still a cancer patient, afterall

last week was a good one; the weather was sunny and warm. the days are lasting forever as we're into june now. my scans came back clear.

but here is a deeper look into how it really went. monday, scan day. leave my condo at 6:45am. pick mom up at home. pet the dog. drive to the hospital. park on the second of three levels. it is very early and already the parking garage is filling up. take the slow elevator to the second floor. check in with the triage nurse, a friendly face this early in the morning. she is just waking up too, but she has a nice cup of coffee or tea. i haven't eaten since 7:00 the night before. wait for my name to be called and head back into the chemo section. sit in one of the recliners in a room without a window and let the nurse, another very friendly face, take a look at my arms for a vein that will cooperate. the thought of this iv almost brought me to tears the night before. i hate iv's. she gets me ready, i look away and breathe. it is in but there's no blood returning when she pulls on the syringe. there's blood there, though, so let's see if this sucker is in. a quick hookup to just a saline drip shows it is in there. i taste the familiar tang of saline in my mouth and smell it in my nose. almost five years now, i know how it goes. i thank the nurse, give a smile, thanks again for doing this deed so many are so bad at. and mom and i are off, back to the ground floor radiology waiting room.

i add my name to the list there. we wait. wait. wait. finally, twenty minutes later my name is called for registration. i hand over the scripts and my insurance card. i start filling out the forms for the ct scan - "past surgeries? allergies? past ct scans? where?" i could fill this out blindfolded, and in my sleep. i'm all set. i wait another five minutes and my name is called again. i go in the back. there is a labyrinth of hallways here. lots of rooms with expensive equipment. i am taken to a waiting area smaller than a walk-in closet and i wait some more. a nurse comes to give me my injection for the bone scan. she is happy to see i have an iv already. we make some small talk, she asks me why i am there. "i'm on a clinical trial for a lung cancer drug and i have to get bone scans every 12 weeks. i don't have cancer in my bones, it turns out, but we wait and see." the radioactive stuff - something having to do with calcium - is on the loose and i go back to mom, still in the waiting room, reading or doing a crossword puzzle. she gets up and gives me a hug. i'm hungry. she knows it.

we go across the street to the main part of the hospital. down to the basement where i used to have radiation treatments, so long ago. this is where i have to go for my ct scan. good thing i am registered already. we go right to the waiting room. i've learned by now as long as i don't wear any clothes with metal - zippers, snaps, underwires - i don't have to put on a gown. i think i have worn a gown once since radiation ended. i hate them. so i sit next to mom, listenting to sports center, and the nurse brings me my barium. it is a big-gulp of liquid, the color of milk but thicker, more like a milkshake, but a phlemgy one. it is disgusting. 32 ounces of this stuff. and i haven't eaten anything today. blah. i close my eyes and gulp some down. the man and woman sitting across from us are giggling and i look at them and say how bad it is. every six weeks. they know, they've been there. mom can't believe i have to drink so much of it. every time? every time. blah. forty-five minutes later i go get my pictures taken. the technician hasn't seen me in a while, but remembers me. take a deep breath in and hold it. you can breathe. repeat. repeat. and i am out of there. that's it? mom usually waits in the front waiting room and doesn't see me drink the barium. she thought the ct scan took a long time. just minutes. it is the drink and the settling that takes the time.

let's EAT. we beat the rush at the sandwich spot at the bottom of penn tower. i get a turkey sandwich on whole wheat, toasted with swiss cheese, lettuce, and pickles. i have a bag of chips and a coke and a huge bottle of water. and this time, screw it, i am getting that delicious-looking sugar cookie, because hell, if these scans come back bad, i'm going to be mad i didn't eat that cookie. we sit, we talk about this and that. i'm sure we laugh a bit. and it is time to go back to radiology for the bone scan. it is like running a marathon these days. we walk and walk.

