Stable

When it comes to follow-up CT and MRI results with a cancer diagnosis there are few words more beautiful than "stable." Decreased is one. NED, which stands for no evidence of disease, is the most beautiful. Wiktionary defines stable as "relatively unchanged." When you're looking at measurements of tumors on a scan, relatively unchanged is pretty awesome. Stable appeared in Mom's CT results from last week 12 times (yes, I counted). "No new suspicious" appeared 3 times. Decreased (only the 2nd most beautiful word as far as these things go) appeared one blessed time.

In the pre-chemo baseline CT, Mom had mets to the lung, a few lymph nodes, and the liver. And, of course, the main tumor in the esophagus. Then, there was that pesky second cancer in the kidney. Everything, except the kidney tumor, is at least half the size now as it was in the baseline. Some are still there, but not measurable. Some are gone completely. There are no new suspicious findings. So, yet another fantastic set of test results.

We enter a new stage now. After yet another allergic reaction to the cisplatin yesterday, the Doc has decided that he's going to take her off it. Mom will start a new chemotherapy combination next Monday. Her Doc is consulting with the MSK Doc in NYC to determine a new combo. We have had such luck with the cisplatin/irnitocan combo that it's hard to say goodbye to it. Even though it's the right thing. Let's hope the new combo works as well with as few side effects. Keep up all the prayers, well wishes, asteroid killing and pacman eating visualizations.

Results

I started this blog shortly after receiving my mom's first follow-up CT results. It was only a little over a month ago, but it seems like forever ago. Back then, I knew that while those particular results were positive, my mom's cancer was much more advanced than I had realized. I was in a pretty bad place emotionally. I had lost most of my hope and I was worried that I wasn't going to be able to deal with anything.

I am in an entirely different place now - thank God. Because seriously, while this blog may be about me and my journey - my Mom's cancer is about HER. And I need to be able to be strong and hopeful for my Mom and Dad.

Mom's results came back and they continue to be good. The MRI still shows no new/recurrence in the brain. WHEW! The CT continues to show improvement - most of the lung nodules are gone, the liver tumor is smaller as is the main esophageal tumor. Sis and I went to the Dr. with Mom this Monday. Mom asked the Dr. if he ever saw this just "go away." He said...yes. Mom pointed out when we spoke about it later that there was a long pause there. So, not likely, but possible. I do have to say, I wish these doctors would stop handling us with kid gloves. When we ask these questions, we want realistic answers. He could have said - yes, but it doesn't happen that often. Or, ever? Sure. But, it's not the most probable scenario. Or, whatever the truth is. (In fairness, I suppose we could have asked a follow-up question.)

Mom has been worrying that she's going to be on chemo forever, so Sis asked what about a break in chemo. Do you see that? Dr. said yes. (No pause there.) Problem is that Mom has that pesky second cancer - so if they think that she's well enough to go off chemo for at least six weeks, they'd probably be scheduling surgery to remove (at least part of, if not all) her kidney. Which kind of sucks, but what can you do? As we all know, Cancer Sucks! And, it doesn't play fair.

Here's the thing though...I mentioned that I signed up for an EC listserv back in December. And, while there is a lot of hope there, there's also a lot of people that have horrific side effects from their chemo. And, Mom? NONE of that. First, unless you really know her, you wouldn't know she was sick just by looking at her. Her worst side effect is fatigue - she tires fairly easily nowadays. She's nauseous for the first few days after chemo, but she can control it (mostly) with meds. Some people on my listserv are too fatigued to do much of anything - Mom babysat yesterday for her two precious (and active) grandchildren. Yes, she was tired at the end of the day (but, no more than I would have been!). So, she's lucky. We talked about that on Monday, too.

On the last day of National Women's History month, I thank my favorite woman in the world. For teaching me to be me and instilling in me a strong sense of self-worth. For handling a crappy diagnosis with grace, dignity, strength and amazing spirit. I love you, Mom.

Test Anxiety...

When I was in school, every test I ever took I was anxious about. The tests I have taken since school for my career...anxious isn't strong enough a word. Series 7 - first thing I ever took for my career. First, everyone tells you how hard it is. Then, I was failing all of the practice tests that I took - right up until the last one. Plus, I was terrified that I was going to be fired if I failed (that doesn't happen, but still!). I couldn't imagine telling my boss that I failed. ARGH. CTFA - wasn't as worried, but still a little. CFP - the one that was three years of qualifications before the big exam that took two days to take. Worried that I would forget everything from the first two years. But, here's the thing...I could study for those. And even though I was worried, I KNEW that I was in complete control of my own fate.

My mom has another set of follow-up tests this coming week. There is no studying for these tests. And she's not in control at all of what happens. The beast that is cancer is in complete control. Is it still responding to the chemo? Have her brain mets come back? Are the tumors smaller? If not smaller (the hope), then at least the same size? No way of knowing. No way of preparing.

You all know I'm a control freak. Hard for me to deal with something that I have no control over. The only thing we can do is hope and pray for the best. Prepare yourself mentally for the possibility of bad news.

And lean on the people who love you...so here's what I'm asking. Say a little prayer for Mom sometime this week. Send your best wishes for her out into the world. Imagine lasers from that Asteroids game exploding all of her cancer cells. Or a little Pac Man inside of her eating them all up. That's what I'm going to do.

And, I will try to remember these inspirational words...life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain. It gets a little easier to do that every day.