoric and soon-to-be all too real wounds. I'm not sure silence is good for me so despite the fact that I want to pull the covers up tighter over my head I came here. I need to shed some light into the dark places.
And to that end, this is what I'm hoping: I'm hoping that when I arrive at the hospital tomorrow and they set up all the machines and start scanning me to find that one large nodule that the radiologist thinks he can "get" that it is magically gone. After that they'll keep scanning and all the little nodules will have disappeared, must have been some sort of mysterious inflamation due to the pneumonia I may or may not have had. Nothing to biopsy, sorry to waste your time, you can go home now.
The pulmonary guy I saw at Sloan Kettering last week thinks that is what this is, just some residual inflamation. My oncologist keeps saying this can't be metastasis, it just can't be, as if she is practically willing it not to be. My 47th birthday is in less than two weeks. I really need to have something to celebrate this year.
Keep your fingers crossed for me, 'kay? Oh, and as usual, to all my dear friends new & old, call me bitch for luck ;)
Thankfully both of these were benign.
Let's hope that good news wagon keeps on rolling because tomorrow is the BIG ONE, the lung biopsy. It will be done with a needle, and guided by some sort of imaging (more radiation!) -- but there is almost a 50/50 chance of lung collapse which really freaks me out. I'm told it is often not a big deal, that only rarely is a chest tube needed (2%)...but just the idea of it all has me scared out of my wits.
So scared, in fact, that I've been deep, deep in denial about the whole thing. I haven't even given it much of a thought until tonight at the eleventh hour, if you will. I also haven't written a word, poetic, fiction or blog-wise, in ages. Writer's block is a sure sign I'm in pure animal survival mode, off hiding someplace and licking my metaphoric and soon-to-be all too real wounds. I'm not sure silence is good for me so despite the fact that I want to pull the covers up tighter over my head I came here. I need to shed some light into the dark places.
And to that end, this is what I'm hoping: I'm hoping that when I arrive at the hospital tomorrow and they set up all the machines and start scanning me to find that one large nodule that the radiologist thinks he can "get" that it is magically gone. After that they'll keep scanning and all the little nodules will have disappeared, must have been some sort of mysterious inflamation due to the pneumonia I may or may not have had. Nothing to biopsy, sorry to waste your time, you can go home now.
The pulmonary guy I saw at Sloan Kettering last week thinks that is what this is, just some residual inflamation. My oncologist keeps saying this can't be metastasis, it just can't be, as if she is practically willing it not to be. My 47th birthday is in less than two weeks. I really need to have something to celebrate this year.
Keep your fingers crossed for me, 'kay? Oh, and as usual, to all my dear friends new & old, call me bitch for luck ;)
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Going nuts...
I wish there was upbeat or even definitive news to share, but there’s not.
I wish I could say I am doing well in the interim, but I’m not.
The doctors, in their infinite wisdom, have now decided that I should wait for at least a few more weeks before scheduling the lung biopsy. This is likely because A) they’re hoping the pulmonary nodules will have shrunk and/or disappeared, or B) they will have grown, thus making an accurate biopsy easier. Let’s go with option A, shall we? Either way, while the waiting is nerve wracking I’m not complaining…the idea of having my lungs poked with a needle isn’t something I’m chomping at the bit to experience. I can wait.
On the other hand, emotionally I feel like I’m falling slowly into a pit. I don’t sleep well, even with pharmaceutical aid, and I cry at the drop of a hat. Some days are almost normal, shockingly so, actually. But then there are days when I just can’t seem to control my emotions for even a minute.
What’s probably not helping is that I’ve now got two injections for ovarian ablation under my belt….(literally, that’s where they give you the shot, in your lower abdomen)…and I’ve been taking Arimidex, the estrogen blocking drug I’ll be on for at least the next five years. While I was in “chemopause” before, I suspect that this new hormonal deficit has pushed me a bit over the edge. No estrogen, no mood control at the moment.
To top it all off lymphedema has acted up in earnest…I now have visible swelling in my lower arm. I am not handling that well...it just freaks me out. But I keep doing my home care, even tho it’s not having any effect. I can’t do simple activities in the way I’m accustomed to and it is making me feel suddenly very old, as if piece by piece life as I once knew it has been chipped away.
The one year anniversary of my mastectomy was July 27th. I remember last year as I laid there on the operating table waiting to go under the anesthesia I tried to stay focused on the future, almost as if willing myself to be fast forwarded to a time beyond what I was about to endure. I comforted myself with the promise that by the same time next year it would all be behind me…that in whatever shape I was left physically at least the cancer journey would be over.
