Not Going to Torture You

As my doctor eased open the door in the examining room Monday morning, a big smile on her face, she offered, "I don't have anything to torture you with today." Because this appointment was spaced longer than the usual 48 hours because it took a week to get the bone density results, I was able to access the blood test results already. As you probably recall, one of my tumor markers stubbornly remained elevated since last November. The elevated marker won me return visits to draw more blood every two months. I had one pause where the tumor marker went back to normal in January, but since April, the marker slowly rose every two months. Dr. Kohn then ordered a trip for a colonoscopy which yielded the helpful advice to add powdered fiber to my diet. My first blood draw after that was normal, and I was hopeful it would remain the same. Crazy turns happen with cancer, so I still had to press into God's peace before I accessed the results online on Saturday morning. When I scrolled down to the CEA marker, I wanted to shout. 2.2!! I darted into the family room where Walt was watching football and shared the good news with him. What a great start to the weekend!

Dr. Kohn had no idea that I already knew the results of my blood test, but to see an oncologist smile is a wonderful thing. I'm sure her other appointments on that day weren't all so nice and easy. I know tears and anguish are as common in the examining room as smiles and chit-chat. Every time I go into the oncology clinic, I'm amazed at the levity, the smiles, the welcoming comments and familiarity present. I think these are developed because of repeat and frequent visits. Most patients I see have overcome the horror of their initial diagnosis or recurrence and are living the life they are now dealt. One man sheepishly returns for keys he left behind. The receptionist is thrilled that they have been returned to the rightful owner. I overhear pleasant conversations about a funny answering machine message or activities that happened over the weekend. Most of the patients are veterans. New patients stick out with their anxiety and uncertainty written all over their faces. Veterans grab the clipboard offered at checkin, scan the columns to quickly note any new symptoms, and pop back up with the work completed. Newbies take time to read every line, every page. It's still hard to believe I am one of the veterans, comfortable in a place I never thought I'd be, but walking with God in the story He is writing.

Dr. Kohn quickly went over all the results, including my bone density. She was a bit surprised that it was so strong because of how "petite"  I am. I chuckled, not ever considering myself petite. I'm sure my bone strength has its roots in the dairy of Wisconsin and continues through the weight-bearing exercises I keep a priority in my schedule. I don't deny the good family genes, too. We come from sturdy folk.

The one discussion we had was changing my anti-hormonal from tamoxifen to an aromatase inhibitor. In postmenopausal women who are on a aromatase inhibitor, the percentage of non-recurrence goes up a couple of percentage points over tamoxifen.  Dr. Kohn said that isn't significant, so some choose to stick with the pill they already know. The other side benefit of switching, however, is tamoxifen has a very small chance of causing uterine cancer or developing a blood clot, while the AI drugs do not pose this risk at all.  That was enough for me to be persuaded to give it a try. Dr. Kohn said I can always go back to Tamoxifen, since I know the side effects are minimal for me. Some people have no side effects on the AI, but others have experienced achiness in their joints or an over all sick feeling.  Sometimes it'll take a few weeks to feel better, and other times the achiness remains. Every one responds differently. I have the prescription in my purse. I wanted a week of feeling good, basking in good test results, knowing that the tamoxifen I take nightly was good enough for now. I think tomorrow (Friday), I'll venture to the pharmacy and pick up the bottle of pills. If this particular type doesn't work for me, I can try two others. If all of them produce an achiness that takes away from the quality of my life, than I'll go back to tamoxifen. I'm praying that it'll be just another pill I take every night.

By the way, this afternoon before I went for my walk, I put my hair in a ponytail for the first time since 2012, when I had my hair cut short before chemo.

Here is what it looked like in 2012

 Here is a picture of my tiny ponytail today.