Some Good News

The much-anticipated CT scan happened last Friday, October 10th. The days leading up to it were filled with hope, anxiety, fear, and every other emotion that gets jumbled into what those of us in the cancer community call "scanxiety." I'm sure Allina's MyChart website saw a significant spike in traffic that day as I compulsively refreshed the page, waiting for results to post.

Finally, my impatience got the best of me. By Friday afternoon, I decided to tap into a connection—a friend from college who I may have written papers for back in the day, and who now happens to be a doctor in the Allina network. I sent him a message asking if any imaging had posted yet. To my surprise, the images were already there, though the radiologist hadn't yet submitted the official findings to MyChart. After glancing through the imaging, my friend sent a text that made my heart stop: "Kelley, Phillip's liver is half the size it was in May."

Goosebumps.

As I started firing off follow-up questions, the official results posted moments later. While my googling has helped me learn some of the medical jargon, it really is like Japanese to me. Thankfully, my trusty friend, Claude AI, summarized the results as follows:

OVERALL SUMMARY:

1. Liver metastases (spread of cancer) have shrunk – positive response.

2. Lymph nodes behind the abdomen are slightly improved.

3. Sigmoid colon (original tumor area) looks better.

4. Fluid in the pelvis has decreased.

   
   

👉 In short:This scan mostly shows improvement — the cancer in the liver and lymph nodes is shrinking, and there are no new metastatic areas. The few new findings (colon thickening and small lung spots) are most likely treatment effects or mild inflammation, not signs of new disease.

We took this news into the weekend and continued the celebration as we attended the annual Breath of Life Gala for Cystic Fibrosis. Notably, some of my family was recognized for their contributions to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. It was a beautiful evening, and significant funds were raised for the cause. But it was also a poignant reminder that medical battles like ours are being fought on so many fronts, by so many families. This past week has proven that science is amazing and we are all fortunate to live in a time where breakthroughs are made everyday.

Yesterday, Phillip had a chemo appointment and we were able to discuss the scans with Dr. Tatineni. We were eager to meet with her as it had been 3-4 chemo sessions since our last appointment. She walked in the room holding the results in her hand and exclaimed, "this is all really good!" We viewed the scans from Friday compared to May and July and it was truly remarkable to see the significant changes in tumor sizes. Dr. Tatineni also confirmed she no longer saw disease in the peritoneum, bone, or lung. It was also confirmed the tumor thrombus (tumor blood clot) in his inferior vena cava and portal vein had been obliterated. The disappearance of any tumor thrombus means the cancer is responding in multiple ways: shrinking in the liver and clearing from the vascular system. These aren't just incremental improvements, these are dramatic and significant changes. Thank you all for your positivity, prayers, and healing thoughts that helped us get here.

The appointment with Dr. Tatineni was also celebratory because she was on the cover of this year's Top Doctors issue of Minnesota Monthly. While she brushed it off when we mentioned it to her, we were excited for her well-deserved recognition as it only bolstered our confidence in her and the MN Oncology Clinic.

The bittersweet news of the appointment was reviewing Phillip's bloodwork from the morning which revealed his hemoglobin was at a critical level and would require a blood transfusion. Given his hemoglobin has been decreasing with each treatment, we knew it was only a matter of time for a medical intervention.

Unfortunately, the transfusion couldn't be done at MN Oncology, which meant Phillip would need to go to a separate hospital after his infusions. We were told the transfusion would take approximately four hours, turning what was already a long day into a marathon—chemo starting at 8am, followed by a transfusion that didn't end until 9pm. Yesterday was quite the feat of strength and I continue to be in awe of him.

When Lenie asked where Daddy was last night, I explained that "Daddy needed someone's blood." So, when he came home after the transfusion, she shouted, "Daddy, you're a vampire!" Needless to say, it was the laugh we all needed last night.

This morning, Phillip woke up with better coloring and looking more energized - despite the chemo still being infused into him. I am relieved his chronic fatigue is finally being addressed and I look forward to Phillip feeling more like himself.

Although we understand that we are not yet in the clear, we view this as a significant celebration of scientific progress and Phillip's resilience and determination. Cancer is a cruel disease that has deeply affected us, but we are confident in having the best medical support and the strength of an Ironman to keep confronting it as we move forward.