Not so. Maybe that was a foolish idea anyway.
You know, I probably could have written the shortest entry in my entire blogging history by just saying this: things totally suck.
I’m sorry for the long absence, and now the totally depressing post, but that’s pretty much what’s going on in a nutshell. A really crappy little nutshell.
I wish I could say I am doing well in the interim, but I’m not.
The doctors, in their infinite wisdom, have now decided that I should wait for at least a few more weeks before scheduling the lung biopsy. This is likely because A) they’re hoping the pulmonary nodules will have shrunk and/or disappeared, or B) they will have grown, thus making an accurate biopsy easier. Let’s go with option A, shall we? Either way, while the waiting is nerve wracking I’m not complaining…the idea of having my lungs poked with a needle isn’t something I’m chomping at the bit to experience. I can wait.
On the other hand, emotionally I feel like I’m falling slowly into a pit. I don’t sleep well, even with pharmaceutical aid, and I cry at the drop of a hat. Some days are almost normal, shockingly so, actually. But then there are days when I just can’t seem to control my emotions for even a minute.
What’s probably not helping is that I’ve now got two injections for ovarian ablation under my belt….(literally, that’s where they give you the shot, in your lower abdomen)…and I’ve been taking Arimidex, the estrogen blocking drug I’ll be on for at least the next five years. While I was in “chemopause” before, I suspect that this new hormonal deficit has pushed me a bit over the edge. No estrogen, no mood control at the moment.
To top it all off lymphedema has acted up in earnest…I now have visible swelling in my lower arm. I am not handling that well...it just freaks me out. But I keep doing my home care, even tho it’s not having any effect. I can’t do simple activities in the way I’m accustomed to and it is making me feel suddenly very old, as if piece by piece life as I once knew it has been chipped away.
The one year anniversary of my mastectomy was July 27th. I remember last year as I laid there on the operating table waiting to go under the anesthesia I tried to stay focused on the future, almost as if willing myself to be fast forwarded to a time beyond what I was about to endure. I comforted myself with the promise that by the same time next year it would all be behind me…that in whatever shape I was left physically at least the cancer journey would be over.
Not so. Maybe that was a foolish idea anyway.
You know, I probably could have written the shortest entry in my entire blogging history by just saying this: things totally suck.
I’m sorry for the long absence, and now the totally depressing post, but that’s pretty much what’s going on in a nutshell. A really crappy little nutshell.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Holding pattern
In the ten days since my last post I've seen and/or talked to several doctors. Bloodwork, scans and reports are being passed around between radiologists, oncologists and pulmonologists (that's alot of "gists" isn't it?)....and some decision will be made this week or next as to when I'll have the lung biopsy. I do know that they will try to do a guided needle aspiration type thing and sample the largest of my pulmonary nodules, but it is only 9mm, so if that doesn't work they have to go in a little more invasively, doing a procedure called VATS (video-assisted thorascopic surgery). Let's hope that is not necessary.
Meanwhile I am all over the map emotionally. I have good moments when I can actually put this aside and function almost normally, even laugh a little or enjoy myself somewhat. Then in the blink of an eye I can just as easily plummet down to the depths of despair.
It's just so hard to believe that this could be happening. Even more so because it has certainly been one thing after another for quite a while now, to an almost ridiculous point. For the last year, each time I went thru something difficult, like waiting for the diagnosis or trying to choose what type of surgery to have...facing the skin necrosis...enduring chemo...each time I would try and focus on a spot in the future when it would be over. But I have yet to get to that place, as my readers well know, because something else always seems to happen. When I'm done with one disaster I barely have a moment to take a breath before I'm trying to get thru another calamity, one day at a time.
I'd like to say that I've learned from this not to put life on hold, to live in the moment. And to some degree I suppose I have gotten a bit better at that. But these relentless issues each feel so acute that it's hard not to become all-consumed by them.
So here I am, nearing the one year anniversary of my mastectomy (7/27) and I don't feel in the least like I've been able to put any of this behind me, even a little. In fact, I think these unending medical issues have dramatically had the opposite effect, I've barely even scratched the surface of dealing emotionally with the fundamentals -- like that I have cancer in the first place, or that I "lost" a breast.
(You know, I am not all that fond of saying I lost my breast -- for one thing it sounds like I misplaced it and the thing could eventually turn up...and for another, I did have reconstruction and tho that didn't turn out as planned there's still a reasonable facsimile of a breast on my chest, albeit much the worse for wear.)
