Three hundred and eleven

Three-one-one, tres-uno-uno.  How is that possible?

Last August I finally bit the bullet and set up all of my yearly physicals. Things I haven't done since I was a child because I abhor waiting in a doctor's office for five minutes of care which costs me well over $100.  I just feel it's stupid. Our insurance company didn't agree with me. They made it mandatory.  Fine.

Ok, I'll go, but I won't like it. 

Anyone who has read any of this blog knows that I have been trying to lose weight for two years. And in that time my weight has yoyo-ed as dealt with mama's cancer and then death. So when I made these appointments I was expecting bad news. At my heaviest before all of that I weighed 296lbs.  And that was bad. So I was thinking maybe 300, possibly even 305. I mean it was going to be bad, but I had lost down to 276 at one point, so really how bad could it be?

Well let me tell you, it was bad. When I stepped on those scales my weight was 311lbs.  That was apparently the shock I needed because for 3 months I kicked my tail into gear and lost a total of 18lbs, bringing my weight down to 293.  Then came Thanksgiving and Christmas, both really hard times for me in terms of emotional eating. It's when I miss mama the most, when I think of her most. December is her birthday and Christmas and every time I turn around I am wishing she was here. So I pretty much gave up again. And I did it willingly. I did it knowing what I was doing.  January rolled around and I had my first visit with my new gynecologist.  I stepped on the scale and shocked myself again 307 lbs. All of that work that I had just done was gone. I was almost back to my starting weight in August.

Are you freaking kidding me?!

And you know what the worst part was? I couldn't blame anyone. I knew what I was doing when I did it.  My doctor had told me when I went to see her in August that if I needed some help, she could probably prescribe something. I wanted to try and do it on my own first, no help. Because I knew I could. Also because what good is a pill that makes you not hungry when hunger doesn't figure into my extra eating? I don't have to be hungry. I don't have to be anything. I love food. And it gives me comfort. When I am happy, sad, excited, bored, whatever. And sugar is the worst for me. Sugar is my drug of choice. 

So once again I find myself rebooting my diet, no pills still. Exercising my body and my demons. I firmly believe that I can do this. And if you've read this all before and are rolling your eyes, keep rolling them. The only time you ever fail at anything is when you stop trying. And I'm not giving up!


Picture credits: First/Second

Survive Now, Cry Later

September 2012 my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer.  She had been bitten by a spider a couple of months earlier and had a persistent cough. Apparently spider bites can cause congestion and breathing problems so nothing was thought of her cough. Fast-forward a couple of months and the cough is still hanging around. She was sent for an X-ray and a lump was discovered in her right lung. She was then sent for a biopsy to figure out what kind of cancer she had.  Then we went to her lung doctor to find out what the results of the biopsy was.  Adenocarcinoma.  We went for a PET scan to see what the full extent of it was.  And then on to the cancer doctor to find out what stage her cancer was and her prognosis.  



Only we didn't get stage or a prognosis.  My mother is a rare breed, she always has been. And apparently her cancer is no different. 

When the PET scan was finished they found a lesion on her right humorous, a 5cm growth on her right ovary, and a slightly smaller one on her left, the original tumor in her right lung, and numerous nodules on her lymph nodes. At this point he tells us that if she's stage three then with treatment the average life span is 15 months.  If it is stage four, and it's looking a lot like stage four at this point, then it's two months.  So multiple tests were needed and "then we'll know what course of action to take".  I asked would we know what stage she was. "We should"  I took that as a yes. I should have paid better attention to that should.  She then underwent a bone biopsy on her right arm. This came back inconclusive, as the biopsy doctor told us it would.  He said that when they do these things they never want to say "There is no cancer here". Because what if later they find cancer in that spot, and then the doctor who said that is on the line. So they say that the test is either positive or inconclusive. Which means that they didn't find any cancer there, but they can't say for sure there isn't any. 

After the bone biopsy came back clean they had to biopsy her lymph nodes. They wanted to know if the cancer in them would be lung or ovarian. It is extremely rare for a person to have two types of cancer at one time, but it has happened.  At this point my mother and I have been in either doctor's offices or hospitals for about three weeks. We're exhausted and slightly irritable.  Mom has the biopsy done on her lymph nodes and they come back lung cancer. 
"Great," we think, "we're finally getting somewhere"
Haha, funny.  So we return to the cancer doctor who tells us that this is "good news"  lol Seriously? She has cancer in her lymph nodes and this is good news?  No actually the good news is that it wasn't ovarian cancer.  So (they think) she only has one type of cancer.  But just to be safe they need to send her to the gyno-oncologist.  They want him to take a look at her ovaries and decide if this is something that needs to be addressed of if it can be ignored.  The gynoc, as I have come to call him, does an ultrasound and says he thinks that what is on her ovaries are cysts.  He isn't sure, but he thinks so.  He orders a CA 125 blood test and her levels come back slightly elevated. But this is still not a 100% indication of anything. 

At this point they have been poking, prodding, and cutting on my mother for 2 months. We've had enough. At our next doctor's appointment we tell him so.  We're tired, according to what he told us to begin with she should be dead already, and we're doing nothing. Enough is enough, make a guess, but do something.  He tells us that the fact that she is still alive and is doing so well gives him hope that it's stage 3.  We have to wait one more week while he goes to consolidate with his colleagues about what course of treatment is best.  No more tests, no more prodding, just wait one week.  The next week we are set up on a chemotherapy regimen   The wise ones have decided that she'll undergo four rounds of chemo, repeat her cat scans, and we'll see what happens. If the things on her ovaries shrink with the chemo, they're probably cancer. If they don't, they probably aren't.  And at that point we'll revisit the option of radiation, which means we're trying to cure her of cancer and that she is stage 3.  

Fast forward to last week, she's finished her four rounds of chemo and she has had her scans.  Now we're waiting for the results. We're finally going to know what stage she is and whether we are going for a cure or trying to prolong her life. Doc comes in and tells us on the most recent scan the spot on her humorous is gone ("But I don't think that was cancer related anyways"), the things on her ovaries are unchanged ("That's good, but I want to do another CA 125 test since her levels were elevated last time"), the main tumor in her lung shrank, but some of the nodules on her lymph nodes grew. Her doctor said that it is probably stage 3 and that he is leaning in that direction. He's going to talk to the... well the doctor who decides whether or not she can have radiation treatments and see if she can.  And if so then we're going to do that. If not then we do maintenance chemotherapy.  

She has to have 2 more rounds of chemo now. One Tuesday and one three weeks from now.  And by then we'll have an answer about the radiation.  I hope we can go for a cure. But I wish it was possible to have a final answer. My mama's case is just so different it's about impossible. 

I sit here typing this dry eyed and with a lump in my throat. I would love to tell you I have cried till I can't cry anymore. But the truth is that I'm detaching myself from it. I can talk about it, I can joke with mama about it, I can have the most positive attitude you've ever seen. You'd think we think Cancer is a big joke. And I can do all of this because I don't actually think about it.  If I started to type here about how my life will change once she is gone, I would lose it.  I can't do that. What I can do is enjoy whatever time I have left with my mother. And when she is finally gone, and I don't have to be strong and upbeat anymore. Then I will deal with all of the emotions that are making my chest hurt. I will handle all of the things that I push down now.