Rollercoaster

Well, it’s been a bit of a rough week or so emotionally and mentally for me. I had my PET/CT and breast MRI last Wednesday and got a somewhat vague report from the nurse on Thursday morning. She said that everything showed as shrinking, just not to the degree that it did before. She said the test results were good and were to be expected. She said at this point things are still on track and that Dr Melisko (my oncologist) and Dr. Ewing (my surgeon) will talk and then get back to me Friday night or Tuesday. She said that things are slightly decreasing - breast mass from 2.4 x 4.6 to 2.4 x.4.1 (so 0.5mm change) and same metabolic rate. The lymph stuff is still lighting up (I don't know how much but less than before). And that the one bone spot that they measured (they didn't measure the rest) went down from 1.9 to 1.6 - with less metabolic distinction - meaning that it is getting harder to differentiate what is cancer and what is regular bone because the bone is healing - probably thanks to the Zomeda. She sounded positive in her delivery, and said that at this point, the plan remained the same.

It is now Tuesday evening, 7pm and I still haven’t heard from my oncologist. Although I did just get a call from UCSF that I have appointments Friday with both my oncologist and my surgeon, as well as chemo on Friday. I’m taking this as a VERY good sign that whatever is happening in my body is showing sufficient enough healing to start talking about surgery. And as odd as it sounds, I’m actually to the point of welcoming surgery as a clear step toward completing this triathalon.

Having said that, following the tests last week and knowing only a very vague report of how my body was responding led me into a bit of a black hole emotionally. I think that I have been making such efforts to be positive and strong through all of this and having these tests reflected all of the doubts and fears that I had been pushing out of my mind for so long, such that I completely fell apart on Wednesday night. I hadn’t really fallen apart except for briefly in the beginning with my diagnosis. This time, I was a puddle of tears and fear and emotional wreckage. Marchus was brilliant in picking up the pieces of my doubts and fears, putting each one in perspective for me, one by one. I’m only human after all and no one can maintain a Pollyanna outlook all the time, especially when facing cancer. Still, I didn’t really pull myself together until this afternoon even though we had a wonderful weekend with our annual neighborhood 4th of July block party as a true summer celebration. It is a highlight each year, and watching the boys play in the street and the jumpy house with all their neighborhood friends is such a treat, as was watching their faces watching the fireworks show. I wish I had been in a better state emotionally.

In any event, apart from my emotional rollercoaster, Adam started prekindergarten last week and is just loving his new class. I’m so proud of him and how much he’s growing up and becoming such a thoughtful kid. Matthew surprised us with his first pee on the potty this week - reminding me that diapers aren’t forever. He’s also mastering new words each day – jumpy house, fireworks, otter pops – the words of a blissful summer. He’s turning 2 on Saturday. Time goes by so fast. I remember being pregnant with him like it was yesterday, waiting and waiting for him to be born.

As I get more information regarding my treatment schedule, I will post again. Thanks to all for your support and for cheering me on through the tough times.