Everything has a beginning

Well, that was easy. So now I'm a blogger! I hope that I will really be able to write about my real trips in the future. For now, the journey is into the medical mystery of cancer. I'm still wrapping my mind around the word. Occasionally I will ask myself "You have WHAT?" So--how did this all start? February 15, 2008, I flew to Calgary, Alberta, for a much anticipated winter trip to Lake Louise. I got to the airport at 6:30 in the morning for an 8:30 flight...that left at 11 something. We got to Calgary safely, but much later than planned. I was supposed to have someone meet me, holding a sign with my name on it, making me feel very important. Missed that. I got to hang around the Calgary airport until my transportation was sorted out. Eventually, I got on a van to Lake Louise, and life was grand. I'd planned on getting there around 2 in the afternoon and got there about six--but I got there. I stayed at the Chateau Lake Louise, on the Gold Floor. My friend Tafline is the head concierge at the hotel, and I let her make all my arrangements. I had a very full four days. Saturday through Monday included Johnston Canyon Ice Hike, a massage, body treatment, a facial, a sleigh ride, dog sledding--and no, I was not the musher, just the passenger--a cross country ski lesson, and snowshoeing on Lake Louise. Most of those were firsts. Monday night, after dinner, I started having horrible abdominal pains. The first thing that flashed through my mind was "Something is seriously wrong." That just couldn't be--I was on vacation and having the time of my life. I then decided it was really bad gas pains or that my innards were just really mad about being crammed into ski pants for three days. It would go away. Tuesday the pain was still there, but I tried to ignore it. I had a massage, worked out in the gym, went swimming, because I think it is really decadent to swim when you can see snow piled up high outside the windows, and had the most magical night of my life--star gazing and a moonlight walk around Lake Louise with a naturalist. It was truly incredible--painful, but wonderful. Wednesday morning, I packed and had a manicure and pedicure, then took a shuttle to the Calgary airport for the homeward flight. The flight was on time. I watched Michael Clayton, so the time passed quickly. Next thing I knew we were back in San Francisco. I was rehabbing knee surgery, so I'd ordered a wheel chair--good thing. The abdominal pains were still there and I could barely stand up. The chair attendant was a prince and got a twenty dollar tip for his kindness. Thursday I went to work so that they would remember what I looked like. Finally, it was Friday again. I started the day with physical therapy for my knee-still in serious pain. My therapist was very gentle with me. I had a regularly scheduled appointment with my doctor in the afternoon. After we exchanged pleasantries, I mentioned that I'd had really bad gas pains since Monday. He did some poking and prodding and asked questions. He then sent me off to the hospital for blood work and a CT scan. It was presenting like appendicitis, but I lost that in 1980 along with my right ovary. I went to radiology first and was informed that I couldn't just walk in for an abdominal CT scan--those things had to be scheduled. I said my doctor seemed to think it was really important, so they called his office where the staff informed them that Saturday morning would be fine, so I made an appointment and went off for the blood draw, then went home. While I was watching a tape of my soap opera, my doctor called. He said, "My staff tells me that the hospital blew you off. This is too urgent. Can you come down now?" Well, sure. I grabbed my knitting bag and was off. Dr. Kubin, my PCP (we're going to be mentioning LOTS of doctors, so it is now time to start naming them) met me in the waiting room. We chatted while I drank the yummy pre CT beverage. He came into the room with me while they prepared me for the CT--which included three attempts before they got an IV started--then waited with the radiologist till he got the results of the scan. There was something there and originally they thought it was diverticulitis. Dr. Kubin asked, "How do you feel about the hospital?" I said, "You mean NOW?" to which he replied "yes." I said I was taking the Snow Train to Reno on Tuesday the 26th, so as long as I was out by then, no problem. I was admitted and put on IV antibiotics. I called my son, Glenn, so that he wouldn't worry that my car wasn't home when he got off work at midnight, and I called my friend, Dory, who would have killed me if I hadn't. She was down in a flash. I gave Dory