"All Clear" and Swooning with Relief

Monday - October 28, 2013

"Your scans are all clear" and "everything is perfectly normal" infuse true energy.  My relief is completely tangible - I tingled from toes to ears as my body relaxed? released adrenalin? celebrated with an electrical outburst? Happily, I was sitting down in the car having just emerged from the market on my way home from school.  If I had been driving, I would have had to pull over ....

Well, it is truly one year now, even by UCSF's measurement.  One year since my last treatment without a relapse of this stage 4 scourge.  One year and 3 months since active lymphoma was extinguished from visibility on current-technology scans.  Seventeen months since "the particularly nasty chemo protocol" of Hyper-CVAD gifted me with migraine relief and restored vision.  One year without allogeneic Bone Marrow Transplant and its risks.  One year of feeling grateful and strengthening and enjoying my days.

Thank you everyone for your words of support and acts of kindness.

Next steps will be decided when I consult with my oncologist on Nov. 14.  As for my port?  Well, if that proverbial green light is lit, then "Bye-bye!"

Muddy Distraction

Megan is a (muddy) fundraising warrior in gorgeous Yolo County!

Sunday - October 27, 2013

As an optimist, silver linings can be found everywhere - even in cancer....  I suppose that one of the most obvious positives in our initiation into the cancer club is our heightened awareness and support of cancer research.  Relay for Life and St. Jude resonate much more personally these days.  Last April, I visited Jonathan at Tech for a profoundly moving Relay for Life that seemed to mark an affirmation of my return to work and readiness for our move to California.  Yesterday, Megan's Warrior Dash Fundraiser not only provided a welcome distraction from this long wait for my latest scan results but also marked Megan's passing the $2000 mark in her fundraising efforts this year.  Thank you, THANK YOU to everyone who donated!  Megan ran up hills, hoisted herself over walls, and slogged through mud to raise funds for pediatric cancer research.  Her proud mom soaked up the ambiance if not the sun (I staked a spot in a scarce corner of shade) until I went on camera duty when Megan emerged from the fire pit jump and dove into the mud pit.  As a top fundraiser, St. Jude gifted Megan with a public hose down followed by a private portable shower :) 

Reading the (Lack of) Tea Leaves?

Waiting (for dinnertime or for test results) can create anxiety

Friday - October 25, 2013

Waiting ... waiting...  waiting ....  But NO news.  What does this lack of news mean? 
Is the oncologist not in the office? 
Have the results not been read? 
Or is it bad news and ....
Well, my oncologist said he would phone me one way or the other
so ... therefore ... I may infer ... I can guess ...
that there is no news yet
or no one to deliver it. 
But I'm not freaking out or overthinking ... yet.
Am I?

Thank God I am working in a happy job where I am "in the moment" for the vast majority of the day.  Otherwise I would go absolutely ... CRAZY!

A Familiar Routine

Monday - October 21, 2013

Details may be different but the routine remains the same....  Hands above my head or strapped to my waist straight-jacket style, the PET scan always proves irresistible for a nap underneath a warm (sometimes hot blanket)....  And either in my own carefully selected metal-free outfit or the UCSF mandated multi-part green gowns, the MRI remains a loud raucous hour where I find myself counting the beats and wondering about the reasons for the different rhythms, pitches, and decibals.

Details, details ....

Yes, it was scan day once again.  "Watchful waiting" means that every 3 months I load up with contrast via IV and enter into the multimillion dollar machines that peer inside me looking for masses, tumors, and any other harbingers of lymphoma activity.  I'm not sure if it's angst, hunger, contrast-reaction, or a general undercurrent of fatigue but I always get home ready to snuggle the hounds and grab a late afternoon snooze.... Tired.

The oncologist should be in contact this week with the PET and MRI results.  Then it's decision time.  Either we're back in chemo action against a relapsed disease OR -- let's hope -- we're retrenching a bit by removing my port and lengthening the time between scans to 6 months.  Tick tock.  Can't wait for the call.  I just can't stand the waiting....

All Seems Well (... but let's check that liver)

Thursday - October 3, 2013

Today's check-in with my oncologist meant a noon visit to the UCSF clinic in the city.  Having juggled my schedule with very supportive colleagues, I left my students with familiar teachers rather than a substitute and got in the car at 11 to head south down the 101.  Many positives came to mind as I headed in for this let's-hope-it's-banal visit:

• I am feeling just fine.  No symptoms  prompted this trip.
• This commute is even closer than that familiar trek to VCU - and of course - I reap the happiness that comes from traversing the Golden Gate, viewing the crystal clear city from the Marin Headlands, and taking in the great architecture as I head up to Parnassus Heights.
• Every month ... week ... day! ... that passes without relapse brings me a bit more hope that this dread lymphoma might have proven defeatable or might be banished once again if it does indeed recur.

So, my port is now newly flushed on both sides, my vitals are confirmed as normal, no lymph nodes are palpable and worrisome, and my blood work shows... - RATS!  Again, a small blip on the health radar screen.  Those pesky liver enzymes continue their downward trend but remain elevated.  Yes they are on the decline but they have not returned to normal after last autumn's 2 rounds of high-dose methotrexate.  Just to be sure that my liver inflammation is methotrexate-induced and not a symptom of anything else, my oncologist is referring me for a liver ultrasound and follow-up with a specialist. This procedure will be scheduled for my next scan day:  on Oct. 21, I will be getting my next PET and MRI scans as well as this liver ultrasound.  It will be a full medical day :)

In anticipation of those scans, we discussed possible options IF the scans continue to be clear.  At that point, I may go to scans every 6 months and will have the option of having my port removed.  Hmmmm.... my love / hate relationship with the port continues. Yes, I want it OUT.  Who wants a foreign object in their body with a direct link to your aorta?  However, once it's out, I cannot imagine how devastating it would be to have to get it reimplanted for treatment in case of a relapse.  Relapse made real.  I need to think this option through carefully.... but let's get another clean scan first.