WOOT!

I hope that my delay in blogging didn't worry anyone, but we got my pet scan results back. And the result was, in the doctor's words not mine, excellent. Woot! But, let me back you up and tell you the whole story.

So, in the week between taking the scan and finding out the results, my emotions were subject to roller coaster ups and downs. When I was being rational, which is hard to do for a normal person under the circumstances much less someone prone to irrationality like myself, I could look at the objective facts and be hopeful. I knew that my back has almost been completely pain free, whereas before I started out being up in almost constant pain. I knew that where my neck once had a lump which was visible to the naked eye and even more noticeable to the touch, I could feel absolutely nothing but muscle.
Yet my irrational side kept saying, but what if? This pessimism has some grounding in my history. Waiting for scans when my mom was sick was agonizing. Sometimes we got good news, and sometimes bad, and I taught myself to prepare for the worst. I forced myself to consider all the possibilities, so at least when I got the bad news I would be prepared....I would be ready. Although, you are never really ready to hear bad news. It can be scary to hope, because it is a horrible feeling when you hope for and expect the best, and you don't get good news.

So I didn't want to get my hopes up for these results, but Justin kept trying to convince me that based on all the evidence, the results would be good. I had a minor meltdown Sunday night, but Justin talked me through it. Then, I got positive, and I was doing great all the way to the doctor's office on Wednesday. When we got in the waiting room, the anxiety began to surge. I overheard the nurses trying to decide where to put me and I realized that they were putting me in a consultation room. I figured that if all was good, they would simply take me back to my chemo chair and the doctor would talk to me there. I thought that surely putting me in a private room, which hasn't been done since my first consultation, meant that they were breaking bad news to me. So when they took me back to take my blood pressure my heart was racing with fear.(notable fact: my blood pressure was 25 points lower this morning than it was yesterday morning) By the time Justin and I were in the consultation room I was in tears. We waited for 15 minutes or so, me anxiously pacing and tearing up and worrying and Justin calmly flipping through 3 months worth of skiing magazines (notably he wasn't as disturbed by the scenario as I). Finally, Dr. Black came in the room and took one look at me and asked, "Why do you look so terrified?" I told him that I was afraid that the test results were bad because they had put me in a room to talk with him. He told me that the test results were really good, and the nurses had put me back in the room because there weren't any chairs available at the moment. I believe that Justin gave me an "I told you so" look. Then I explained, perhaps moderately irrationally, that putting me back in the room was tantamount to psychological warfare. He said, "You know, I never thought about it that way, but I can see how them putting you back here could make you nervous. Good thing I didn't send in the grief counselor." Fantastic. An oncologist with a sense of humor.

The results were as follows: everything from my around my collar bone is gone; my spleen is clean; there's just a little bit left in my back and in my chest, but they are both greatly diminished. Hopes are that when he tests me after the next 2 rounds that everything will be gone. I will finish up in total 4 more rounds of chemotherapy either way and then we will discuss if he thinks we should do radiation.

But the treatment is working. I have every real hope of being cured as much as one can be cured from cancer. I feel like I know have the chance to think about my future seriously again. I feel as if I can begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I am hopeful. I am also a little sick at the moment from the treatment yesterday, but a little discomfort is worth getting well.

I feel it is important to mention this before I go. This past weekend, a dear man who was a friend of mine passed away after a battle with cancer. Len Roberts was one of kindest, most loving people I've ever met. He had a heart bigger that the state of Texas and a spirit as strong as his southern accent. I got to know him well when I was on the pastor nominating committee as we all sought the next pastor of Oak Cliff Presbyterian Church. His resoluteness to seek the will of God in calling a pastor, his determination to do the right thing and his willingness to work tirelessly easily earned my respect, but his character and loving nature earned my love and affection. My heart goes out to his family and loved ones. He will be greatly missed.

Look at me! I glow!

Ok,ok. I really don't glow, but that would be an awesome side affect of being made radioactive. Yesterday I was subjected to my second pet scan, and to do the scan they both inject you and have you drink radioactive sugar. Yum. You know, the fun thing about all of my appointments and scans and things is that I tend to be the about 20-30 years younger than every other patient I see. They keep telling me that there are lots of young patients they have....I just never see them. I suppose that deep down, I am glad that I don't see lots of people my age in these places, because it sucks to be 26 and sick. I don't mean to complain...but I want to be honest.

I made the mistake and called to ask a question of the nurses at my oncology office. I've had a little bit of drainage for the past week or two. Its probably just allergies, but there's some green stuff in my snot. Then today, I had 1 cough that brought up the slightest bit of green stuff. Well, just as a precaution, I thought I would call the nurse and asked if she would suggest anything for me to do. When I called, I was very clear that I felt fine and that I wasn't running a fever, and that it was just a little green....and MAN they hopped into action. They immediately got the number of my pharmacy, paged the doctor, and arranged for me to be on antibiotics. The same antibiotics that I was supposed to take if I got a fever over 101.5. I kept asking the nurse, "Are you sure? Seriously?" But, the doctor was clear. So, I am on the antibiotic. I'm glad that I didn't mention that I have had green snot for about 2 weeks. They might have sent over a rescue mission.

So, here I am on these antibiotics. It is a funny thing, being on lots and lots of drugs. You start to begin to read labels a little more carefully, you know, to prevent bad combinations of drugs and whatnot. Trust me, one must be an advocate for oneself. And when I read the information of this drug, it lists the following side effects: Belly pain, nausea or vomiting. Small frequent meals, frequent mouth care, sucking hard, sugar free candy, or chewing sugar-free gum may help. Diarrehea.

Yea! Oh yeah, it also says that on rare occasions it can cause you to be dizzy, or for your tendons to rupture. Sigh. And I begin to wonder if the snot was really all that bad. I know, I know....you are thinking that the doctor knows best. He does.

Moving steadily along, I think it is crucial to mention that as I am blogging, I am watching BET gospel channel where TD Jakes is preaching. This is not something I do often, but it happened to catch my attention. As he preaches, his band emphasizes certain points in his sermon with instrumentation. A tambourine in one instant, chords on the organ in another. Now, my favorite preaching professor would be aghast, but I kind of like this style. I'm not sure that it would go over so well in a presbyterian church. Entertaining you must admit. It makes me wonder when I will be up in a pulpit again. It's funny, in a way. In October, I was preaching for members of my committee in front of my home church, and being a part of the women's great banquet meeting. I was in the midst of my chaplaincy internship at UCLA. And now, I am sitting alone on a Friday afternoon, praying against side effects, anticipating the results of a pet scan, watching TD Jakes preaching a sermon titled "Nothing Just Happens." Part of me totally believes and part of me wants to believe this is true, if that makes any sense. The problem is that it usually takes time and perspective to really understand why things happen. I can believe that things happen for a reason without being able to see it in my own situation. I would like to think it is some maturity on my part that I am able to know this. But my immaturity comes in that I would really like to know now. I would really like to have the 20/20 hindsight to know why this is happening to me, and what the purpose in it all is, so that I could bear up under the weight of my struggles better.

Enough of that. Please keep me in your prayers; pray that I might have good test results. Pray that my cancer will be taken away. Thank you.