Friday, June 10, 2011

Summer Joy

June 10, 2011: Yesterday, Mom and I went to Huntsman Cancer Institute for my scheduled scan and lab work. Arrived about 10:30 - didn't leave until after 2:30. Had to have blood work done and an IV put in, but my veins were in hiding. The GOOD phlebotomist said she was determined to be patient, and I was grateful. Hate to be poked two or three times, just to see if maybe this vein or that will decide to cooperate. No luck on the right arm, went to the left. Tried several things, including a hot water balloon on the crook of my elbow. Felt pretty nice, but only after a few minutes did one vein decide to emerge. As she drew blood, the tech said this was one of the hardest draws she had ever done. (It was certainly the longest time waiting I'd ever had - usually the techs get impatient and just start pricking.) Got all those tubes filled with nice red blood, and off I went to the radiology clinic.

Signed in and was given two bottles of berry contrast. "Drink up," the girl at the computer said, "so you don't fall behind in the schedule." You don't have to tell me twice - I started gulping down that stuff right there at the check-in desk. I've learned (by observation) over the past 6 weeks at the USC Center that "berry" is the flavor of choice and straws help the nasty stuff go down better. Luckily, Mom had a straw in her soda that she let me use and it DID help. I was right on schedule, of course.

Mom and I decided that it's very hard NOT to be emotionally invested in all the people who surround you in those waiting rooms. We all know what we're there for, we all know what we share in common, and it's heartbreaking, to say the least. I was sitting by a man who read newspaper after newspaper and looked through countless magazines as he waited for his loved one to come out of the scanning room. Finally, I saw a pretty, stylish woman come out the doors and head straight to him and pull him up by the hands. I watched them walk a few steps away and stop briefly. She looked up at him and held his arm, and he said, "What?" She smiled and softly said, "All is well." I heard him sigh and pull her closer to him as they walked to the elevators. All is well. That's what we all want to hear. That's how we all want it to be for ourselves and those we love.

I put on the ever-so-fashionable "scrub bottoms" and followed the tech into the CT room. I drank the last bit of the contrast and laid down on the table. The tech asked if I remembered how the contrast feels when it comes into the IV and I said, "Yes. That's why I just visited the restroom." She laughed. The first scan was of my chest and pelvis area. When the warmth from the IV came, it not only came into my groin area, but burned in my wounded neck. That was a strange feeling, and surely came because of the radiation still there. (Dr. Avizonis told me it takes 12 weeks for the body to completely get rid of radiation.) All through the scan, I chanted "Miracles and Hope", and had to think of how frightened I was the first time I went through this procedure. This time, I was much calmer and much more hopeful that all would be well. The second scan was of my neck and head. I could just imagine the tech behind the window looking at my neck and wondering what in the world had happened. (Maybe not...maybe they see this all the time, right?) Quick as that, I was done. No one said anything to me about the results, so I had to be content to wait until my visit today with Dr. Grossmann.

This morning, we were at the Huntsman Center again by 9:00 AM. (By the way, that free valet parking is a lifesaver!) I only waited a few minutes before nurse, Annette, came to take my weight, blood pressure, and temperature. Then, she took Mom and I into the exam room, which was on the back side of the building and had a huge window that looked out onto the mountain. It was a beautiful day today and I loved the view of the budding trees and green grass. Soon, the Nurse Practitioner, Nurse Luckett, came in, along with a new member of the team who was going to observe the Melanoma Clinic that day. The first thing my NP said was, "Lisa sings with the Utah Symphony Chorus!" It was sweet. I told them about our September 9-10 concert and that it would be a wonderful event, and they both said they hoped they could come. NP checked me out, asked me a bunch of questions, and then asked if I had any questions. I wanted to know about the new melanoma drugs that have recently been approved by the FDA, so she explained that Dr. Grossmann was at the big cancer conference last week and had lots of information about it; but, mainly it was approved for Stage 4 melanoma, and as she said, "We don't want you to ever have to use them!" Then I asked about my scans and she said, "Yes, let's look at them now." Cool. So cool. It never ceases to amaze me what my body looks like from the standpoint of scans and X-rays. What a marvelous "machine" God gave us to maneuver this world. NP Luckett pointed out my vital organs, my bones, my brain, all the good stuff, and even showed me the difference between the left and right sides of my neck. She said that cancer shows up as round, white spots, but that there did not appear to be ANY round, white spots in anything she was seeing. "Your labs and your scans seem to all be normal," she said rather casually, as if she had just told me that the sky was blue. Mom and I nodded, just as casually, hoping that we were hearing right.

After I changed into a gown, Dr. Grossmann and the whole team returned. He began the conversation by asking about chorus, too, and I told him what I had told the others. He said, "I'd like to come to that. How am I going to find you in the chorus?" I told him I was on the back row, right in the center, and he asked if I could wear some little feely-doppers on the top of my head to wave at him! Cute! He also asked about Dr. Avizonis and my team at the USC, and I told him they were wonderful. He checked out my neck and said it felt "woody" (exactly!) and that I probably needed to do some physical therapy. He also asked about my "skin breakdown" from the radiation and then saw how I'm peeling and blistering and sore. He suggested an "anti-fungal cream" for the folds of my scar -"we don't want you to get a yeast infection there" (eww!), so now I'll be a little worried about that. He talked about being at the big cancer conference and that one of the focuses was on melanoma with an unknown primary source, like mine. He said that it was decided that these unknown primary sources are most likely on the skin (again, like mine) and that tumors come sometime after the body has unleashed its natural killer cells and eaten away the spot of melanoma on the skin (like mine!). He said that because of that, he was confident that we wouldn't find melanoma in my vital organs or in evidence in any of my other tests and scans, such as the mammogram, the PAP test, the eye exam, etc. I told him I was having a colonoscopy next Friday, and he said, "I'm confident that will be clear, too." Then - the moment of truth - he said that the scans showed two lymph nodes on the right side of my neck that were enlarged, but that it was probably an effect of the radiation and he was not worried about them. In fact, he was not worried about anything he had seen and - DRUM ROLL - there was no evidence of cancer anywhere - no evidence of melanoma anywhere! "I'll see you in three months for our regularly-scheduled scan."

I cannot express my utter and absolute relief at this BEST NEWS EVER! But, I have to say that I am not surprised. After my visit to the temple, after the many prayers in my behalf, after the priesthood blessings I have received, I KNEW this would be the outcome. I know I have seen miracles in my life, today being one of the best. I am so thankful to my Heavenly Father and my Savior, Jesus Christ. On we go, slaying that Goliath, until he's totally a memory of this period of my life.

I am anxious now to be healed of my radiation burn and to get my taste buds back and to have a normal tongue and throat again. Summer will be a joy, once I can eat and move my head without stinging and burning! I AM SO HAPPY!

1 comment:

  1. I wish I had words to communicate my smile and the comfort of a big hug for you. I'm so grateful you're doing well.

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