Marching Onward

What a wildly nerve-wracking 48 hours it has been!  Brad and I did a fairly good job of keeping ourselves busy during the time period between my scan on Tuesday afternoon and my Oncology appointment on Wednesday morning, where they would let us know the results, but I must have been more concerned than I thought, as all of my dreams Tuesday night centered around cancer, cancer, cancer.  And that's not normal for me, thank goodness.

On Tuesday morning, Brad and I left the three kids at home in the caring hands of Brad's parents and headed to the cities.  I had my first CT Scan at Abbott, preceded by one of the worst IV starts I've experienced.  The nurse was pretty nervous, so I tried not to breathe as I looked away during the stick (as much as blood and medical procedures interest me, I can't watch needles go into my or my children's bodies.)  She did the stick and I said, "That wasn't so bad!" and she replied, "Um, just hold on a minute." and then proceeded to shift the IV around in my arm, digging into the vein and causing quite a bit of blood loss.  It wasn't the worst IV start I've had (that was hands down my surgery IV where she tried three times before getting another nurse, all while digging around in my veins), but it definitely made my top three.  I, and my arm, are so very glad that's over.

The CT procedure itself went well and was one of the craziest, coolest things I've felt.  The contrast that they inject into your bloodstream causes a mild burning sensation, so you can feel it being pumped through-out your body.  What a kick to feel my circulatory system in action!  And, thankfully, the nurse let it slip that the contrast makes you feel as if you've wet your pants...because it's totally true.  I actually laughed out loud, because I would have been mortified that I HAD wet my pants if she hadn't told me that.  Through-out this entire life event I've been amazed over and over again at what a wondrous thing our bodies are.

I had some blood work done by a very friendly (read: not so friendly) lab tech and then headed over to complete the last leg of the study I'm participating in.  Two hours later, and with my brain feeling like it had been through a washing machine, Brad and I headed away from Abbott, determined to fill our evening with time spent together, not thinking about scans, blood work, or the 90 degree change of direction our life could take, depending on their results.  We ran errands, checked into the hotel (Brad surprised me by wanting to treat us to that...how awesome!), had a nice, leisurely (kid-free!) meal, and soaked our cold and stuffed-to-the-gills bodies in the hotel hot tub.  After a long night, and a morning of exercise, continental breakfast, and swimming, we headed to Minnesota Oncology to find out the results from the previous day.

Forty minutes behind schedule, we were roomed, walking past our super-nurse, who neither smiled nor said anything to us (which was very unusual and totally freaked me out.)  Eventually, Jane stuck her head in our room and told us that the scan looked good, but that she was trying to track down my lab work (hence her preoccupied nature.)  Hooray!  A clean scan!  Brad asked Jane if she was sure, to which she replied, smiling, "Yeah, the scan looked good.  Did you expect anything else?"  Ummmm...no.  And YES.  And NO.  There's HOPING.  There's PREPARING yourself.  There's FAITH.  There's those deep, dark FEARS.  And there's JOY when all of it turns out okay.  No 90 degree turns will be taken today!  Marching ONWARD!

I had to re-do my blood work (which I'll find out about today) and we met with Dr. Zander.  He reiterated that the CT Scan would let us know about any large groupings of cancer cells, meaning any tumors that would have been missed during surgery, and not any new recurrence that may be forming.  My percentages are still my percentages, and we'll continue to be diligent in monitoring my body for lumps, bumps, and any new symptoms.  For my prayer warriors out there, that means praying for no metastasizing outside my original cancer areas because I have 0% successful treatment possibility if that happens.  But, all looks good and we can go forward with the bilateral salpingo oophorectomy and completion of my reconstruction.

I can't say enough, how fantastic my medical team is.  It's such a blessing to not have the worry of triple-checking all that they do on my shoulders (maybe double-checking...but no triple checking!) :)  Brad and I were very saddened to find out that Jane, the super-nurse, is transferring to a branch that's closer to her home, so we'll be losing her.  I'm confident they'll have an excellent replacement, but it will be sad to go in to Minnesota Oncology and not see her smiling face or hear her teasing references to us as "the country bumpkins."  Our sadness continues to point out to me how happy I am with the team that's taking care of me.  I am so, so blessed.

And, speaking of blessed, thank you all for your thoughts, prayers, and well-wishes.  There really is no way to articulate the feeling of comfort that comes from being surrounded with so much support.  It honestly makes a difference.  You had me smiling as I went to sleep Monday evening, with thoughts of all of those I love going through my mind instead of those deep, dark fears.  With all of you by my side, and God holding me steady, I can't go wrong.  I love you all.

Where We Go From Here:
I should know the date of my combined surgeries later today (end of February/beginning of March.)  Until then, it's more healing, more getting in shape, and more enjoying life for me.

The Future:
Looks beautiful!