It's that time again, the days and days of wondering and waiting and stalling calls and texts while the hours tick by for results. Will this be the new miracle drug or will it strike out and bring up the next one on deck or even lead to a new clinical trial?
First on the docket was port access and lab work. At least the charts said lab work until I reminded the nurses about my labs drawn on Friday before scans. It's not that big of a deal to have it taken again, but it takes time to get results, which is just unnecessary time and tools and money when we already have results from four days prior. After a quick check with the boss, it turns out I was right. [During the inquisition, I was cracking up the nurses and techs with the 'real' reason for avoiding more blood drawn--I didn't want them to discover my weekend bender.] Shaving time off my day and getting to keep my blood and getting to be done earlier than planned was a big win. If you don't ask, you don't get.
Then, it was over to the other side to meet with Dr. Cole. Unlike an entrance from not so long ago, the one in which her first words were, " You're in liver failure," she walked in and proclaimed that she had very good news. "Have you seen your results? Your scans show that things are 'dramatically better.'"
REALLY???? It's time to dance. I jumped up and celebrated.
The positivity is strong in this room:
My brain is clear.
My chest shows that all my lung infiltrates are gone. Clear.
Scans show no enlarged or abnormal lymph nodes.
Skeletal metastases appear stable compared with prior exam.
Heart looks good. No detected coronary artery calcification.
Peritoneal disease significantly improved, nearly visible. Near complete [I would've said 'nearly,' but who needs that red pen out with such good news?] resolution of peritoneal implants.
All liver lesions decreased in size, by half or more, plus no new lesions identified.
The pancreas has significant interval decrease in size of head mass. [The one previously blocking my bile duct, causing me that annoying hospital stay and surgery recently.]
Spleen and adrenal glands and kidneys and bladder and uterus and adnexa [aka: all the stuff surrounding it] are unremarkable.
Previous bone lesions seen, with no change in disease. However, increasing sclerosis of some of the previously identified Lucent lesions in the body structures, likely indicative of positive treat-related changes. In other words, the scans show my previous swiss-chesse-hole-looking spine/pelvis/femur regions have areas which appear to be healing, as if my body is trying to repair those areas with new bone.
Today, positively trending lab results:
All in normal range!
Even potassium is normal, which means another infusion without two-hour potassium drip.
It is time for the bone strengthener, Zomeda, but I'm up for that. Keep giving those bone masons more bricks and mortar and tools to fill those holes. Plus, it's a 15-30 minute drip.
My history on the scan reports, the reasons for my exams seem a bit daunting:
"patient with history of breast cancer metastatic to the brain. Status post radiation therapy, lung metastases, bone metastases, liver metastases, lymph node metastases, peritoneal metastases, status pose new chemotherapy regimen needs restating to assess res." [I'm not sure what res means. I'm thinking it has something to do with using these scans to determine if my current treatment is working or we need a new approach to fight this ever-growing list of landing points for tumors in my body.]
I wasn't sure about this new drug a few months ago. Memories of doubt and discouragement and depressing, tear-stained discussions about my options and the side effects of Enhertu, along with inner struggles over whether or not it was time to clock out with all the drugs and just live out the rest of this life came rushing back. I knew then that I was a fighter; I just became anxious for a moment and stepped away from the determination for a bit. Because that fire had been roaring for so long, but now might be burning out with only embers left, it felt for a moment or two as a sign that the intensity of my battle my be over. Not so. I still have strength and support. I still have time. Although a daunting and somewhat discouraging start to this drug, so far the results are delightful and directing me forward.
So good to hear, but of course you will remain in our prayers and hearts so you keep getting only good news if we can help it.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the prayers. Who is this?
DeleteThis is sooo amazing! I always believe in miracles regarding you. Somehow your depleted body fights and fights - I am so grateful!
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