Cancer Orientation Week

That is what my sister Lauren and I determined that this week felt like.  Cancer Orientation.   Kind of like on the first day of high school where you are scared shitless (I can swear now I have cancer) and you're positive you'll never find your classes and are afraid of really big seniors and on top of that have terrible acne and braces and are slightly overweight.  Or was that just me?  

Except this is way scarier.  Way scarier.  

There is so much we don't know.  Half of what I've been told I've had to go home and look up. 

Monday involved discussing freezing embryos with a fertility doctor, because after chemotherapy the odds of having properly-working lady parts are not that great.  It will be nice to have that in our back pocket just in case we need them.  There definitely needs to be more Goote babies in our future.  We know they'll be cute.  See exhibit A:

Tuesday we met with my oncologist - we like him.  He's very factual and straightforward, but he seems pretty nice too.  The good news is that this is one of the few cancers that the doctors will actually use the word "cured" to describe the possible outcome.   The bad news is that the tumor is "a large mass about 9 centimeters in diameter, pushing into the rib cage and eroding the chest wall."  That is very scary, but the doctor said that this is a normal presentation of this form of cancer, that surgery is not recommended and chemo will typically take care of things.  

Today I had a pulmonary (lung capacity) test, and a chest echo.  The chemotherapy can be toxic to both so they have to test to make sure all is well before starting.  I passed.  Here's a picture Lauren took in the breathing machine:

 We had another appointment at the Fertility Center as well this afternoon - a basic information dump on what to expect and how fast we can get the process going.  The sooner the better. 

Tomorrow will consist of a bone marrow biopsy and a PET/CT scan.  I don't know which one I'm more scared of.  The bone marrow biopsy I've heard is pretty painful.  The PET scan on the other hand is not painful, but will tell us exactly where the cancer is, and if there's any more.  Please pray the bone marrow comes back clear and the cancer is limited to my left side above the diaphragm.  I'm pretty sure that would still classify me as Stage 2.


Friday we have a Chemotherapy Consult with the nurses and right after that I head across the street to the hospital to get my Mediport put in my chest.  The Mediport is how they will administer the chemotherapy.  Then I will have a few days off before I head back to the Fertility Center Monday morning for bloodwork and an ultrasound. 

I feel like we haven't stopped moving.  I think I'm actually looking forward to chemo because we will have a set schedule and hopefully no more crazy weeks like this one.  I have a feeling I may eat those words later. 


So we're all doing pretty good.  I get sad sometimes, but we know we just have to move forward.  Elise is so silly and happy all the time, you can't be sad around her.  We honestly don't know what we'd do without her.  


Tonight we took a little boat ride after dinner.  Boat rides are not exactly relaxing with Elise.  She keeps trying to climb off.  The girl is terrified of a bubble machine but has no fear to jump off a moving boat into 65 foot deep water.