Anyway...
I'm holding on as best I can and some days, heck, some minutes, it's harder than others. Today as I read the numerous well-wishes on the comments of my last post I felt lighter, a little stronger. That's a HUGE blessing. To all of you who made that happen, my deepest gratitude. You've made so much of this saga more tolerable, no small feat, I assure you. Thank you.
Meanwhile I am all over the map emotionally. I have good moments when I can actually put this aside and function almost normally, even laugh a little or enjoy myself somewhat. Then in the blink of an eye I can just as easily plummet down to the depths of despair.
It's just so hard to believe that this could be happening. Even more so because it has certainly been one thing after another for quite a while now, to an almost ridiculous point. For the last year, each time I went thru something difficult, like waiting for the diagnosis or trying to choose what type of surgery to have...facing the skin necrosis...enduring chemo...each time I would try and focus on a spot in the future when it would be over. But I have yet to get to that place, as my readers well know, because something else always seems to happen. When I'm done with one disaster I barely have a moment to take a breath before I'm trying to get thru another calamity, one day at a time.
I'd like to say that I've learned from this not to put life on hold, to live in the moment. And to some degree I suppose I have gotten a bit better at that. But these relentless issues each feel so acute that it's hard not to become all-consumed by them.
So here I am, nearing the one year anniversary of my mastectomy (7/27) and I don't feel in the least like I've been able to put any of this behind me, even a little. In fact, I think these unending medical issues have dramatically had the opposite effect, I've barely even scratched the surface of dealing emotionally with the fundamentals -- like that I have cancer in the first place, or that I "lost" a breast.
(You know, I am not all that fond of saying I lost my breast -- for one thing it sounds like I misplaced it and the thing could eventually turn up...and for another, I did have reconstruction and tho that didn't turn out as planned there's still a reasonable facsimile of a breast on my chest, albeit much the worse for wear.)
Anyway...
I'm holding on as best I can and some days, heck, some minutes, it's harder than others. Today as I read the numerous well-wishes on the comments of my last post I felt lighter, a little stronger. That's a HUGE blessing. To all of you who made that happen, my deepest gratitude. You've made so much of this saga more tolerable, no small feat, I assure you. Thank you.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Dodging bullets
I’ve read the last CT report myself now. It's not good. The original nodules “decreased in size and/or conspicuity compared to the last CT”. I take that to mean they might have decreased in size, or they may just be inconspicuous at the moment – like they could still be there exactly the same and are just not obvious this time around. But either way, the next part is what’s more important: “Bilateral pulmonary nodules, the majority of which were not present on the prior examination of 5/19/10, suspicious for (parenchymal) metastases.”
That word is on a report with my name on it -- metastases.
These new nodules came up quick…in less than 5 weeks. They have all appeared shortly after chemo, so despite all that poison pumped into my body they managed to develop.
I think I’m screwed.
From the day I first found the lumps there was a little part of me that thought I wasn’t going to live to be that ripe old age I once believed was a given. Yeah sure, everyone talks about how breast cancer is so treatable, that’s it’s practically a chronic disease. But that’s just media hype…it’s what people want to believe. And the idea certainly was that chemo would hopefully take care of any possibility for distant spread. Of course the truth they don’t want you to understand is that chemo only helps in about 30% of cases.
I guess it looks like I’m probably in that other 70%.
Once you have cancer you don’t take too much about life for granted. But still, I thought I’d have more disease-free time, you know? My fondest, most deepest wish was that I’d get to be around long enough so that Megan and Daniel would be grown up and on their own. But in my own mind, based on nothing scientific, I felt like it was a reasonable expectation to have 10 years. Okay, bare minimum was to have at least 5 solid years...by then Daniel would be Megan’s age now and I think she understands what she needs to in order to get thru what comes next…as much as any child can. But this is all happening way sooner than I thought…my Danny is still a baby to me now…not even 4 yet. It’s too soon for things to start going bad. I realized yesterday that I’ve been dealing with this for half his little life, he doesn’t remember a cancer-free mom. I wanted him to have more of a life with me being well. Every time I look at him, at both of them, my heart shatters and I cry. They’ve seen too many tears. Meggie keeps saying she thinks it will be okay. That it wouldn’t be fair if it wasn’t. How do I explain to a barely 9 year old child that life isn’t always fair, in fact, it can be incredibly, cruelly unfair?
