Anticipation and Positivity

The white board on the kitchen counter where we write our “things to do” looks like the old days at Mayo. By old days, I mean November and December, although it seems so much longer ago than that.

It’s Saturday, the day before a string of appointments that marks the end of the 3-month wait since my treatment ended on Christmas Eve. That cluttered whiteboard will ultimately lead to a proclamation of whether my cancer is gone or not.  If it’s gone on the PET CT scan, it means there are no clusters of cancer cells, although there could be a cancer cell here or there — hence why I will have regular scans over the coming years. 

Sunday, I’ll have a Covid test and a blood test. Monday, a PET CT scan and a consult with a nutritionist. Tuesday, an endoscopy to look at where my tumor was, and also to look at my swallowing function. That’s with a camera through my nose. And also Tuesday — drum roll, please — a consult with my Radiation Oncologist about the results of the PET scan. And an appointment with the Medical Oncologist thrown in for good measure. My flurry of appointments ends Wednesday with something called manometry, to measure the amount of internal lymphedema I still have (again with a camera through my nose).  This last one is to support a study I’m participating in.

Here’s hoping that white board on the kitchen counter will be empty again after all that.

I have been both anxiously awaiting and fearing this 3-month mark since my treatment ended. It’s a big day, that will either be liberating or frightening (even though they aren’t opposites), happy or incredibly sad, comforting or frightening (did I already use that?!?), clarifying or muddling (you can get false readings on the first test), or… you get the idea.  It’s a big day.

People talk about being positive during treatment and how much it benefits you and those around you.  I have tried to be positive, although I didn’t accomplish that every day.  I fully believe that being positive makes the treatment more effective, that positivity somehow impacts the results.  Here are my thoughts, linking back to the entire theme of this blog – Cancer in the Time of Corona.  Cancer cells and coronavirus cells have only one purpose, and that’s to survive and spread.  Luckily, Suzy and I have had the vaccine for covid, so we’re good there.  The radiation and chemo I had were like one long, horrible vaccine meant to kill the cancer cells, to keep them from their purpose of surviving and spreading. 

So this is where I am on Saturday morning.  My next post will be after the PET scan.  By the way, all of you out there in Team Fleury Land — good thoughts, prayers, positivity, good mojo, or whatever you have are deeply appreciated. I know in a few days, the science will say what’s gone or what’s there… but one more blast of positivity can’t hurt, right?