back to work in more ways than one

It is almost impossible to believe it has been two months since July.  I was due for scans yesterday and I didn't have them.  Instead, I had them over the weekend, because I was actually admitted to the neurosurgery service at HUP as of Friday afternoon.  Never fear, I am happily home and gaining back the weight lost from a 24-hour stay at the crappiest hotel imaginable.

Inpatient?  What?  Exactly.  Except for a small fight with the stomach flu midway through August, I have been feeling great - healthy, strong, enjoying summer, and nearly back at the top of my game.  I knew I wouldn't have a problem with these scans.  Turns out, that's kind of far from the truth.  Friday morning I did a typical partner Friday workout at the gym.  I stood in the parking lot, talking to a few friends afterward, before heading home for a shower before heading to work.  When I got out of the shower, I noticed my eyesight was a little blurry and with my history of radiation retinopathy, thought that might be the problem.  I sat down for a moment, closing my eyes, waiting to see whether the change was just momentary.  I sat for about ten minutes, and when I opened my eyes things seemed to have resolved.  Two minutes later, my left arm and side of my face went numb and weak.  I was unable to use my arm and hand to pick up my phone.  I immediately thought I was having a stroke, and called 911.  I grabbed a bag I keep packed in case I have to go to the hospital on short notice, and waited at the bottom of my stairs with the front door open.  By the time the paramedics arrived, the symptoms had gone away completely.  I was short of breath and frightened, having never felt this way.  The responders loaded me into the ambulance and a police officer locked my door and took my bag.  I was taken to Chester County Hospital, where the team contacted Dr. Evans, my oncologist.  I had already spoken to her that morning so she knew I was there and she and Dr. O'Rourke had already started the process to have me transferred to Penn.  A head CT taken at CCH was clear and I was feeling 100% normal.  Jim came down from his office and hung out with me, bringing welcome laughs and much-needed support.  The team who brought me down to Penn via ambulance couldn't believe how close Jim and I are; both women said they rarely see their brothers.  I'm so lucky to say mine is someone I am honored to call my best friend.  He would go to the airport to pick up our parents. then bring them to HUP.  I was destined to find a bed on 9 Silverstein.  I'd been there before.  It isn't great.

Friday night dinner was a turkey sandwich.  I saw Dr. Evans and signed a consent form to allow the hospital to store my clinical trial drug and distribute it to me as needed.  And that's about it.  My roommate and I watched a few episodes of Modern Family and the night was over.  I was tired and slept like a rock until the vampires came calling at 4:30 am.  They actually got a needle in a vein first try and filled their vials.  I went back to sleep until around 7:00.  I was brought down for an MRI, and while I was gone, I missed the doctors' rounds and breakfast.  I had hoped to talk to the docs and get a better idea about what the heck was going on.  No luck.

Brad and Katy were en route to Doylestown from the airport and it was a welcome surprise to see them for a little bit Saturday morning.  They were willing to break me out, but I decided to play by the rules.  I thought we would have results soon, and everyone seemed to be working hard to get me discharged; I was supposed to be headed to Manassas, VA to pick up a black lab on Sunday!  Everyone was excited, nurses, aides, doctors.  Free Liz!  Get her dog!  A neurologist came in and said the MRI looked ok, but they were waiting for the official report from radiology.  The event seemed to have been a seizure, not a stroke.  Because I hadn't lost consciousness, they agreed to discharge me without an EEG; I have to take Keppra, an anti-seizure medicine, but I could go home and resume regular life.

Thinking I was free to fly, feeling a little bummed about the news, but excited to get out, it was just a matter of one report keeping me there.  Unfortunately, as the hours went on, I learned there was "a lot" to go over before I could leave.  The first explanation of why there had been such a wait was less than adequate.  There was a spot that appeared to be "bleeding into itself" in my right temporal lobe.  There might be more.  This info didn't sit well with me, and I wanted to understand exactly what was going on.  Another doctor came in and explained things in detail.  The spot that appeared to be bleeding was most likely a tumor, and an unhealthy one.  It was probably in the process of dying, but Dr. O'Rourke wanted to treat it anyway, to be sure.  Another spot, in my right occipital lobe, would need gamma knife as well.  How did we get from clear in July to this?!  I'm not sure.  They're not sure.  Are those spots causing seizures?  Not sure again.

Today I saw Dr. Evans and the good news is I can stay on my study drug because my chest CT scan was clear.  At the same time, she is looking into different drug options that might work better in the brain, since mine has a propensity for growing cancer.  I meet with Dr. O'Rourke, my neurosurgeon, next Tuesday.  I then follow up with my neurologist October 8.  And EEG will be performed September 21.  Neurology will be dealing with the "why did this seizure episode happen?" side of things, and manage the Keppra.  Neurosurgery manages the treatment of the tumors in my noggin.

All of this is a lot, and so soon after the last gamma knife, feels maybe a little unfair.  I won't sulk long.  I had a great end of summer, visiting the lake, the beach, and seeing lots of friends.  The best thing is my new sidekick, Peachy.  She's a black lab, raised south of the Mason-Dixon line.  She moves with an almost deliberate slowness, and reminds me of summer in Mississippi, working for the SCA - the heat and humidity seemed to keep people in 4th, not 5th gear.  She's definitely in 4th.  I already love her and she seems to think I'm ok, too.  All I need to do is teach her about going up and down stairs.  She has been well-loved by her breeders, and I've promised them she'll always be loved here.  It won't be tough.

I have to cut it short, Peachy needs to go out and I need to go to sleep.