If this is a metastasis then it is also fast growing and it sure didn’t seem to be effected by chemo. All that poison and these things popped up anyway. So while there are women who still manage to live for a “decent” amount of time with metastatic breast cancer, if you ask me, these fast growing suckers don’t bode well for me being one of them.
I had the PET scan Friday. The tech was a nice woman, we chatted about this and that beforehand, we had a few things in common. After the scan I swear her demeanor changed, but like she was trying to make sure it didn’t seem that way. Just like the mammogram tech’s manner changed last year, and the subsequent ultrasound tech…and then finally the radiologist doing the biopsy. They all knew but couldn’t say. I think the woman yesterday knew too.
But then again, maybe I’m crazy. I want to be crazy.
I can’t tell you how hard this is. I keep searching for some hope, I keep trying to figure out a way that this is not happening. Maybe this is not happening. I don’t want this to be happening. I find myself begging, please, don’t let this be happening.
I would like to keep hoping but I’m afraid to set myself up for being emotionally annihilated. And in my quiet moments of pure thought, like the center of a storm, the way this looks now is if by some miracle it turns out not to be lung metastasis I will have dodged the biggest bullet of a lifetime.
That word is on a report with my name on it -- metastases.
These new nodules came up quick…in less than 5 weeks. They have all appeared shortly after chemo, so despite all that poison pumped into my body they managed to develop.
I think I’m screwed.
From the day I first found the lumps there was a little part of me that thought I wasn’t going to live to be that ripe old age I once believed was a given. Yeah sure, everyone talks about how breast cancer is so treatable, that’s it’s practically a chronic disease. But that’s just media hype…it’s what people want to believe. And the idea certainly was that chemo would hopefully take care of any possibility for distant spread. Of course the truth they don’t want you to understand is that chemo only helps in about 30% of cases.
I guess it looks like I’m probably in that other 70%.
Once you have cancer you don’t take too much about life for granted. But still, I thought I’d have more disease-free time, you know? My fondest, most deepest wish was that I’d get to be around long enough so that Megan and Daniel would be grown up and on their own. But in my own mind, based on nothing scientific, I felt like it was a reasonable expectation to have 10 years. Okay, bare minimum was to have at least 5 solid years...by then Daniel would be Megan’s age now and I think she understands what she needs to in order to get thru what comes next…as much as any child can. But this is all happening way sooner than I thought…my Danny is still a baby to me now…not even 4 yet. It’s too soon for things to start going bad. I realized yesterday that I’ve been dealing with this for half his little life, he doesn’t remember a cancer-free mom. I wanted him to have more of a life with me being well. Every time I look at him, at both of them, my heart shatters and I cry. They’ve seen too many tears. Meggie keeps saying she thinks it will be okay. That it wouldn’t be fair if it wasn’t. How do I explain to a barely 9 year old child that life isn’t always fair, in fact, it can be incredibly, cruelly unfair?
If this is a metastasis then it is also fast growing and it sure didn’t seem to be effected by chemo. All that poison and these things popped up anyway. So while there are women who still manage to live for a “decent” amount of time with metastatic breast cancer, if you ask me, these fast growing suckers don’t bode well for me being one of them.
I had the PET scan Friday. The tech was a nice woman, we chatted about this and that beforehand, we had a few things in common. After the scan I swear her demeanor changed, but like she was trying to make sure it didn’t seem that way. Just like the mammogram tech’s manner changed last year, and the subsequent ultrasound tech…and then finally the radiologist doing the biopsy. They all knew but couldn’t say. I think the woman yesterday knew too.
But then again, maybe I’m crazy. I want to be crazy.
I can’t tell you how hard this is. I keep searching for some hope, I keep trying to figure out a way that this is not happening. Maybe this is not happening. I don’t want this to be happening. I find myself begging, please, don’t let this be happening.
I would like to keep hoping but I’m afraid to set myself up for being emotionally annihilated. And in my quiet moments of pure thought, like the center of a storm, the way this looks now is if by some miracle it turns out not to be lung metastasis I will have dodged the biggest bullet of a lifetime.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
It's not looking so good
There is news, not definitive news but not good news. Here’s what I know:
The 2nd pulmonary doc received the written CT report yesterday but not the film disc itself – he won’t get that until today or tomorrow. The report says the original nodules may have decreased in size, but that there are now many new ones. He wants to review the films himself but he did suggest it looks like I might need a lung biopsy.
