On funny note, Mr. Image was still a bit loopy from anesthesia when the doctor came in to check on him. Mr. Image said to the doctor, "You know I have never seen you without a mask." At which point the doctor pulled his mask down and Mr. Image said, "Never mind put it back."
I had my CAT scan and my bone scan today, they went fine. Nowhere near as uncomfortable as the breast MRI was. But once again I am radioactive enough to have to avoid small children and pregnant women for 24 hours.
Finally the appointed day came around to go and see the boffins at the local teaching hospital. As one of my colleagues says 'what a fuster cluck!' The appointment was at 1pm, three residents appeared about 2pm and had a looksie, then the Dermatologist and the Oncologist finally swept in a 2:17pm. In spite of two biopsies identifying the type of lymphoma that Mrs PDR has he - the dermatologist, had already decided,
"Oh, that looks like a really nasty case of Lichen Sclerosis.' I'll get the Dermatology Clinic to give you a call and make an appointment as I will need to take five more biopsies. However, it is going to be really difficult to treat because you don't tolerate petrolatum or heavy steroids. You really should make an appointment with Dr. W.. She is our expert on Lichen Planus/Sclerosis."
For the record, we ran into Dr. W. a year ago and she spent more time talking to the resident that was tagging along than the patient, and then did not listen to what the patient told her about intolerances, and therefore she managed to prescribe two medications that do something for the lichenoid condition, but would give my wife rattling dermatitis. Yay! Way to go, doc!
By 2.25pm the wife (who used to be a lab. tech., btw) is absolutely fuming. I am thinking that that is the second time that hospital has struck out. She finally came off the ceiling about 7pm, and by 9pm we had discussed what to do next. By 9am yesterday morning shed rung her GP, and got a referral to the cancer clinic at the local hospital. So, next round will be August 11th!
@PDR, So sorry this stuff is hard enough to deal with on its own without those who are to care for us making it even harder. So glad you have the opportunity to change treatment venues. Praying.
After the chemo my daughter didn't want me to be alone so I went home with her and have been there most of the afternoon. The chemo was not as bad as I expected, quite painless and only slightly boring waiting for it to be done.
Tomorrow I go back for an injection to help counteract side effects (of lowering white cell count) and next week I get a blood test. Then chemo again the week after for three more cycles. Then we go to a different regimen.
I've been thinking of you today, @NicoleMR , as I'm sure many of us here have been. I'm glad it went relatively well and even more glad that you have your daughter there to help.
Mr. Image received a report on his hospital stay. Even with google, we are not sure what the test results all mean. Good? Bad? We have an in-person visit with the surgeon next Friday hopefully to have it explained in easy-to-understand lay terms. The doctor seemed very thrilled with instant feedback information to the patient via the internet when he had us sign up. I am not sure how helpful it is.
I agree. I got given the most convoluted description of a freckle I'd ever seen, and even with a PhD in English I had trouble telling whether it was malignant or not.
During my time away from the Ship I managed to have a little cancer diagnosis myself. It was caught early and removed swiftly via a series of major and minor surgeries that knocked me out for about 10 months. I was lucky not to need any further treatment. So much sympathy for those on the thread who have needed the full meal deal of treatment, so to speak.
My rant is that, even though I just passed the 5 yr mark, I haven't been able to have any of my 6-month follow-ups for almost 2 years due to the darn pandemic. I'm assuming I'm technically a survivor now, but I really have no way of knowing.
On another day I will do more ranting about the inappropriate reactions from other people upon hearing about a cancer diagnosis.
On another day I will do more ranting about the inappropriate reactions from other people upon hearing about a cancer diagnosis.
Rant on! This is fertile ground.
My beloved mother-in-law's first reaction was, "Live till you die!" I really couldn't argue with that, and of course, she was right. But it's not always like that.
A bad moment for me was after about four years when a gushing and well-meaning person at church told me how wonderful it was that I was 'cancer free'. Don't ever use that phrase! Even an oncologist (a good one, anyway) would never say it. When things are going well a good phrase is NED - No Evidence of Disease. (That doesn't always work quite so well in places where a 'ned' is a Non-Educated Delinquent...). NED is absolutely accurate, and I may even be cured - who knows? - but the reality is that in many cases there will be traces of cancer lurking in the body that may or may not come back to haunt the patient. We have to accept that reality. I have a friend in his mid 80s who has been through it all and says he thinks he'll probably die with cancer, but not of cancer. I like that approach. When I am introduced to a new contact in the peer mentor group, my usual opening is simply, "How's it going for you?" or "How are you feeling?" Also, I don't own the thing. I'll talk about 'the' cancer, but not 'your' or 'my' cancer.
It's not all about cancer. People who have left the worst behind very often still have invisible side effects - physical and emotional - to deal with, and that can be harder for our well-wishers to comprehend and accommodate. I could do a mega-rant about lymphoedema, but I probably don't need to.
Perhaps a good response to the reactions of others is, "We don't know". There may be millions of them, but every case is different, and treatments are evolving constantly. The cancer I've had to deal with was not treatable a couple of decades ago; now it (often) is. Best of all is a friend who simply joins you for the ride and holds your hand when you need it.
