My phone rang as I walked back into the house about 4 o'clock. My local doctor already had the report. Good news was that my nerves, joints, discs, and all looked fine. No mechanical problems. But the report didn't rule out metastasis. What the fuck. METASTASIS. Here we go. Dead man walking.
Anybody who has had any proximity to cancer knows that metastasis is bad shit. Very bad shit. It means the cancer soldiers have taken their pup tents and set up outposts everywhere.
Yesterday I woke up at 8, went back to bed at 9, and stayed there in my blanket fort until about noon when Judy, my sweet research nurse, called to talk me off the cliff. She said to focus on the fact that the report said non-specific. It also mentioned motion which could mean that I wiggled. Judy and my oncologist said they are obligated to do the next step but it does not at all mean there is anything terrible going on in my bones.
She also said metastasis was not in the report. That word must have sprung unbidden from the mouth of a nervous doctor. Dammit. They should know better than to fling around those hot button words. After that word, I didn't hear another thing she said.
That my back is much better is an excellent indicator that it will be fine. If I had bone cancer, it would not get better in a week. That's what the experts tell me. The PET scan is the thing that will confirm it.
So I feel better. Better enough to make it through the next five days. I have a PET scan scheduled for Tuesday at 10:30.
We have been up to our usual hi jinx. We had lunch at Mazatlan on Wednesday on our way to the MRI. We ran into the Dos Equis man in the waiting area! The police often question him just because they find him interesting.
Stay thirsty, my friends!
After our two days of mortal mental combat, we decided to go out for an early dinner to celebrate our 14th anniversary which is really Saturday. We indulged in stuffed jalapenos, a rack of ribs, a pork stuffed baked potato and a glass of wine. We have enough food to last for several more meals but it was wonderful. A respite from the shitty world of cancer.
My sweet Regis. He has been my greatest angel through all of this. He takes me to all of my appointments without complaining. He listens to my crazy fears and rants. He doesn't mind if I retreat to the blanket fort for hours at a time. I asked him yesterday if he didn't ever get tired of all this bullshit and he got tears in his eyes and said no, not at all. I am lucky to have him in my life.
I'm wearing Regis's new glasses from 39dollars.com. He also got a pair from Coastal for ten bucks that he loves. We'll never pay 600 dollars for a pair of glasses again.
The MRI which has receded into the background of my experience was not a horrible thing. It's a tiny space and it's very loud but I kept my eyes closed and pretended that the loud noise was a new-age punk rock band doing a concert. I told the techs they should record it and sell it. I'm not sure but I think they rolled their eyes.
Just Monday I wrote that I wanted to get back to normal. Now I feel stunned again. Immobilized. But I know myself. I'll feel like crap for a few days and then I'll spring back. They can't keep a good Norwegian Lutheran down!
Happy summer solstice. Enjoy the longest day of the year. Remember that pleasure is a thing that also needs accomplishing.