Things could be worse

This year the district gave us this whole week off for Thanksgiving instead of the usual three days. Everyone was super excited about it, especially folks who travel over the holiday. I imagine people who do lots of cooking/hosting will be grateful for the extra time, too.

 We won't be doing any traveling this year (not that we ever do). We're in the process of preparing to paint the remodeled room, and so the meal I cook for the two of us tomorrow will be small and relatively simple. I picked up three large turkey breasts for the freezer last week--they were such a good price that I couldn't resist--and I'll cook one of them for the holiday, and the other two will be handy to have around later in the winter. 

Gregg had three separate oncology appointments yesterday. He's going to be doing four or five radiation treatments sometime within the next few weeks, probably before Christmas. There's a small and (very) slowly growing mass in his lung and the doctors all agree that it shouldn't be ignored. His PET scan came back clear, thank goodness, although there was a slight bit of heightened activity around the spot. They can't do a biopsy, since that poses some risks when you only have one lung, so they've decided to treat it as if it's malignant and proceed from there. They're all confident that a few radiation treatments will eliminate any potential future problems. I'm really, really grateful that the doctors are being so proactive in taking care of him.

Radiation will be a new experience. The last time, it was surgery and chemotherapy, chemotherapy that he did not tolerate well at all. The first thing he said about this treatment plan was, "At least I don't have to do chemo this time." It should be over relatively quickly, and fatigue and skin irritation are the only major side effects they expect. But then, get this: the radiology oncologist Gregg met with said that occasionally a broken rib is a side effect of lung radiation.

A BROKEN RIB, Y'ALL. 

Hopefully, that won't happen. And the doctor assures him it isn't all that common and they have good pain relief available if it does. But still!

Thank goodness the treatments should be done by January, and we can leave this episode behind as just one more shitty thing that happened in 2024. I'm really hoping for a better 2025.

Finally

Gregg finally got a call back from the oncologist. Everything appears to be okay. There's an area that they're going to continue to monitor closely, but as of right now it doesn't appear to be problematic. Thank goodness. 

The delay in hearing anything was because Dr. Smith wanted to show the results to our friend Vinod. Dr. Vinod Jona is a long-time personal friend of Gregg's, and as luck would have it, he's the top pulmonary specialist in this area. There's no doubt in my mind that he saved Gregg's life back in 2012. He oversaw all of the tests and treatments, personally picked out the surgeon and oncologist he thought best, and made sure Gregg got the very best treatment available with no delays. In fact, he was already on standby to do a biopsy immediately if this latest PET scan showed anything. Dr. Smith is used to partnering with him on Gregg's care, and I'm so glad he went over everything with him first even if it did mean a delay in getting results. I'm not religious, but Vinod has been a real blessing in our lives. I'm so grateful to him.

We can finally rest a little easier tonight. I'm so thankful.

Tuesday afternoon stuff

Well, Gregg had his PET scan this morning. Thank you all for your positive thoughts and supportive comments on my last post. I appreciate every single one of them more than you know. The doctor promised to call with the results within a couple of days, so we shouldn't have to wonder much longer. I'm trying not to worry until there's a real reason to. (It's always in the back of my mind, though). 

Let me tell you about my weekend! This past Saturday morning I woke up around 3am, projectile vomiting and feeling like I might be dying! I spent the whole day in bed with nausea and stomach pain and feeling pretty terrible, bad enough that I wondered if I'd come down with the flu or something. What a great way to spend the weekend, huh? I'm pretty sure now that taking a big combination of drugs (for three separate issues) including antibiotics, prednisone, a pain reliever, and a muscle relaxer was to blame. I'm finally feeling pretty much back to normal today, and since I'm now off everything except a small and dwindling dose of prednisone, hopefully it won't happen again. It was a rough couple of days.

It looks like there's a hurricane headed to Florida tomorrow, and in the wee hours of Thursday morning it's supposed to go over eastern South Carolina as a tropical storm. I'm keeping a close eye on the Florida forecast because my friend Mary Moon is down there. In fact, when Gregg and I first saw the storm's forecast track, he said, "Hey, doesn't your blog friend live down near that part of Florida?"  It's funny how people we've only met through blogs can become so important to us. I know Ms. Moon and her family will be perfectly fine, but it's still scary having a big storm bearing down on you. We'll be watching developments closely, of course. I won't be surprised if we don't have school on Thursday, since we're going to get a ton of rain all at once (leading to minor flooding) and strong gusty winds. When it's not safe for school buses to be on the road, schools shut down. As they should, of course. 

