Navigating November

November 1, 2011: After a glorious pre-Halloween weekend (where at times, I was with all of my kids and grands - so heartwarming to this Grammy!), we woke up this first of November morning to drizzly rain and much colder temperatures. No more Indian Summer? Boo. I have enjoyed wearing light jackets and feeling the warmth of the sun on my face. Today, the sun was in hiding. At least the kiddies out Trick-or-Treating last night got the last bit of fall for their holiday evening.

Remember long, long ago, when Dr. Avizonis (my radiologist at the Utah Cancer Center) told me to come back in six months for a check-up? It seemed so far in the distance... Well, today was the day. I turned over the page on my calendar and there was written, "Dr. A at 9:30". Wow. I know where some of that time went, but the rest is a big blur. My life is kind of a blur. Maybe that's a good thing at times.

First, I went to the Bountiful Clinic and had my weekly IHR blood test. They should know me by now, instead of saying, "Oh, we don't see your standing order in the computer." I patiently wait by the desk for them to search the files, which they always do, and watch as they pull my sheet from the pile, which they always do, and say, "Oh, here you are, that will just be a moment," which they always do. It's a little annoying, but today it was comical. Really? Is it so hard to put my name in the computer? I'm sure it's there 1000 times any way. The 30-second test came back with the result of 2.5, which is absolutely perfect. A quick message from my doc says to "continue on the current regimen and repeat the test in two weeks." Wow, I get a week off! Awesome. I like being perfect on at least this one thing today.

Driving to the Utah Cancer Clinic, I had some moments of anxiety. These were the roads traveled for all those weeks of radiation. It's something I never want to repeat, but with melanoma, there is no telling what the future holds. The rain turned to snow as I pulled into a nifty parking spot just a few feet from the front door. Walking through the doors is hard, too, because much like the Huntsman Cancer Center, you know why all these people are here. They have cancer. I have cancer. We should wear signs to signify what we're coping with, but I'm glad we can remain a bit anonymous. I felt sorry for the obvious sales rep, who sat stiffly in a chair waiting to talk to someone about something other than cancer. I wondered if he worried he'd "catch" something. I watched a young mother with a scarf covering her bald head come out of the radiation room and herd her two little ones into their jackets and out to their car. It just isn't fair, is it? Finally, I'm called back by Allison to be weighed and shown to a room. I'm still about the same weight as I was when I left six months ago, which is good for me and makes Allison happy. A radiation tech smiled and said, "This is about the only place where we're glad when you gain weight." I told Allison about my second big surgery and she is sympathetic. She looked at my neck and said, "Yep, someone has been carving you up!" She left the room to make copies of my pathology reports for Dr. Avizonis to look at and I picked up my book and continued to read as I waited.

Dr. Avizonis came into the room with a look of disbelief. "What is going on?" she said with that understated anger at the meanness of cancer. I told her about finding the lump, learning that it had melanoma, going through the left side neck surgery, learning that none of the lymph nodes had cancer, and even about my mom and her struggles. She pulled up all my lab tests and pathological reports on her computer and printed them to put in my file. She seemed happy with what she read. Then, I tell her about my latest scare a week or so ago, when I discovered another little lump on my tummy as I was showering. I told her about the amazing "coincidence" that I was scheduled to see Dr. Bradley the very next day and that the moment he walked into the room and asked how I was doing, I cried a little and told him of my discovery. I told her that he performed his first abdomen needle biopsy on that tiny lump right there in his office and that the results came back that there seemed to be no cancer in it. I told her about my visit to Dr. Kerry Fisher, a general surgeon, who just "happened" to have an opening the next day after seeing Dr. Bradley, and that he ordered an abdomen/chest CT scan at LDS Hospital, who just "happened" to have an opening that same afternoon ("could I come to the hospital right now, as we don't have anything to do?!") She looked at the results of that CT scan on her computer and saw how the technician believed the lump was caused by "injections" to the area (remember my 10 days with the Coumadin injections?), an opinion shared by Dr. Fisher, too. Dr. A checked out my neck, listened to my heart and lungs, and then wanted to see this tiny lump for herself. When she felt it, she immediately nodded her head and said, "I agree that this seems to be caused by your Coumadin injections. You still need to have it removed and tested, but I don't think you need to worry about it at all." What a relief to have all three doctors on board with the same opinion. Of course, I know that anything can happen under the microscope - I certainly know not to trust my Goliath. But, I feel very reassured that the doctors are all in agreement. I have an appointment to have the lump/cyst (yes, let's call it that - Dr. Fisher calls it a cyst) removed on November 10 - in Dr. Fisher's office, not in a hospital. That makes it even better to me.

I walked out of the Utah Cancer Center with an appointment for six months from now, and I have faith that when that calendar day comes around, I'll still be cancer-free and healing and surviving. I'm a warrior. Nothing happens by coincidence, and I know that everything that just "happens", happens for a purpose, even a little cyst that shouldn't be there. It has shown me that God is in all the little details of my life, from scheduling appointments to guiding my fingers to trouble spots to giving me the doctors who will help me make it through these tests.