Slow and Steady Wins the Race

Phillip had his CT on the 13th and in true Kelley fashion, I lost my patience. Refreshing browsers, clicking through all the possible tabs of a website, I searched high and low to see any clue of what our future may look like. To live from scan to scan creates minute dreams and this truncated version of life has taken a lot to try and accept.

Unfortunately, refreshing my browser didn't magically reveal the results or our future. However, we were able to meet with Dr. Tatineni this morning to discuss the findings. The craziness in me likes to walk into scan review appointments with my list of questions and walking into this unprepared felt unintentionally nonchalant.

It turned out that thoroughly examining every detail of the CT findings was almost unnecessary, because for nearly everything we'd been watching, the word was "improved." The lung nodules are improved. The liver masses are smaller and the liver overall looks better than it has in awhile. The mass in the pelvic bone is smaller too. A huge weight lifted as we walked through the report, and I realized the lorazepam I'd proactively taken wasn't necessary.

There were a few new spots the radiologist flagged too, but we are unsure what they are yet, which caused just enough questioning to earn us another round of scans. And I guess we will keep trying to accept this ongoing life limbo.

This positive glimmer is the one we had been really looking for. Our hearts were shredded from the April scan showing "disease progression" and seeing the phrase "improved metastatic disease" has placed more pep in our steps. This morale boost proving "the fight is still on" has been re-energizing. We know too well that things can change in an instant, but for now we will soak in this positive energy.

Despite the encouraging news, a few side effects caused by chemotherapy were also observed. The CT scan revealed thickening of the colon wall, which is being diagnosed as chemo-induced colitis. This is worrisome because if it doesn't resolve, it could lead to permanent damage. Somewhat bittersweet, this diagnosis has led to a pause in chemotherapy for this week's cycle.

When we arrived home from the doctor appointment, Lenie asked about the scans and then bluntly asked, "Did they figure out why you are farting so much?" This stopped us in our tracks as we caught our breath between laughs. Phillip proudly responded, "Yes, yes, they have."

Tomorrow, we leave for Amsterdam for Lenie's 8th birthday present trip. We are taking this amazing news and a fart joke abroad and will live in the joy of this scan and the fraction of future we now know.