Yesterday Was Kind of a Bitch to Me

Yesterday, I went back to the NIH for an MRI and a PET scan. The goal of these tests was to determine if surgery or some other intervention to treat my liver alone (and then deal with the cancerous spots in mah belly separately) was even plausible. 

It was another early morning DC commute for me, but surprisingly traffic was mega-smooth and I arrived pretty early to the 12th Floor Clinic. It's only taken me 2 prior visits to get the system/parking garage/building 10 navigation down. I am already a pro!

At the clinic, I got my port accessed, blood drawn for a blood glucose test (for the PET scan), and was sent on my merry way back to the radiology section of the hosptial for my MRI. When I arrived, I was advised I was too early to even sign in. Hmph. I took a seat and watched my already waning mood spiral down even more. You see...a) I was in pain. (Based on my CT scans, the pain I am having seems to be coming from two spots in my pelvis that are not cancerous. They are called lymphoceles or lymphatic cysts. I have one on the left and one on the right and they are most likely the result of lymphatic fluid collecting in the space where I used to have lymph nodes before they were removed during my surgery in 2008). It's a relief to know that the pain is something benign, but also...well...it's pain and being in pain is simply exhausting. AND b) I really really dislike MRIs. The laying still, the confinement, the banging noises. Ugh. (I feel myself panicking just thinking about it now!) But, this was free, necessary for additional diagnostic information, and compared to so many other things I have put my body through in the last year or so...really easy physically. It's just a mental bitch.

So...I took some drugs. Extra oxycodone and a clonipin (you can get anything from the pharmacy when you have cancer). My goal was to put myself in a coma for the MRI so that I would just sleep and not lay there panicking. How did I do? Umm....big FAIL. Apparently, I didn't jump on this strategy quick enough.

I was eventually taken back to the MRI room by the poor nurse/technician that had to deal with me for the next 30-60 minutes. I was very uncomfortable laying flat on my back, so she boosted my knees up with a pillow...and then another. I still whined. For anyone who knows me...I ALWAYS try to be pleasant and people-pleasing and apologetic. But, I AM getting better at being a pain in the ass. Not great. But, better. She did all she could to make me comfortable and told me she would be quick and then she slid the bed into the MRI tube where all the mental fun began. To be fair, the scanner at NIH is actually much more open than scanners I have been in in the past. But, it would still be a struggle to wriggle myself out of there in an emergency (and there goes the panic again). The next 30 minutes consisted of me praying for calm and telling myself it was fine. This is easy. Blah blah blah. At one point, I realized that my propped up feet were completely asleep and this made me panic even more. My heart was racing. I started sweating. My mind was all the way out of control. I hit the panic button. I readjusted my feet. I said in my feeblest, most pathetic voice, "Are we almost done?" To my relief, she explained that I had 7 minutes left, though we would  have to start the last scan over since I interrupted it with my panic. After that, she talked me through the last 7 minutes, which really helped. I had thought about asking her to do that from the beginning, but I think she was just trying to get through everything as fast as possible for me. 

So...the MRI was over (hallelujah!) and THEN my clonipin started to set in. Poor timing. Now, I was through the hardest part of my morning, but I was a complete walking zombie. I headed back up the 12th Floor clinic and found a place to sit while I waited to hopefully check in with the doctor. I still wasn't allowed to eat or drink because of  the upcoming PET scan, so I focused on staying awake while completely hunched over in my chair to reduce my lovely pelvic pain. I am sure I looked like a hot pathetic mess. A volunteer, named Jan (I think), came to sit with me and asked if I was up for talking. I am not sure I even answered her, but I suppose the fact that I looked at her meant that I was. I really wasn't. She explained that she had been a cancer patient there 22 years ago and her life was saved by NIH, so she came back each week to visit with patients and help calm them during their wait. She was so sweet and I was so not feeling sweet. I smiled and nodded, but barely spoke. I wasn't sure if I should hug her or push her down onto the ground and kick her. Ha. Just kidding...I would never do that. But, at the time, the thought may have crossed my mind. Ultimately, I didn't have the energy for either.

Time passed and I needed to go to the PET scan waiting room. This was the absolute BEST part of the day. Once there, I was taken into a small exam room with a recliner chair. A nice nurse or technician or whatever he was, loaded me up with my radioactive glucose, gave me a pillow and a blanket, reclined me, turned off the lights and told me to sleep. Umm...OKAY!!! Sweet sweet sleep. I followed instruction, without complaint.

Eventually, I was awakened and taken to the PET scan room. This scanner is similar to a CT scan. Much more open. The scan took about 20 minutes and all I had to do was lay there and stare into space. Good times. I was still in pain, but minus the mental anguish of the MRI, it was more tolerable.

Finally, after a quick lunch break, I was able to see the doctor. Here's the not-so-good news: Based on the results of the PET scan, the areas of cancer in my pelvis and in my retroperitoneal lymph space are widespread enough that it really wouldn't make sense to treat my liver alone. I suppose, if I really wanted to, I could find a doctor who would do it, but it's been the opinion of all of these really good oncologists that the risk of liver surgery (which is no walk in the park) would be too great compared to the benefits, unless the rest of the cancer in my body was under a bit better control. This is not to say that this couldn't be a possibility down the road, if we can find a way to shrink everything down, but I am thinking it may be an unlikely scenario. Time will tell. 

Anyway...I was pretty devastated at this news. I guess my body is, in a way, helping to make the decision of what to do next. So, right now...at the NIH anyway...my 2 options are for chemotherapy. (I am not yet eligible for the immunotherapy study, but will continue to work on getting there). What hit me hardest was when the doctor said "I think we have looked into everything we possibly could for you," which to me sounded more like "there is nothing more we can do". Which isn't true, but it is how I felt at that moment. I cried the whole way home.

I cried some more that afternoon and then even more that night. This afternoon, I feel much better. My spirit somewhat renewed. My pain is better today too...after an extended morning nap. Ha. Time to once again re-evaluate and move forward.

My mother-in-law sent an email last night. And,  while I receive lots of emails and cards and words of encouragement that touch me and speak to me all the time, what her email said last night spoke to me the right words at the right time. She said that, while practicing her daily devotional, she read the following:  "Maybe we need to be reminded that some things take time-God's time. In our microwave world, we want everything done instantaneously. But sometimes that's not God's plan. Let's seek God's help and learn to accept His timing." I want things to be fixed and better NOW and sometimes I worry that I am running out of time. But, I don't know that. No one does. All we know for sure is that we have THIS moment. And THIS one and THIS one. Ha ha. 

One more little tidbit to share: This came from a former colleague, who posted this on The Facebook this morning. I hope she doesn't mind me sharing! 

Riddle for today: What one activity is almost as natural as breathing...yet is useless, harmful, a waste of time--and warned against in the Bible?

 The answer: which I got immediately....yay me...is WORRY. (remember my "Worry post")

Her response to me: "You're right, Vashni! I've been listening to a message by one of my favorite ministers: Adrian Rogers on "Words for the Worrier." He noted that there are 2 things we should never worry about: 1) things we can do something about--because then we should act!--and 2) things we can't do anything about--for that very reason.

So...anyway...all this being said...yesterday was kind of a bitch to me, but yesterday is over.  Who knows what tomorrow will bring. It's best for us all to just remain right here, right now and relish all the beauty of each passing moment as it comes. There is no need to rush through today to get to tomorrow because all we really need is upon us now.

Love and hugs to you all!! Check your worry at the door and live in the present!

Vashni