my house keys and a list of things I would need for my hospital stay--one always needs toys and the knitting bag would soon run out of supplies. Saturday morning, I had a sonogram. The technician asked if I was sure it was my right ovary that they had removed all those years ago. I said yes and I had the scar to prove it. She couldn't find my left ovary. That was not a good sign. Dr. Kubin came to see me Sunday evening with the sonogram results. They saw two masses and concluded that it was probably not diverticulitis but gynecological disease--benign or malignant, and recommended a clinical evaluation. The Snow Train was looking like something that wasn't going to happen. Dr. Kubin said the next person I should see was a gynecologist. I gave him the name and phone number of mine--his practice has been treating me since 1980 when they first found the endometriosis (which a friend said sounded like Greek seafood). My doctor didn't practice in the hospital I was visiting, so various arrangements had to be made. Dr. Kubin spent Monday morning making phone calls. My GYN, Dr. Scheifele, recommended people to Dr. Kubin. The first doctor he recommended told Dr. Kubin that if it was cancer, the best person to take care of me was Dr. Junta Shen, so Dr. Shen it was. He came to see me in the evening. He went over my options--which really were few. I was still in a great deal of pain, so told him to go ahead with surgery. All right, then. I would have clear liquids till 10 in the morning, then nothing to eat or drink and surgery at 6 in the evening. Dr. Shen had to advise me that after the surgery, I would not be able to have babies. I told him that at 60, I'd pretty much come to grips with that 25 years ago. The short version (I know, I know--I don't know the meaning of a short version) is that I have cancer. They removed everything they could see along with various organs. I did not need blood during the surgery, which was apparently a good thing, and it had not invaded any organs that were left. Dr. Shen reported all of this to Glenn and Dory after the surgery. Glenn got a little glassy-eyed and was hitting information overload. He finally asked, "What's her long term prognosis?" Dr. Shen replied that my long term prognosis was good. Glenn breathed a sigh of relief then said that being the case, we could get through anything. I spent six days in the hospital after the surgery, being well cared for. After I got home, I got new doctors. My oncologist would be Karen Chee and I had a date to meet her March 18. I loved her on sight. I have underwear older than she is, but I feel in really good hands. The next steps included Chemo Education and the insertion of a portacath to deliver my chemo, and a date to begin my chemo, April 3. Hold the phone! Easter morning, I was sitting at the kitchen table, having my breakfast, wondering what to wear for church, when I felt a warm, wet sensation on my legs. I tried to ignore it--another one of those "don't think about it and maybe it will go away" moments. Then I looked down and let out a scream. My incision was leaking red and yellow. Glenn and I were off to emergency. So much for what to wear to church. The incision had developed an infection and I was once again a guest at Mills-Peninsula Hospital, this time at the beginning of a 10 day nurses' strike, back on IV antibiotics. I met a new doctor, Dr. Ahmed, aka Dr. Gorgeous, an oncological surgeon, who opened the incision to let the bad stuff out. I stayed in the hospital three more days, then left with a bag full of dressings and new friends, the Visiting Nurses, who would change my dressings and pack the wound. They thought about teaching me how to do it, but I couldn't even see it, let alone change the dressings. Chemo Education was rescheduled to March 31. The Portacath was rescheduled to April 9. The first chemo is now set for April 16. Dr. Shen thinks it may be postponed yet again. I'll see Dr. Chee on the 14th and she will make the final determination. So--this is where we are. I have been sustained by an army of friends, bringing food, visiting, calling, providing rides, and praying. I am anxious about starting chemo. It isn't that I'm looking forward to it, exactly, but the sooner it starts, the sooner it will be over. I'm being overwhelmed with advice and trying to take all of it. Eat healthy, exercise, keep your spirits up. I'm trying. It is all an adventure. I know I will be fine in the end. I have lots of time for my favorite things, knitting, cross-stitch, and reading. I'm even trying to organize my mess of a bedroom--I REALLY have too much time on my hands. You are welcome to come along on this journey with me.
xxooxx