Last Day of Hard Knocks Month

Friday, September 30, 2011: I am already flipping over calendar pages to tomorrow, when the month changes from "Super Stressful September" to "Outstanding Optimistic October"!! Yes, we can do it!

This morning, we received the second bid on our garage door replacement. Now, we're waiting on the insurance company to select one of the bids and get things moving. It's frustrating, especially when both companies looked at the garage door and said, "We could get this done today." Okay, let's do it then! All the red tape is discouraging. Meanwhile, my car sits and waits, too, and when it is finally dislodged, it will go off to a repair place for another undetermined amount of time. We do have a rental "car", which happens to be a TRUCK. Brand-new 2012 Chevy Silverado with less than 100 miles on it. Very nice, but not exactly what we need for three tall people. And if we can pry ourselves away from all the drama around here, it's not exactly what would get us down to see Mom in comfort. Style, maybe, but nothing we could really relax in for that long drive. Dean is going back to the rental place to see if there is something we can swap for. We'll see. At least we have transportation now. THAT was another pain altogether.

My visit to the Huntsman Cancer Center on Wednesday was a good one. Dr. Grossmann is very reassuring and informative, and I love that all my doctors are "team players". There was a bit of excitement in the waiting room, as one of the patients waiting to be seen was a man in handcuffs and leg shackles, accompanied closely by two uniformed policemen. Obviously, cancer strikes whomever it wants! As Linds and I sat and waited for our turn, one of the nurses came out to talk to a woman and her husband sitting nearby, and we overheard the nurse say, "Everything came back clear. You're all clear." I watched the woman's face and knew every emotion she was feeling. First, the unbelief; then, the absolute relief, and then, the pure joy and gratitude. It was so sweet and made Linds and I all teary. I wanted to hug her, but she was too busy hugging her relieved husband. When we finally saw Dr. G, the wait was worth it. He asked me about the blood clot and what medications I was taking. When I told him I was doing injections AND taking Coumadin--possibly for the next 8-9 months--he grimaced a bit. "That's quite conservative," he said. He promised to call Dr. Beckstead and confer with him about how long I would need to stay on the drugs. Definitely not 8-9 months, which made me very happy! He went over my pathology reports from the neck dissection, which was quite interesting. I discovered that Dr. Bradley removed 22 lymph nodes from one level of my neck (when Dr. G said the number of nodes removed, he sounded almost astonished!), and then he removed six more from another level. So, when we say Dr. B is thorough, we mean it! Beside each description of the levels were the test results, and I loved seeing "no cancer detected", written after each paragraph. At this point, I am a Stage 3B, but Dr. G was quick to say that usually the differences between 3C and 3B are not a great factor in treatment or survival. He pulled out a cool graph card from his pocket (well used) and showed me how the stages determine survival rate. Right now, after this latest surgery and pathological report, I have a 60% chance of being alive and cancer free in five years. That's doesn't sound like the best, but I was actually encouraged by that number. I think when I was first diagnosed, I was given a 20% chance of survival in five years. Dr. G then went over again all the ins and outs of the clinical trials, relating the side effects and the advantages, and then calmly asked, "So, what do you want to do?" Amazing that these doctors who know so much still leave the decisions in our hands. I told him that since my pathology report had shown no evidence of cancer, I did not want to do any clinical trials. "You want to continue on Active Observations?" he said. Yes, that's exactly what I want to do. Isn't that a great term? Active Observation. We're looking actively to keep those cancer bad guys from winning. I'm back to the 3-month scans, the next one scheduled for December 19. Now, that could be a good thing and a bad thing. It could really be a reason to make merry at Christmas, or it could be total downer. I'm going to think positively and know that it will be a GOOD Christmas. No cancer. None. At all.

I am also waiting today to hear from Dr. Beckstead about further injections. I took my last shot this morning and really, REALLY don't want to refill that prescription. I'm hoping Dr. Grossmann has talked to him about lowering my doses and time on the Coumadin, and that my good score of 2.1 on Wednesday will give me the all-clear. Waiting, waiting...

I talked to Lachlan this morning, too. We're both excited about his soccer game tomorrow and that Grammy will get to see him make some goals! I'm also hoping we can take Mom for a little drive and let her soak in some sunshine and fresh air. I think that makes everybody feel better, but especially after a month in the hospital. I'm going to work hard on that one.

Dean is feeling a little better after a few days on antibiotics, and I feel stronger every day. Yesterday, I actually put in a good amount of time for work. One of the supervisors sent me a message, thanking me for working into the night. I know it will just keep getting better. And now that September is over, I can "press forward". Thank you, Lord Jesus! Without you, I would not be sane enough or healthy enough to put one foot in front of the other; but with you, I am standing tall, poised to sprint to whatever lies ahead, scars and broken things and all. What a precious gift of comfort and peace and healing You have given me this month. It has been the difference between life and death, joy and despair, laughter and tears.