So, we'll see what the rest of this crazy week holds! Only best-case scenarios, I hope. 

Stay safe, everyone. 

Worried, but grateful

Yesterday Gregg came home from work, sat down heavily in a chair beside me, and said, "I got a call from Jamie Smith this morning. From him, not his office."

Jamie Smith is Dr. Jamie Smith, his oncologist. My heart sank.

Gregg's been having yearly chest CT scans since 2012, when he was treated for stage 3 lung cancer. One such scan was a couple of weeks ago. Apparently there have been some small but measurable changes in his chest area since the last one, and out of an abundance of caution Dr. Smith is sending him to have a PET scan next week. For those of you lucky enough to not know, PET scans are used to detect cancer. There's a small possibility that there's been a recurrence. 

Dr. Smith said (more than once) that he thinks there's less than a 10% chance that the cancer is back, but since Gregg only has one lung (they removed his left lung to save his life), there's just no room to take a "wait and see" approach. Catching any recurrence in the very earliest stages will be crucial to treating it successfully. He told Gregg to do his best not to worry over the next few days (easier said than done, of course, which he readily admitted) because he really thinks it will prove to be nothing. 

But oh, it's scary. It's hard not to worry. 

At the same time, I'm so incredibly grateful to Dr. Smith. He's been watching out for my husband for years now, and I have faith in him. He's not only a good oncologist, but he's also kind and thoughtful. He says he'll have answers for us within a day or two of the PET scan, which is next Tuesday. You can't ask for any better than that. 

But it's going to be a long week. 

Milestone

Thank you all for your kind comments on my post yesterday. I appreciate all of your well wishes and support more than you know. I wish I had known you all back when my husband got sick. I was blogging then, but had very few followers and had yet to meet most (all?) of you in late 2011/early 2012. It would have been a wonderful source of support during the darkest time of my life. At times I felt very, very alone in those days.

I didn't want to mention this yesterday until Gregg got the "all clear"....but it was exactly 5 years ago that he got his cancer diagnosis. That means he's passed what I consider a very important milestone, and one I secretly feared he would never see. The 5-year survival rate for stage 3B lung cancer is a dismal 5%. I found that statistic early on and nearly despaired. My husband is a lucky, lucky man. Lucky to have as a long-time personal friend the head pulmonary specialist at McLeod hospital here in Florence, who pulled out all the stops to get the cancer treated quickly and aggressively by the best doctors, surgeons, and oncologists in the area. Lucky that he was relatively young and in good health (except for the giant tumor in his left lung, of course) and could stand an aggressive course of treatment. Lucky to have good health care insurance that paved the way for any and all tests and treatments to be done immediately. He may have lost an entire lung, and chemotherapy was hell, but he's here today and healthy. Nothing could be luckier than that!

I expected yesterday to feel momentous, but it was strangely anticlimactic. The oncologist didn't even mention the 5 year thing. Gregg will still be on a 6 month follow up schedule, at least for now, because they made an appointment for next June. After seeing the doctor yesterday, he went back to work and it was just a regular day. When I mentioned the milestone to him last night, he kind of shrugged it off and changed the subject. It didn't feel all that momentous to him.

But to me, it feels like a miracle.

Depression

Easter was a melancholy day here despite nice weather and a day off work. Gregg has been dealing with some depression and anxiety, which is common in people who have finished cancer treatment. Depression is also a relatively common side effect of a drug he still has to take, a nerve pain blocker. The oncologist wants him to continue taking it for awhile yet, as he still has pain and odd sensations (peripheral neuropathy) in his surgery site a full year after finishing treatment. Chemotherapy is rough. Especially when it's administered six weeks after a lung has been removed!

I thought, when all the treatments were over and Gregg got a clean bill of health, that life would go right back to normal. How wrong I was! I had no idea what an emotional roller coaster we were still in for. The fear of the cancer coming back that we both live with is the worst part. And although every three month follow up with the oncologist so far has resulted in a glowing bill of health, the appointments are constant reminders that all it will take is for one small shadow to show up on a scan, or for one of the blood tests to come back with an abnormal result, and we'd be plunged right back into the nightmare that last year was.

