It has been a while since I have written here, and in the meantime I signed up for a Wizard of Oz themed challenge group....so I seem to be thinking in terms of Oz when I think of things lately. And with what I am going to share here, I suppose I could also be talking in terms of twisters and flying monkeys, too. But Lions and Tigers and Bears and a dark and scary forest seem as good a metaphor as any.
Now let's back up to the very last day of 2021, which was intended to come in more like a lamb than a lion.
Run into the New Year 5k....aka New Year, New You (ewe) 5k
We had combined a local race with one of our virtuals, complete with a play on words. It was cold, and I wasn't exactly feeling it, but intended to walk the race. The first two miles were great...but I hit the skids on mile 3. Hard breathing up the hills and a stitch in my side. Still I finished wearing my goofy sheep hat.
I had been struggling on and off since late summer with high blood sugar and while things were improving, I just assumed that this side stitch and subsequent back ache were more of the same. The back ache subsided...the side stitch didn't. It wasn't unbearable, but it didn't feel good. And by the 2nd, I decided I didn't want to wait to see my doctor. So off to Urgent Care I went.
Blood tests and annoying poking and prodding followed (little did I know). At the end, they said that it was likely gall bladder and I should contact my doctor to set up an ultrasound to look for gallstones. They took one last blood test and sent my on my way.
I was barely home when the phone rang. It was the doctor telling me the last test was considerably out of range and recommending that I go to the emergency department at the hospital. So off we went. After much scanning and more poking and prodding, I was admitted with a suspected liver infection. After 2 days of scans and blood tests and biopsies I was sent home with a provisional diagnosis of liver cancer.
One definition of trauma is when you get too much coming at you too fast. The first few weeks of January were traumatic. Finally seeing the oncologist, narrowing down the diagnosis, getting information on top of information, starting chemo.... I studiously avoided Dr, Google to avoid even more (and more confusing) information overload. The final diagnosis was Primary Intrahepatic Cholangiocarcinoma, a rare cancer that starts in the bile ducts. It does not appear to have any environmental or hereditary causes, in short a glitch in the matrix. If you want to know more the best source is the CCA foundation. Only about 8,000-20,000 cases in the US ever year. The prognosis is guarded at best depending on a lot of things. I am not in any particular pain at this point, and am doing my best to move forward.
The emerald ribbon for liver cancers and the bracelet for the Cholangiocarcinoma foundation
Well, that covers the lions and the tigers, but maybe not the bears... because there is more. In late January I had my first chemo treatment. It entails IVs, and about 4 hours of infusions including pre-treatments for nausea and 2 different chemo drugs. It also includes a few days of taking steroids, which is a sure way to drive your blood sugar through the roof if you are a diabetic, which I am.
First chemo. Channeling Ted Lasso and holding the rabbit Glenda supplied, affectionately called chemo bunny
I am hard to get an IV in and the steroids did their business on me...though oncologists don't get too excited about it until your sugars are miserably high. Still I was functioning OK. Was able to get out and walk a little. Even went to the pool for a water run on the second day. The third day I was really tired and out of it, felt like I wasn't hydrating enough. Feeling like I'd tweaked something in my left leg on my workout.
By Tuesday the "tweak" became really painful, and after consulting with the oncologist's office we went again to the ER...and spent 10 hours there. I remember distinctly in triage the doctor pronouncing that I had good pulses in both feet, so she wasn't too worried about a clot. By the end of the day I knew that I had some arthritis in my hip and some disc problems in my back (none of this a surprise...fairly age appropriate)...and good news, no bone metastases. They also did an ultrasound looking for veinous clots. They decided that it was likely some inflammation flaring up, prescribed advil, heat, ice and sent me home.
For 2 days I followed the plan, and it got better, then worse, then better, then worse...you get the picture. Until Thursday after lunch. Glenda noticed that my foot looked funny...kinda of purple and my lower leg was cold. Another call to oncology to tell them, as much as ask them, that we were going back in to ER.
Flashback to Tuesday, only this time the triage doc, a young man, said, "I'm not finding any pulses in the foot or the back of the knee." And quickly apologizing as he reached for the pulse in the groin...which was strong and steady. I remember thinking, "Well shit, that can't be good." but not being being panicked until we were put in a room and they were trying to find pulses with doppler. At that point I freaked out as evidenced by my blood pressure...and was quickly given Ativan, a powerful anti-anxiety med, and rushed off to the CT scan.
The rest of the night is remembered in flashes. Someone declaring that they'd found it. Doctors and nurses dashing in, telling me that Glenda was being brought up to hug me before we went to OR. Glenda's worried face saying they'd found something, but I would be fine and she would be there when I got back to the room. Rolling into the OR and then not much until I was back in the room.
Back from successful surgery.
The it, that they had found was an arterial blood clot, which is rarer than a veinous one, and had not occluded anything by Tuesday. And thanks to Glenda's being observant and getting me there quickly...and the quick work of the vascular team at UW, it appears that the function in my leg has been completely or almost completely preserved. I'm so grateful. But it adds to the long road ahead. It was definitely another trauma...new information, new medication...too much, too fast. It has taken awhile to find our level.
I must say I have an excellent supportive team of family, friends and medical professionals. I feel exceptionally fortunate to be in Madison with a medical school and an excellent comprehensive cancer center in the Carbone Center. And, of course, Glenda....she is my rock. Having them doesn't mean this whole situation hasn't been stressful and traumatic, but it does mean we have support while feeling our way along.
No comments:
Post a Comment