My thoughts are a LITTLE more collected today. This is the way I see it.
Who cares about 2 more months chemo, the PICC, the injections the pain, sickness, tiredness, hospitals blah blah blah. I've done 4 months, I can do 2 more. It won't be nice but I can handle it.
However, the prognosis is different. I have just taken a giant leap out of the 'most likely to be cured' box and into the 'least likely to be cured' box. The ramifications of that are too big to consider, I'm going to have to try to forget about it. Forgetting that after the next few months you're likely to require further, stronger chemo and a bone marrow transplant is tough. Forgetting that you're much more likely to die than previously considered is tougher. Forgetting that a scary percentage of people who have been in my exact situation have not made it is impossible. Not to be too negative or anything....
I'm sorting out a second opinion on whether or not I should be continuing this line of treatment at all if it's not working (which is still up for debate seeing as they are arguing between the terms 'partial response, complete response and near-complete response to therapy). I also might push for another scan before making decisions. It's been 2 months since the last one so things could have changed a lot in that time. Finally, I'll be organising a mass drive-by egging of the doctors who, despite there being disagreement, chose to tell me that I was in remission, needed less treatment and was on my way to a cure. Let me know if you'd like to participate. They deserve more than an egging in my opinion but lucky for them I'm a pacifist. That or Nick has talked me down.
I am definitely not ready to die yet (nor am I ready to stop being dramatic it would seem) and there's still a fair amount of fight in me. You're strong, pacman. I'm stronger though (hope he doesn't know how scared I am, the fighting talk is a lot less convincing if you're crying). As someone told me today, statistics are useless when I'm involved (you know who you are - thank you, that statement really made me smile!) and I'm planning on really blowing them out of the water this time.
Now, back to my puppy kisses. I'm lucky really.....see?
Who cares about 2 more months chemo, the PICC, the injections the pain, sickness, tiredness, hospitals blah blah blah. I've done 4 months, I can do 2 more. It won't be nice but I can handle it.
However, the prognosis is different. I have just taken a giant leap out of the 'most likely to be cured' box and into the 'least likely to be cured' box. The ramifications of that are too big to consider, I'm going to have to try to forget about it. Forgetting that after the next few months you're likely to require further, stronger chemo and a bone marrow transplant is tough. Forgetting that you're much more likely to die than previously considered is tougher. Forgetting that a scary percentage of people who have been in my exact situation have not made it is impossible. Not to be too negative or anything....
I'm sorting out a second opinion on whether or not I should be continuing this line of treatment at all if it's not working (which is still up for debate seeing as they are arguing between the terms 'partial response, complete response and near-complete response to therapy). I also might push for another scan before making decisions. It's been 2 months since the last one so things could have changed a lot in that time. Finally, I'll be organising a mass drive-by egging of the doctors who, despite there being disagreement, chose to tell me that I was in remission, needed less treatment and was on my way to a cure. Let me know if you'd like to participate. They deserve more than an egging in my opinion but lucky for them I'm a pacifist. That or Nick has talked me down.
I am definitely not ready to die yet (nor am I ready to stop being dramatic it would seem) and there's still a fair amount of fight in me. You're strong, pacman. I'm stronger though (hope he doesn't know how scared I am, the fighting talk is a lot less convincing if you're crying). As someone told me today, statistics are useless when I'm involved (you know who you are - thank you, that statement really made me smile!) and I'm planning on really blowing them out of the water this time.
Now, back to my puppy kisses. I'm lucky really.....see?
Hi Sona,
ReplyDeleteStay the course, and don't you EVER think of giving up, Remember this "when going gets tough, the tough gets going".
Lots of love from all of us in Los Angeles.
PS: Egging them? HAH ! I'll give them A LOT more, That doctor is lucky that I don't live in Ireland.
Koko Loco
I have asked for a medical opinion and have been advised that the 3.1 measurement that gave rise to the extra chemo could easily have been 2.9 (allowing for statistical errors) and that the doctor is being cautious in that he is assuming it is not a statistical error. Therefore, do not read too much into the 3.1.
ReplyDeleteYou will kick pacman's ass yet. How could you not with Louie (and the rest of us) on your side!