That was a bit of a ramble around the subject, but you caught me when it was on my mind!
I think I'll be the same as the gentleman you mentioned - I'll probaby die with cancer, but not of it!
Today's appointment was quite short, exactly on time and with the Surgeon who will do a lumpectomy under local anaesthetic on 27th August. I very much liked his direct, clear, no-nonsense approach. Surgery needed because biopsies showed cancer, but the lump is very small and very close to the rib cage. I could have opted for a mastectomy, but that's an option that might have to be taken up in the future. There will be a change of medication - although I think there's only one left, I've used all the other three!
I asked the Nurse if Mr K would do the op himself (this is not a teaching hospital) and she said, 'Oh, yes - he's brilliant!' Now, that's the sort of thing I like to hear!
Comments
I hope you get clear results very soon @SusanDoris.
"Less extensive than expected" is one of those phrases you hardly ever hear - wonderful!
I fear the worst for @idj as their last signed in visit to the boards was in May.
"Oh, that looks like a really nasty case of Lichen Sclerosis.' I'll get the Dermatology Clinic to give you a call and make an appointment as I will need to take five more biopsies. However, it is going to be really difficult to treat because you don't tolerate petrolatum or heavy steroids. You really should make an appointment with Dr. W.. She is our expert on Lichen Planus/Sclerosis."
For the record, we ran into Dr. W. a year ago and she spent more time talking to the resident that was tagging along than the patient, and then did not listen to what the patient told her about intolerances, and therefore she managed to prescribe two medications that do something for the lichenoid condition, but would give my wife rattling dermatitis. Yay! Way to go, doc!
By 2.25pm the wife (who used to be a lab. tech., btw) is absolutely fuming. I am thinking that that is the second time that hospital has struck out. She finally came off the ceiling about 7pm, and by 9pm we had discussed what to do next. By 9am yesterday morning shed rung her GP, and got a referral to the cancer clinic at the local hospital. So, next round will be August 11th!
In the meantime, life remains on hold.
/Oh dear, that'sjust too much. All the best for the next appointment.
That sounds about right! But lots of Ship folk will be there cheering you on - you just can't see us all.
I am looking forward to reading that it was perhaps a little less terrifying than you feared and that the care was good.
Tomorrow I go back for an injection to help counteract side effects (of lowering white cell count) and next week I get a blood test. Then chemo again the week after for three more cycles. Then we go to a different regimen.
Thanks for all your good thoughts and wishes.
Praying through for all in need of prayer
My rant is that, even though I just passed the 5 yr mark, I haven't been able to have any of my 6-month follow-ups for almost 2 years due to the darn pandemic. I'm assuming I'm technically a survivor now, but I really have no way of knowing.
On another day I will do more ranting about the inappropriate reactions from other people upon hearing about a cancer diagnosis.
You've had a rough journey with cancer yourself and may the follow-ups, when you get them, have good news.
My beloved mother-in-law's first reaction was, "Live till you die!" I really couldn't argue with that, and of course, she was right. But it's not always like that.
A bad moment for me was after about four years when a gushing and well-meaning person at church told me how wonderful it was that I was 'cancer free'. Don't ever use that phrase! Even an oncologist (a good one, anyway) would never say it. When things are going well a good phrase is NED - No Evidence of Disease. (That doesn't always work quite so well in places where a 'ned' is a Non-Educated Delinquent...). NED is absolutely accurate, and I may even be cured - who knows? - but the reality is that in many cases there will be traces of cancer lurking in the body that may or may not come back to haunt the patient. We have to accept that reality. I have a friend in his mid 80s who has been through it all and says he thinks he'll probably die with cancer, but not of cancer. I like that approach. When I am introduced to a new contact in the peer mentor group, my usual opening is simply, "How's it going for you?" or "How are you feeling?" Also, I don't own the thing. I'll talk about 'the' cancer, but not 'your' or 'my' cancer.
It's not all about cancer. People who have left the worst behind very often still have invisible side effects - physical and emotional - to deal with, and that can be harder for our well-wishers to comprehend and accommodate. I could do a mega-rant about lymphoedema, but I probably don't need to.
Perhaps a good response to the reactions of others is, "We don't know". There may be millions of them, but every case is different, and treatments are evolving constantly. The cancer I've had to deal with was not treatable a couple of decades ago; now it (often) is. Best of all is a friend who simply joins you for the ride and holds your hand when you need it.
That was a bit of a ramble around the subject, but you caught me when it was on my mind!
I think I'll be the same as the gentleman you mentioned - I'll probaby die with cancer, but not of it!
Today's appointment was quite short, exactly on time and with the Surgeon who will do a lumpectomy under local anaesthetic on 27th August. I very much liked his direct, clear, no-nonsense approach. Surgery needed because biopsies showed cancer, but the lump is very small and very close to the rib cage. I could have opted for a mastectomy, but that's an option that might have to be taken up in the future. There will be a change of medication - although I think there's only one left, I've used all the other three!
I asked the Nurse if Mr K would do the op himself (this is not a teaching hospital) and she said, 'Oh, yes - he's brilliant!' Now, that's the sort of thing I like to hear!