the nurse had told me to just go back for the scan because they weren't going to be busy that day. i walk back, feeling like i own the place. ha! i sit in the waiting area and she comes, glad i've eaten. i get situated on the table for the bone scan. they have a strap that holds your arms at your side, which is nice, because i like to nap during this scan, and if that strap wasn't there my arms would fall off the table (it is just as wide as my body) and they'd have to re-do the imaging. there's a pillow for behind the knees and it is actually comfortable if you can adjust to the cold. the rooms are so cold because those expensive machines like it that way. funny, cancer patients are so often skinny and hate the cold and all the rooms we are stuck in are freezing. anyway. the bone scan is interesting; the camera is similar to the one used for an x-ray, at least in size. it is lowered down toward my face until you can barely put a piece of cardboard between it and my nose. i promise not to move for the next forty minutes and it starts. the table moves so slowly you cannot even notice it. i close my eyes, open them ten minutes later and realize i have been moving away from the camera, which is now at my neck or so. i close my eyes and the next thing i know the nurse is coming in to move things around so they can scan the sides of my head. i've been snoring. i laugh. the scan of the head is ten minutes or so, the scan of my ribs is another ten, and i am free.

we get in the car and drive home. i'm already sick from the barium, my stomach is making awful noises. i decide to take a nap at mom and dad's. my stomach is so upset, and i have a headache. blah. small price to pay every six weeks. i don't even really want dinner. so you know it isn't any fun.

tuesday. i ride my bike and feel great. i don't sleep so well.

wednesday. i wake up and run three miles. it feels wonderful in the relative cool of early morning during a heat wave. i take care of some odds and ends at work, but mainly i am preoccupied with wondering what the scans said. my appointment is at 3:20. i go home and eat lunch, nap a bit. i am tired. hop in the car, go pick mom up, and off we go. traffic delays our arrival until 4:00 or so. i hate being late. we are the last ones in the waiting room. we're talking to the receptionist from across the room. she's leaving for vacation the next day. it is strange being at the hospital when no one else is there. the waiting room is usually filled. i have my blood drawn and wait a bit. mom and i are called back into the clinic, the rooms where we see the doctors. weight, temperature, blood pressure, and blood oxygen levels are taken. my pain is a zero unless you count the pain in my ass that is waiting for scans. that joke never gets old, for me. we wait in the room for dr. evans. i can hear her walking around in the hallway, oh man, she's walking kind of slowly, this can't be good. she's not smiling when she turns the corner into the room, but looks more confused than sad. this is a new look. i don't know what to think. did you know you were seeing me? yes! and your scans are beautiful! you were supposed to be in a different room, though. that's all. phew. that's all. beautiful. we run through the list - nausea, vomiting, constipation, diarrhea, coughing, coughing up blood, blah blah, all negatives. not me, not now. eyesight is fine. no changes to my meds. nothing is new and everything is. six more weeks!

but the blood test comes back and the wbc is low. they are waiting on my anc. we meet with the research nurse, she is wonderful. she puts in orders for my drug and we wait some more, wondering what is up with my anc. it is related to wbc (white blood count) but isn't the same number. if it is too low i can't keep taking the drug. we wait, we wait. dr. evans comes out, the count is too low. so, we stop for a day or two, i get another test, we see. i am lucky to have these people fighting for me. they'll see whether we can stop the barium that makes me sick. a small victory. and i'll be back in two days to get another blood test. mom and i head home to have cupcakes with dad, it is his birthday and i am so happy i have good news for him. dr. evans heads to the hospital to visit her inpatients. someone always has it harder, don't ever forget it. i am so lucky.

thursday i do nothing but i go to work. otherwise i lay low, take it easy, try to rest in case it helps my wbc. there's nothing to eat or drink to help those numbers. no big steak will do it. but a chocolate milkshake might help.

friday. i let the morning traffic die down. i drive to penn. park the car - third level this time. barely any free spots. i get my blood drawn and i wait. i call the research nurse to let her know i had the test and she can look for results. i go back and visit my chemo nurse, the one who's been there all along. it is like spending ten minutes with a best friend. we laugh, an old man tells us a story, we laugh some more. i wait a little while longer and my phone rings. my anc is 1100. it had to be 1000 to restart the drug. i am in by the skin on my chinny chin chin.

and that was my week. as great as i feel, as wonderful as it is to be able to run, to ride, to do everything i want to do, i am still a patient, and during scan weeks it isn't any easier.