I have lung cancer.
Small-cell carcinoma. Yesterday’s MRI came back negative (whew!) so now they want to do a PET scan to see if there’s any of this shit hiding anywhere else inside me. I guess the drill is, they feed me radioactive glucose, make me sit around for a couple of hours while it metabolizes, then zap me to get the extra-hungry, sugar-fiend cancer cells to ping their locations. Are there any other scans left that I have not had yet? Probably shouldn’t ask – I’ll jinx myself.
Dr. Ferguson was not able to make it to the meeting due to some kind of kerfuffle up in Rochester, so the other Dr. Ferguson (she of the googly-glasses and arm-sleeve tattoo from my bronchoscopy) stood in. I’m sort of becoming a fan of hers. She’s just enough of an oddball that I can relate to her, but still very professional and on-top-of-it in manner. And not at all grim, but rather cheery, which is nice. She made the confirmation, and then sort of stopped herself mid-sentence to ask if we needed a moment to absorb the news. I replied that, no, I’m fine, and I have spent several weeks being prepped for this by basically getting this diagnosis in small portions.
After that, she and the very sort-of patrician-looking nurse practitioner (Brooke LaChance – Nurse Practitioner would make a great medical drama, no?) were very positive and down-to-business about what-all is coming next. The PET scan, the meeting in the opulent offices of the UW Carbone Cancer Center with the multidisciplinary team of a bunch of docs and l’il ol’ me, and decisions about exactly what my treatment options will be. I plan to vote for “whatever will work the best.”
My brother and sister-in-law came along with me and Jeanette, because we were all expecting this to be THE MEETING. You know the one, where they herd us into a sound-proof meeting room, look at us with funerary expressions, say “there’s no easy way to say this,” then they drop the bomb and we all collapse in shock and grief. Nope. Just another meeting where more information is gleaned, and next steps are discussed and planned. I vastly prefer this way, as I really don’t enjoy being punched in the gut. So we were all actually quite relieved when we left, and feeling very hopeful about the whole thing.
Br and S-I-L were very sweet and took us out to brunch afterward, which was great because they’re great. XXXOOO. I have a week off until my next appointment, so I will again be trying to get a lot of stuff done in that time. Still don’t know when the chemo/radiation will start (soon, though) but the time for getting my ass kicked is approaching. Yikes.
More to come…