What’s Next?

Christmas, that’s what came next. It was difficult to focus on the holidays while my wound was still healing, and the sound my diagnosis, sounded as unreal as an alphabet soup spelling words like “recurrent,” “metastasis,” “breast cancer”, and then making it worse by adding “aggressive” to the mix.

What made a difference to me was meeting with an oncologist, and having the results of a pet scan before settling in with family to celebrate Christmas and ring in the New Year. This time survival would be on top of my list of resolutions.

Selecting an oncologist can be difficult, and there is no scientific method for assuring that any one particular doctor will be the best. I chose mine based on reputation for staying up to date, background, years in practice and access. Although the thought of seeing a world renowned specialist in a famous medical center might make me feel that I left no stone unturned, I want my doctor to be here, where I am.

The first time I walked through the door to the oncology center, part of me wanted to revolt and be a two–year-old throwing a tantrum and refusing to participate. It helped to see that a lot of the people in the crowded waiting room looked quite healthy in spite of wigs, creative head wraps and sparse hair growth. The sheer number of people in the office reminded me of how many people go through this, so I’m not alone.

Realizing that my doctor has spent most of his life treating cancer, I wasn’t surprised, nor did I fault him for his “matter of fact” attitude when he sat me down and showed me my test results.

It was worse than I thought. It had just been a tiny nodule on the side of my chest, but apparently it was quite aggressive. I commented on the tumor markers, and he said, “I’ve seen higher levels.”  I was able to breathe when he assured me that the woman with the higher level was alive and well, and years had passed since her treatment.

He told me that the best treatment option would be a combination of chemotherapy and radiation, followed by a hormone suppressive therapy which would decrease my risk for another recurrence to 15%.

My head flooded with thoughts of alternative therapies, cutting edge European treatments and exotic far eastern remedies, all of which I sifted out of my mind. I decided to go to war with cancer using conventional treatment proven to be effective, and then rebuild my general health and continue the battle with mainly a plant based diet, yoga and other health promoting activities.

I would start chemo once the holidays were over and my wounds healed, but I don’t think I would have had a moment’s peace had I not had a PET scan before the holidays.

A PET scan is basically a scan that can detect suspicious lesions anywhere in the body, and without knowing if my cancer had spread beyond my axillary lymph nodes, this machine was a God send, although until I had the results, my anxiety surged.

There was preparation involved in having a pet scan. I was advised to limit my activities the day before, so I did nothing. Nothing at all. The day of the pet scan I was given a solution high in sugar which would attach to suspicious areas in my body, if there were any, and light up on the scan. Increased muscular activity could have the same effect, so I didn’t move during the infusion.

The scan lasted for about an hour. The technician told me that she would have to stop and restart the test if the machine detected any movement beyond breathing, so I remained still and found another reason to be grateful for my practice of yoga, which kept me from fidgeting.

Aside from uptake in my axilla due to my recent surgery, the scan was negative. I said a prayer of gratitude, and then tried to turn my attention to family, the holidays and to healing.

Next Entry: September 29^th, 2016