Saw my oncologist today – a woman who is usually the type that thinks nothing is wrong, quick to blow things off. She’s not blowing this off. She wants me to have a guided needle biopsy. The problem is there are so many nodules now and they are very small. However one of the new ones is 9mm and the radiologist she spoke to thinks he can get a sample. There are risks…like collapsed lungs and maybe permanent damage of some sort. I don't know about all that yet.
Oncologist also wants a PET scan, not so much to look at the nodules further but to see if there is anything in my bones, liver or brain. Bottom line is if the cancer already spread to those places there’s no point in doing a lung biopsy too. Save me from an invasive test since I’m going to die anyway.
What’s the treatment for lung metastasis? Oncologist says nothing more than I’m doing now…ovarian ablation and estrogen blocking drugs. Since the cancer would have spread while I was on chemotherapy there’s not much point in doing more. I wonder if that’s true or if there are other drugs…clinical trials, experimental things.
There is still a slight chance this is nothing more than an inflammatory response of some sort to something, but no one wants to wait and see anymore.
This doesn’t look good right now. I have a really bad feeling.
Yet I also keep thinking it can’t be happening. I can’t really be dying. Not so soon. Women with breast cancer that metastasizes to the lung don’t typically make it past five years. And who’s to say what kind of quality of life one has during that time. What if this is really it, the beginning of the end? How do I do this??? How do I leave my babies??? HOW?
Gotta stop for now, sorry. Will post when I can.
The 2nd pulmonary doc received the written CT report yesterday but not the film disc itself – he won’t get that until today or tomorrow. The report says the original nodules may have decreased in size, but that there are now many new ones. He wants to review the films himself but he did suggest it looks like I might need a lung biopsy.
Saw my oncologist today – a woman who is usually the type that thinks nothing is wrong, quick to blow things off. She’s not blowing this off. She wants me to have a guided needle biopsy. The problem is there are so many nodules now and they are very small. However one of the new ones is 9mm and the radiologist she spoke to thinks he can get a sample. There are risks…like collapsed lungs and maybe permanent damage of some sort. I don't know about all that yet.
Oncologist also wants a PET scan, not so much to look at the nodules further but to see if there is anything in my bones, liver or brain. Bottom line is if the cancer already spread to those places there’s no point in doing a lung biopsy too. Save me from an invasive test since I’m going to die anyway.
What’s the treatment for lung metastasis? Oncologist says nothing more than I’m doing now…ovarian ablation and estrogen blocking drugs. Since the cancer would have spread while I was on chemotherapy there’s not much point in doing more. I wonder if that’s true or if there are other drugs…clinical trials, experimental things.
There is still a slight chance this is nothing more than an inflammatory response of some sort to something, but no one wants to wait and see anymore.
This doesn’t look good right now. I have a really bad feeling.
Yet I also keep thinking it can’t be happening. I can’t really be dying. Not so soon. Women with breast cancer that metastasizes to the lung don’t typically make it past five years. And who’s to say what kind of quality of life one has during that time. What if this is really it, the beginning of the end? How do I do this??? How do I leave my babies??? HOW?
Gotta stop for now, sorry. Will post when I can.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
What's new
Lung nodules -- back to square one…
We got a second opinion from another pulmonologist and he says something different than the first doctor – but of course. I need another CT scan to rule out a fast growing metastasis…which he thinks it will do, but still, I’m back to waiting and worrying again. Not that I wasn’t already doing that since I was in a holding pattern till September’s CT to see if the nodules grew anyway. But now I will have a scan sooner and hold my breath to see if they grew fast – which would be really, really bad. On the other hand, they could also have disappeared (she said w/fingers crossed) – which would be really, really good. Hopefully I can get the CT & answer next week. This second pulmonary guy is a cancer survivor himself so he won’t keep me waiting for results, at least on his part.
More medical stuff…
I’ve been having trouble with my eye…something called recurrent erosion. I had a corneal laceration about a dozen years ago that acts up sometimes – and it chose now to do so. My body has really bad timing lately. Understatement.
About that house we were buying…
It all fell thru, and truth be told we’re kinda relieved right now. It’s a long story (um, what isn’t in my life) and it came right down to the wire in a nail biting finale. But the bottom line is we’re way better off. For now we stay put.
However someone is moving…
My mother sold her house and is moving in a week! She’s renting an apartment until she finds the right condo. This has added some chaos as you can imagine. I am glad tho, as even her little house with it’s little yard was beginning to be a bit much for her to care for. Also, she’s going to try and find a place closer to us…it’s about a 40min drive to her town now.
