Results

My family, my friend, my advisor and advocate, Janis, accompanied me to my appointment with the on-call oncologist.  It was her first time being a patient advocate and my first time bringing one!  We were a bit clumsy. 

"That went well!  That was good news!" she exclaims in happiness as we approach the elevator on our way out.

"It WASN'T GOOD,"  I snap.

The MRI report states my back, hips, lymphatic system and ribs are riddled with cancer AND there is very little evidence of structural damage.

My lungs have innumerable small tumors AND my lung function is 100%.

The neoplasm in my liver is 12 cm AND showing the exact characteristics of the original 2008 cancer, so it should be responsive to hormone treatments.

There's no evidence of tumors in the brain BUT we should get a contrast MRI to find microscopic pathology -- tumors could grow in the brain while they respond well to treatment elsewhere in the body.

"It's not GOOD," I snap, "It's just not WORSE."  (yet, I think)

I am still the same me and I enjoy the same things and love the same people.  But every once in a while, something happens to remind me how fucking serious this is. 

Francois asks me if maybe we should just do carpet now throughout the entire house and leave the hardwoods/laminate for later.

It's a knife through my heart when I reply, "Then *I* won't get to have hardwoods!"

The doctor, because I ask him to, pulls me through the PET images of my body -- tumor after tumor after tumor after tumor after tumor.

There are moments when this smashes into my reality and crushes my illusion of normal.  And right now that makes me so angry.

So I throw my anger at Janis in the car as she drives me home.

And then it rolls away.

And while I don't feel light and optimistic, I feel centered and able to acknowledge she is right.

It was good news today.

Considering.

And I have some pretty fucking great friends.