"Finally" was the first word out of my mouth when I received a phone call from my oncologist two hours after I got home from my most recent CT scans on October 24th. I didn't expect to hear my results until the following morning at my appointment with her. I was mentally prepared to wait the emotionally exhausting 24 hours to find out my fate but instead it came a lot quicker then I imagined.
My house phone rang, I heard my dad tell whoever was on the other end to hold on, I grabbed the phone and heard a familiar voice. My doctor said she wanted to call me so I didn't have to wait since she finally had the chance to give me some good feedback after months and months of nothing but defeating news. My CT scans were good. There was no change in the existing masses and no new ones had formed.
The meds were working.
Naturally, I started crying. I turned to my dad and told him everything was fine. Finally. I called my mom and was so happy to be able to tell her my scans were good for the first time in a long time. I really wasn't expecting them to be.
The following day I wasn't so bitter about waiting around almost two hours for my appointment that was running behind. For once, I didn't have to load myself up on my best friend Xanax. I was there to discuss my good news instead of being told the options planned out due to crappy news. It was a small victory - one that I was happy to accept. It also made it easier to head to the airport that night with a smile on my face to spend the next 13 days in Spain. I had decided the trip would either be a celebratory vacation or an escape from real life for a while. It felt good to know I could enjoy myself rather then worry about what would await me upon my arrival back to my normal life.
During my appointment with my oncologist, we obviously agreed to keep me on the combination of Lupron injections and daily Letrozole pills. We also discussed the option of RFA (Radio Frequency Ablation). A few months back I had an appointment to see if I was even a candidate for this type of procedure. Your tumors have to be within a certain size in order for it to be done - as of right now, mine are. RFA is basically a procedure that will burn my tumors (that's the type I would get, anyway). It's not a big surgery like I've been through in the past but it's also not some small, dinky form of treatment. I mean, holes are literally being burned into my lung. My lung could also collapse in the process which would mean another lovely chest tube (one of my biggest foes) and a possible hospital stay. Obviously, they can only do one lung at a time but they did say they would be able to do both tumors at the same time. The cool, hippy-ish doctor that spoke with us about RFA also stated that I would probably only have to wait about a month in between to do the other lung - which was a positive thing.
Needless to say, my mother was all about this procedure. Her theory consists of the idea that no Cancer in there is better then the Cancer being kept at bay. I sort of agree but I need a break. The last year and a half I've felt like a science project. All that comes to mind is the scene in Frankenstein when the electric machines go crazy and the monster suddenly starts to move..."It's alive!!"
The only difference is that I don't have the theatrical neck bolts to add to my list of freakish looking body defects. Perhaps I can request them the next time I go under the knife. At least I wouldn't need to worry about costume selections every Halloween.
My oncologist suggested we wait until my next set of scans at the end of January before we made any decisions on RFA. The problem with that type of procedure is that it doesn't cure you. It basically just zaps the existing masses but it doesn't mean they won't come back. I agreed that if in another three months I received favorable text results again, I would consider the option of RFA.
My next CT's are scheduled for January 30th, 2013. It would be really nice to start 2013 off with some positive news considering 2012 basically blew a big one. Unfortunately, the happiness of my recent results is starting to fade and the uncertainty of the next outcome is setting in.
Side note: I can report that as the days and weeks go by on these meds I have started to notice myself getting more emotional then usual. Today alone I cried twice! I was out to brunch with my dad at a local diner and I could feel the tears start welling up in my eyes. Why?! Was it because I was just so overwhelmed with the fact that it was taking abnormally long for my omelet to make it's way to my table? Then I made a run to Starbucks later in the day and while sitting in my car waiting for a light to change I just burst into tears. These were not tears of joy due to how delicious my chai latte tasted. These were some random tears from a weird combination of emotions. Out of nowhere. It's a little frustrating to not have a lot of control over my emotions but I'm trying to tell myself it's not me.
Everyone around me has been great with encouraging me to be positive; however, the truth of the matter is that anything can happen. The meds can stop working at any time. I've said in the past that I don't find myself to be a negative person, just a realist. I like to prepare for any situation. Don't get me wrong, I am SUPER happy that at least for now, I can breathe a little easier. It's just frustrating to live life in three month intervals. Hopefully I'll one day be able to move to six month intervals and then finally twelve month periods of relief. Until then, I'll take this battle victory in the war against my nemesis.