Thus ends the updating…
Beyond that there’s not much to tell. Okay, that’s not really true…there’s always more to tell and I’m usually up for the job of telling it and then some. Lately tho I just feel sort of on hold and more than a little preoccupied. But I wanted to put up an entry since it's been a while and so I’ve filled it with all the newsy bits and probably little substance. It will have to do for now, better than nothing.
So, till next time, this is me hanging in there…waiting….
We got a second opinion from another pulmonologist and he says something different than the first doctor – but of course. I need another CT scan to rule out a fast growing metastasis…which he thinks it will do, but still, I’m back to waiting and worrying again. Not that I wasn’t already doing that since I was in a holding pattern till September’s CT to see if the nodules grew anyway. But now I will have a scan sooner and hold my breath to see if they grew fast – which would be really, really bad. On the other hand, they could also have disappeared (she said w/fingers crossed) – which would be really, really good. Hopefully I can get the CT & answer next week. This second pulmonary guy is a cancer survivor himself so he won’t keep me waiting for results, at least on his part.
More medical stuff…
I’ve been having trouble with my eye…something called recurrent erosion. I had a corneal laceration about a dozen years ago that acts up sometimes – and it chose now to do so. My body has really bad timing lately. Understatement.
About that house we were buying…
It all fell thru, and truth be told we’re kinda relieved right now. It’s a long story (um, what isn’t in my life) and it came right down to the wire in a nail biting finale. But the bottom line is we’re way better off. For now we stay put.
However someone is moving…
My mother sold her house and is moving in a week! She’s renting an apartment until she finds the right condo. This has added some chaos as you can imagine. I am glad tho, as even her little house with it’s little yard was beginning to be a bit much for her to care for. Also, she’s going to try and find a place closer to us…it’s about a 40min drive to her town now.
Thus ends the updating…
Beyond that there’s not much to tell. Okay, that’s not really true…there’s always more to tell and I’m usually up for the job of telling it and then some. Lately tho I just feel sort of on hold and more than a little preoccupied. But I wanted to put up an entry since it's been a while and so I’ve filled it with all the newsy bits and probably little substance. It will have to do for now, better than nothing.
So, till next time, this is me hanging in there…waiting….
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
It's not bad news...
Just got back from seeing the pulmonary doctor, and while it's not perfectly wonderful news, it is totally not bad news either.
Definitely NOT bad.
According to him based on the CT scan there is nothing about my pulmonary nodules at the moment that appear specifically cancerous. The plan is to wait and watch them. Sometimes pulmonary nodules are immediately suspicious and have clear cancerous characteristics such as irregular edges. In those instances they require biopsy or surgery for confirmation right away. But some nodules, like mine, don’t possess any obvious criteria that indicates cancer. Plus mine are small enough that doing a needle biopsy is challenging and no one wants to start slicing into my lungs if the little buggers are a big fat nothing. So instead they monitor them to see if they change, if they grow. These nodules could be completely benign, could have been there for years without me knowing it. But unfortunately a pulmonary nodule that doesn’t start off looking suspicious can also still end up being cancerous eventually.
So if these nodules stay the same size they are considered stable and not likely to be any kind of threat. If they grow…well, that would be bad. I will have a CT scan in 4 months. Assuming they haven’t grown then my understanding is the CT scans continue every 3 or 4 months for two years. After that if there is still no change they cut back the scans to once or twice a year. For how long I don’t know. Oh, and the doctor said if it weren’t for my breast cancer history we’d only do the scans every year right from the start – even tho I am a former smoker. So they are watching me more carefully which somehow makes me feel both better and worse, you know? Like I’m comforted to know they are on top of this but nervous they think that’s necessary.
Over all the doctor was very positive…said he really doesn’t think this will turn out to be cancer. However, when asked, he said he can’t say for sure it isn’t. But he did repeatedly stress that in his opinion it won’t go that way. I want to hear that from another doctor so I will be getting a second opinion, just to be thorough and to ease my mind a bit further.
Like I said – it’s totally not bad news. It’s almost good news. Short of finding out the little buggers had disappeared, it’s probably the best news I could hope for. I guess I should be happy, but I think I’m still sort of processing this…it hasn’t sunk in yet. I’ve been so upset, so terrified that I think my body hasn’t fully come down from high alert, if that makes sense. And despite the positive outlook of the doctor it's hard not to see this as one more thing hanging over my head.
I need a vacation.
