She Got Up Off the Couch*

I had a CT scan on Thursday and, as usual, the week or two prior to the scan were anxiety ridden ones. The scan shows us what's going on inside my bod - they use a high contrast dye to help identify any possible new lesions and to track the growth (or lack of growth) of existing malignancies. CT scans can be done anywhere on the body but mine focus on the chest, abdomen, and pelvis because that is where my growths have already occurred, and my type of cancer likes to return to the scene of the crime, so to speak. Well, to the scene of the metastasized crime (places the cancer spread beyond the primary tumor site, which was my sigmoid colon), I should say - it's very rare for another colon tumor to emerge. Anyway, as I've explained before, my medical team is very attentive in their quest to keep me alive (Thank You!) and thus, I have undergone these scans every two to three months since my initial diagnosis. These are in addition to PET scans, which search the whole body for possible cancerous sites, and the non-contrast CTs that are administered before every SBRT session I've had to undergo. Anyway. Lots of scans. 

As this round of scans crept closer, I really wanted to hear some positive news. Round after round of scans that have led to treatment makes for one very exhausted patient at the emotional and mental level, and if we were to hear that there were no new growths at this appointment, that would make it a year since any new metastases had been identified, which seems like a good trend to me! So. We crossed our fingers, said our prayers, and went to the hospital...where we received a pretty great report! The tiny remaining lung nodules that have been under observation for aost two years appear to have not grown at all, and there were no any new lesions reported elsewhere. In addition, the scan showed that my SBRT sessions earlier this year appear to have been very well tolerated - and successful! 

Whew! Of course, I always seem to give my doctors something unusual to ponder (what can I say? I like to keep people on their toes), and this time was no exception. My platelet counts were really low, for no discernible reason, and my CEA (a blood component followed in colon cancer patients basically to track the number of cancerous cells circulating through the body) number was also higher than it has been. So I'll be back at the hospital in a month for more bloodwork in hopes of unraveling those little mysteries. 

The bottom line, though, was that my oncologist was very pleased and sent me home feeling optimistic. He said that if and when (and let's be honest - statistics overwhelmingly suggest that I am in a "when" situation) new mets occur, he feels confident that we will be able to continue to use the approach that has been serving me well - SBRT with a possible course of chemo to follow. He was particularly enthusiastic about the number of new chemo possibilities that have come to market even since my diagnosis. He also is the head of basket studies (a special category of clinical trials) for colon cancer, which means that he will know what's out there and working before most of his peers, and I'll have access to that knowledge. In short, my husband and I left feeling like life looks manageable for us for the near and (dare I even think it?) even the intermediate future. To say I feel relieved doesn't even begin to cover it.  

(Warning: I sound a little crazy in the following paragraph, and I know that. But a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, and I've always been the superstitious sort, so try not to judge me. Well, not to judge me too much, anyway.) In the days leading up to this latest appointment, I (as usual) looked around for good omens to reassure myself that we would hear some positive news (I never find so many pennies as I do in the weeks before my scans!). This time around, I was somewhat fixated on these cards that one of my former students sends me from time to time: DinaCards. These are little packets of inspirational quotes that rarely fail to brighten my day (and remind me of the kindness and love that my students have consistently shown me over the last several years). The day before the scan, I opened a card that said, "Whatever the troubles of your past, you have a spotless (get it? no new lesions!) future." It soothed me all day Wednesday but by Thursday morning, I wanted another, equally encouraging card. And well, I wound up going on a little bit of a DinaCard opening frenzy, because the cards I kept opening talked about living in the moment and not taking

Life for granted, which to me sounded like a sign that maybe I had to make the most of the days I have left because they were precious and few. I managed to pull myself away from that line of thinking, though, grabbed my spotless card and headed to the hospital; I chalked up my "bad" cards to me being greedy and needy. 

But you know what? I think those cards were trying to tell me something: live your life! Get out there and live every day of it. Make the most of my opportunities and relationships, build up my strength and be on my way. I'm not cancer-free, but today - today I'm feeling pretty free from the constant concerns that cancer drags into my life. I accept that cancer is a part of my life - but I also know that it's no longer the center of my life. I'm going to make the most of my time here on Earth, and I'm going to live with a great faith that there are many days ahead for me to celebrate those I love, to produce work that will be beneficial and meaningful, and to create a better, more engaged Self. Instead of shying away from the world lest I have to leave it too soon, I'm resolved to step in even closer. So watch out, world! I've got my eye on you and I'm ready to tango.

* Title of this post is actually a stolen book title, the hilarious and moving sequel to A Girl Named Zippy, one of my favorite memoirs. You should read them both!