Knowing how grim lung cancer normally is doesn't help, either. A man that went to church with my mom was diagnosed about two weeks after Gregg--and he died last month. When she told me about that, it was like getting stabbed in the heart. Of course, I know that the statistics for lung cancer are downright dismal compared to other forms. The pulmonary specialist  (a close personal friend of ours that we are lucky to have) has assured us that Gregg is doing wonderfully well, and if he continues to have great checkups for another year or two that he will likely be considered cured. His current good health is almost miraculous, and I'm grateful beyond words for it, but one's sense of confidence about the future can never be fully restored after the kind of ordeal we've been through. The best you can do is take things one day at a time and learn to get on with your life despite the ever-present nagging fear. But there are days and weeks when that's easier said than done, and this week has been one of the rough ones.

One year already

Today it's been exactly one year since my husband came home from seeing the doctor and said, "I have cancer." Without a doubt, it was the worst day of my entire life so far. We didn't have any information at that point beyond the fact that there was a tumor in his lung. I choke up whenever I remember that day, the fear and despair and sense of unreality (like a waking nightmare) of the hours and days that followed. Life changed dramatically, unequivocally, forever. We were so frightened of what the future would hold.

Now here we are, one year later, and the tears keep flowing again...but they're tears of happiness and gratitude this time. Gregg is healthy again. The cancer is gone. He continues to improve each day, and life is almost back to normal....but held so much more dear. What a wonderful Christmas this is going to be for us! All we need is each other.

Hold your loved ones tight during the holidays, and every day. They are your most precious gifts.

The sweetest word I know....

.....is BENIGN!!!

My husband, who already beat lung cancer earlier this year, had to go for a colonoscopy on Wednesday. We were terribly worried about it, as his father died of colon cancer. Then, when the procedure was over, the doctor told us he had removed three polyps, two of which were quite large. He was concerned that the size made them more likely to be cancerous, and we had no option but to wait on the pathology report.

While waiting, my poor guy ended up getting admitted to the hospital. He started throwing up after he got home from the colonoscopy, and when I took him to the ER they found that not only was he really dehydrated, but his white blood cell count was very high. They were concerned that the procedure might have resulted in a perforated colon, which is rare, but deadly serious. So they had to run lots of tests to make sure that that had not happened. Thank goodness, it hadn't. They are not sure what caused his spike in white cells, but everything is back to normal now and they think he is ok.

And this morning, the doctor came to the hospital room to let us know that the pathology report is in, and the polyps were all benign! I can't begin to tell you how relieved we were. Nothing is worse than waiting for test results like that. We were so very afraid of the worst.

Later tonight, GB will get to come home, with a fresh clean bill of health. Now that the colonoscopy is done, we are certain that he is absolutely cancer free all over. I am beyond thrilled!

Benign: the sweetest word I know.

May wrap up

It's Memorial Day, and as I type this fireworks are going off in the distance outside my office window. There is a pretty pink sunset going on out there, too, and a wide eyed parrot sitting on my shoulder watching the show. He watches the sunset from his office perch most afternoons, but he doesn't know what to make of fireworks. He's staying close to mom (just in case!) but he's mostly just curious. Ginger, on the other hand, is terrified. She is in a corner of the laundry room, refusing to come out or eat dinner. Fireworks are not her thing!

I had every intention to blog more in May, but it's been another stressful couple of weeks. GB continues to deal with side effects from chemotherapy even though his last treatment was a month ago. He's had a great deal of nerve pain (peripheral neuropathy) around his rib cage where his incision was, which is not only painful but makes breathing difficult. He is slightly anemic, which makes him even more short of breath, and is altogether physically weak and run down. A couple of days ago he threw up several times, out of the blue, for no apparent reason. Every day seems to bring something new, and not in a good way. It's been discouraging that he's still so sick this long after the end of chemotherapy. I suppose one month really isn't very long, come to think of it.

Through all these long months of treating the cancer, we were just sure that once we got to this point in the year (early summer) he would be almost back to normal. Just goes to show how little we understood what was about to happen. So we're trudging along here, trying to keep life moving along as smoothly as possible when one partner has a serious illness. Free time to blog has not been available very often, what with a full time job, a sick person needing care, and housework/yard work/pet care being top priorities.

So that was our May--difficult, tiring, and somewhat disappointing. Thank goodness a new month is just around the corner. I'm counting on June to be better!

Last one!

This morning I am taking Gregg to the oncologist's office for his last chemotherapy treatment! YEAH! Soon, I will be doing some writing about this whole experience and all the things I've learned from it. But for now, I am absolutely thrilled that all the medical tests and treatments my poor husband has had to endure are about to be a thing of the past!

And by the way.....FU, cancer.