Last but by far not least -- I’m going to post personally on the comments thread from my previous blog entry but wanted to say a big gigantic thank you here till I get a chance to do that. People talk about how strong I am – and if there’s any truth to that I can honestly say a huge source of that strength has been this blog and the astonishing people who come here and lend me their compassion, support and love. It’s hard to describe how a disparate group of essentially strangers can make such an amazing impact on one life…but you each have, you’ll never know how much. Everyone who has ever offered me their kindness has made a difference, has touched my heart when I needed it most. You are all important to me and have carried me along when I thought I couldn’t go on. Thank you…thank you…thank you.
Definitely NOT bad.
According to him based on the CT scan there is nothing about my pulmonary nodules at the moment that appear specifically cancerous. The plan is to wait and watch them. Sometimes pulmonary nodules are immediately suspicious and have clear cancerous characteristics such as irregular edges. In those instances they require biopsy or surgery for confirmation right away. But some nodules, like mine, don’t possess any obvious criteria that indicates cancer. Plus mine are small enough that doing a needle biopsy is challenging and no one wants to start slicing into my lungs if the little buggers are a big fat nothing. So instead they monitor them to see if they change, if they grow. These nodules could be completely benign, could have been there for years without me knowing it. But unfortunately a pulmonary nodule that doesn’t start off looking suspicious can also still end up being cancerous eventually.
So if these nodules stay the same size they are considered stable and not likely to be any kind of threat. If they grow…well, that would be bad. I will have a CT scan in 4 months. Assuming they haven’t grown then my understanding is the CT scans continue every 3 or 4 months for two years. After that if there is still no change they cut back the scans to once or twice a year. For how long I don’t know. Oh, and the doctor said if it weren’t for my breast cancer history we’d only do the scans every year right from the start – even tho I am a former smoker. So they are watching me more carefully which somehow makes me feel both better and worse, you know? Like I’m comforted to know they are on top of this but nervous they think that’s necessary.
Over all the doctor was very positive…said he really doesn’t think this will turn out to be cancer. However, when asked, he said he can’t say for sure it isn’t. But he did repeatedly stress that in his opinion it won’t go that way. I want to hear that from another doctor so I will be getting a second opinion, just to be thorough and to ease my mind a bit further.
Like I said – it’s totally not bad news. It’s almost good news. Short of finding out the little buggers had disappeared, it’s probably the best news I could hope for. I guess I should be happy, but I think I’m still sort of processing this…it hasn’t sunk in yet. I’ve been so upset, so terrified that I think my body hasn’t fully come down from high alert, if that makes sense. And despite the positive outlook of the doctor it's hard not to see this as one more thing hanging over my head.
I need a vacation.
Last but by far not least -- I’m going to post personally on the comments thread from my previous blog entry but wanted to say a big gigantic thank you here till I get a chance to do that. People talk about how strong I am – and if there’s any truth to that I can honestly say a huge source of that strength has been this blog and the astonishing people who come here and lend me their compassion, support and love. It’s hard to describe how a disparate group of essentially strangers can make such an amazing impact on one life…but you each have, you’ll never know how much. Everyone who has ever offered me their kindness has made a difference, has touched my heart when I needed it most. You are all important to me and have carried me along when I thought I couldn’t go on. Thank you…thank you…thank you.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Here I go again
I don’t want to post this. I don’t want to be this person, the one for which every thing seems to go wrong. But apparently I am.
A recent CT scan shows there are two nodules on my lungs. I don’t know much else right now because I went into shock when the oncologist told me last night. I vaguely remember asking about lung metastasis and her saying that this would need to be watched for the next couple years.
Years???
It almost sounds like I didn’t/don’t have pneumonia. I saw a pulmonary guy when I was first diagnosed with the pneumonia, and he’s the one that ordered the second CT which I understood was to rule out lung damage from chemo. I wasn’t all that concerned…I mean, it seemed more like a sickness kind of thing, I ran a bit of a fever and just a few days after the antibiotics were finished I felt better. Not all better, but significantly improved.
Now from the sound of what my oncologist said this might have nothing to do with that…or maybe it wasn’t pneumonia in the first place…or…I don’t know – I’m totally confused.
Thanks to Google I know some key questions to ask when I see the pulmonary guy again on Tuesday. I also now know that it’s very possible to have no definitive answers with pulmonary (lung) nodules as my oncologist seemed to be saying…that these may be in fact a wait and see, watch if they grow or change kind of thing.
I’m not sure I can take some kind of “wait and see” crap.
I’m not sure how to make it till Tuesday.
I’m not sure how much more of anything I can take.
