The impression that I get.

If you've kept up with my little blog you'll note that last week was a semi-dark time. Hearing the word "progression" come out of my Doctor's mouth was enough to give pause to any hope I had of recovery. Not a cure, I know that, but some added time of which I would benefit from some future medical development. Some unforeseen discovery that is just around the corner. But in that moment when looking at the scans, trying to disseminate the weird shapes from the normal shapes, the mind going numb, only hearing partial words like "larger", "denser", "not responsive"... it really brought me to my knees, spiritually.

Funny thing about darkness though. It never lasts.

 I have another Oncologist from whom I rely to get second opinions from and she had a largely different assessment regarding my health. Without going into details: everything was rather stable and the original scan reports showed that my treatment was in fact working. The "larger-denser" mass continues to be radiation scarring which can often be mistaken as a tumor. This mis-diagnosis had happen to me back in Nov 2016 and is called Radiation Fibrosis. And the benefit in having a PET scan from which to compare these CT-scans gives us better information: to build a better picture of the situation. 

Hello-Hello-Hello.

In the end, the metabolic activity actually dropped a few points since Oct 2018, there are NO new mets in the brain, and my overall outlook is stable, which is winning the fucking lotto for cancer patients. Add the proverbial icing on the cake: my latest blood biopsy resulted in being NED: No Evidence Detected, which is pretty much being kissed by God.

A High Five is cool too!

Next up, the Clinical Trails Doc.

Sigh... tired of the back and forth mind fuck

Fuck Cancer

Progress is good, except in Cancer.

The little engine that could. The Tortoise. Civilization. All are great with Progress. Progress in achievement; progress in perseveration; progress in growth...

But progress in cancer sucks. Progression, that is.

My latest scans resulted in a less-than-favorable outcome as it showed that the old spot in my lung apparently progressed (grew). I say apparently because the technician's report also mentioned that it could be inflammation. The same exact results were reported in October 2018 (see blog Cancer Man IV) where that same spot was detected, albeit a little smaller. They believe that this spot is a tumor due to the apparent growth, or disease progression, yet it does not have the full-effect of metabolic activity a tumor would demonstrate, so inflammation should not be ruled out. Capiche?

tumor, inflammation, inflammation, tumor

It's all a clusterfuck really. I sat in that patient room in the belly of Cedars-Sinai for an hour seeing my Oncologist wrestle with the computers to pull up the correct images. The computer crashed twice, the final report for the brain MRI was not finalized, and my old files would not appear in the system. In the end, I wound up in a fog of confusion not knowing where my health situation was, plus a tweaked mental anguish upon realizing that I reached the peak of insanity.

It was bad. I kept thinking of my girls and how I would not see them grow. Feeling that I let my dreams die while giving life to those of others. Feeling a wasted life... In that hour I was coming to grip with the tragic brevity of life and how precious it is. A coming to Jesus moment.

Cutting through the confusion I set a mental plan of attack and figured out my next steps:

1-Fuck this Oncologist.
2-See Radiation Oncologist while at Cedars for his opinion on scan results.
3-Get Image disc of latest scans & reports.
4-Set appt with the Clinical Trial Oncologist. Give him latest scans.
5-Set appt with my #2 Oncologist for 2nd opinion.
6-Shot of whiskey and eat tacos. Fuck the diet.

All 6 steps completed. Next week I should be busy gathering much more information and evaluating my next course of treatment. There will be a lot to consume mentally, but I look forward in seeing things with a clearer head.

However, I've come to the point where I do realize where my priorities should be. And, if I do have a certain number-of-days left, then, they should be spent on the continued progress of my daughters' well-being & growth. On whatever endeavour I embark on, this should be of utmost importance. It is my creed, my sacrifice, and my duty. And this, of course, includes my own well-being. It's time for a change in my professional pace.

more to come...

The wait

Jan 24, 2019. 10:45 am. In my Oncologist’s waiting room in Ceders Sinai waiting to see the results of my latest scans. My blood pressue was a little high, but totally understandable under the circumstances. Still, continuing to bite the bullet grinds a man’s spirit, but it can also steel him. My choice what I do with this ball of energy I am feeling now in my gut. Embrace the challenge and push through.

Here we go...