I wish I could leave that last “cancer-free” blog entry up here. I wish I could still be the woman who posted that. But I’m not. Right now I don’t even feel like the woman who started this blog…I’m certainly not the woman I thought I’d be at this stage of my life.
I don’t know who I am. I just know I have two nodules on my lungs. And that I want to scream and smash something.
A recent CT scan shows there are two nodules on my lungs. I don’t know much else right now because I went into shock when the oncologist told me last night. I vaguely remember asking about lung metastasis and her saying that this would need to be watched for the next couple years.
Years???
It almost sounds like I didn’t/don’t have pneumonia. I saw a pulmonary guy when I was first diagnosed with the pneumonia, and he’s the one that ordered the second CT which I understood was to rule out lung damage from chemo. I wasn’t all that concerned…I mean, it seemed more like a sickness kind of thing, I ran a bit of a fever and just a few days after the antibiotics were finished I felt better. Not all better, but significantly improved.
Now from the sound of what my oncologist said this might have nothing to do with that…or maybe it wasn’t pneumonia in the first place…or…I don’t know – I’m totally confused.
Thanks to Google I know some key questions to ask when I see the pulmonary guy again on Tuesday. I also now know that it’s very possible to have no definitive answers with pulmonary (lung) nodules as my oncologist seemed to be saying…that these may be in fact a wait and see, watch if they grow or change kind of thing.
I’m not sure I can take some kind of “wait and see” crap.
I’m not sure how to make it till Tuesday.
I’m not sure how much more of anything I can take.
I wish I could leave that last “cancer-free” blog entry up here. I wish I could still be the woman who posted that. But I’m not. Right now I don’t even feel like the woman who started this blog…I’m certainly not the woman I thought I’d be at this stage of my life.
I don’t know who I am. I just know I have two nodules on my lungs. And that I want to scream and smash something.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Luckily, I have pneumonia
I guess chemo wanted to have one more parting shot at me. I've probably been battling this for a few weeks now but the doctor kept saying my symptoms (shortness of breath, slight chest pain) were side effects from the chemo. I should have insisted on getting things checked, but I wanted to believe her.
However a couple days ago I started to run a fever on and off and I realized that can't be good. The nurse practitioner thought ruling out a pulmonary embolism would be a good idea due to my genetic history and the CAT scan showed I have pneumonia instead. I should have listened to my gut and been more proactive.
I'm on antibiotics and resting...feeling pretty miserable. But compared to the last time I had pneumonia 9 years ago, this is a picnic. Although the end result last time was hard to beat :)
One thing after another on this journey, huh? It's almost hard to fathom. Yet recently there have been a few women I know of in the breast cancer community that have received more troubling news of varying degrees. So when I went back to the doctor's office after learning the CAT scan showed no blood clot and the doctor greeted me with, "As you know there's no clot, but we did see a little something on your lung," I totally froze and immediately thought the worst --as in lung metastasis. When he then said the word pneumonia I wanted to kiss him...or kick him, either way, I was relieved.
So I'll take pneumonia. I'll take SVT's and necrosis...I'll take all the lousy side effects chemo has plagued me with. I'll even take lymphedema (reluctantly). Yeah, I know, it doesn't work that way, a lesser evil today doesn't mean I get a pass on a greater one around the corner. But right now I'm actually feeling pretty lucky to have pneumonia. How often can one say that?
However a couple days ago I started to run a fever on and off and I realized that can't be good. The nurse practitioner thought ruling out a pulmonary embolism would be a good idea due to my genetic history and the CAT scan showed I have pneumonia instead. I should have listened to my gut and been more proactive.
I'm on antibiotics and resting...feeling pretty miserable. But compared to the last time I had pneumonia 9 years ago, this is a picnic. Although the end result last time was hard to beat :)
One thing after another on this journey, huh? It's almost hard to fathom. Yet recently there have been a few women I know of in the breast cancer community that have received more troubling news of varying degrees. So when I went back to the doctor's office after learning the CAT scan showed no blood clot and the doctor greeted me with, "As you know there's no clot, but we did see a little something on your lung," I totally froze and immediately thought the worst --as in lung metastasis. When he then said the word pneumonia I wanted to kiss him...or kick him, either way, I was relieved.
So I'll take pneumonia. I'll take SVT's and necrosis...I'll take all the lousy side effects chemo has plagued me with. I'll even take lymphedema (reluctantly). Yeah, I know, it doesn't work that way, a lesser evil today doesn't mean I get a pass on a greater one around the corner. But right now I'm actually feeling pretty lucky to have pneumonia. How often can one say that?
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