So much depends upon...

so much depends 

upon

a red wheel

barrow

glazed with rain

water

beside the white

chickens

No, I promise I haven't lost it, but this poem by William Carlos Williams, "The Red Wheelbarrow", comes to mind often these days. Our 10th grade English class had to memorize it, our first of many. Mr. Woods would write the poem of the week on the board on Monday and come Friday we were responsible for writing it down for him at the start of class. Inevitably in the study hall before English, my friend Greg would look me full in the face and ask, "do you know your poem?" Often this prompted panic. 

Bless sweet Greg, he wasn't even in my class, but he would then have me write it again and again while he checked it against the original. After the bell, I'd scoot into English and regurgitate what I'd just crammed. It almost always worked, but poetry is sneaky and some of them have wormed their way into longer term storage in my head, like parts from "The Emperor of Ice-Cream" by Wallace Stevens or "The Bean Eaters" by Gwendolyn Brooks. Don't despair, those of you who fear poetry in its many forms; that's not what this post is about. But the first line rings true in real life when you are worrying about or fretting over or trying to plan for XYZ but the people involved in your life are still squabbling about what happened (or if something happened a certain way) all the way back at PQR. For those times you don't want to be WAITING because you want to be DOING, when so much depends upon.... whatever... THAT is how this post rolls. Right now, my life is a big if/then equation and we all know how much I avoid math. So much depends upon... 

the undetermined.

Part of the uncertainty is, "should I get a port? Am I going to need chemo?" The answer appears to be, "let's see what the lymph nodes say." If the lymph nodes have gotten involved, (and I can hear my Nana cautioning me to "not get involved" in something, for some reason), then I would need a port which they want on my left side this time, so I'll have matching scars. Just kidding. It's so it'd be out of the way of the stuff that HAS to happen on the right side. They also have a good idea of the chemo and hormone drugs they'd be using. It sounds like it's 4 sessions, every other week, of two unpronounceable chemo drugs, followed by 12 weekly sessions of Taxol. Then there'd be another pill for 5+ years, and the probability of getting my ovaries and/or tubes out. If chemo, then no hair again, which is perfectly fine as it streamlines my morning routine. My only lament would be, "crud, look at all this hair product going to waste... heeeeeeyyyyy, Thing Twoooo..."

A worried part of my brain whispers, "you're older now- this will be harder." A belligerent part of my brain snaps, "you're stronger now- this will be fine." A desperately-clutching-for-solid-ground part of my brain reminds, "we don't even know that there's lymph node involvement yet so all of this might be a moot point!*" At this point, my bum sighs in relief because I really do not look forward to potentially months in the bathroom. If chemo, then buy Imodium stock. Good thing we have plenty of toilet paper.

*Apparently there's a discrepancy about lymph nodes. My mastectomy surgeon was adamant that he didn't remove any. The pathology was read as 1 of 3 removed were cancerous. There's been discussion about was the "1 of 3" supposed to read something different. My oncologist says they're tiny and maybe he did remove one/some. At this point I don't know if we'll ever know, so that's a crux for all this. We DON'T know if there is/was lymph node involvement and so much depends upon lymph node involvement!

Regardless, surgery happens mid-September so I have the rest of this summer and back-to-school to continue to get stronger, to stay healthy, to get my ducks in a row, because surgery entails, guess what, more if-thens:

Surgery will definitely be 1.) tumor removal. A few hours before that happens, Dr A will be injecting a radioactive, blue dye into the tumor area and another spot somewhere in my breast tissue (that's called dual injection) so that the dye can be absorbed into the lymph system and light it up. This freaks me out for two reasons. One, very few people are allergic to the dye, and there's no way to predict who will be, but if I have a bad reaction they abort the whole thing and that's after waiting at least 6 weeks for the surgeons involved to have their schedules align for this. Two, she says these injections feel like angry hornets, and you are awake for them because it takes an hour or two from what I've read for that dye to be taken up to be seen effectively and they don't want you sedated all that time. Even if they numb the skin, the injection goes in, and we all know how super I do with needles. I hope they can restrain me so I don't come up swinging! Poor doctor. I hope she knows what she's signing up for.

So once I'm lit up, as opposed to just being lit, I guess, they'll put me under, she will do 1.) the tumor removal and 2.) what she calls lymph node mapping. She doesn't hold out a lot of hope for the mapping part of the procedure as it doesn't usually work well on post-mastectomy patients- the lymph nodes might have gotten scooped out during the breast removal, or damaged to the point that they don't take up the dye and therefore are hard/impossible to find, and so forth. She is willing to try and since she's at a teaching hospital, I figure we should go for it. Especially because this is THE PLAN- this is what we're praying for: 

-The dye is going to be fine, no allergy, no reaction.

-The sentinel lymph nodes will be present and accounted for. There could be up to 4 sentinels. They will all light up and be removed easily.

-The pathologist who will be right there to check them immediately (since I'm a recurrence** case, I have that benefit) will see that they are clear with no evidence of any cancer. Naked, in other words. 

**There's even some discrepancy here. We asked if this is old cancer since it's the Her2/neu- part of the tumor instead of the Her2/neu+ that it was previously OR if this is a new tumor. Nobody knows.

At that point, if those three things happen, then Dr A can close me up and send me on my way. That is Plan A. That is the only plan. I don't even want to speak the rest out there lest the universe get any ideas. THAT IS WHAT IS HAPPENING. This is THE PLAN. 

If those 3-4 sentinels can't be found (and there's been a lot of joking about "naked sentinels") then Dr A will do a lymph node dissection, removing 2/3 of the nodes on my right side. Messing with any of them increases my chance of getting lymphdema, which is a life-long battle with fluid accumulation. Your lymph system is like your sewer system- they clean you up and get rid of toxins and all that jazz. If they all go missing during surgery or whatever, then you risk buildup of fluid and all the stuff in it which causes swelling, increases risk of infection, and all kinds of fun and games. So it's a "we don't want this" thing. To take out a bunch of your clean-up crew is not ideal, but getting lymphdema would be worse. Which is why the doctors on my team would then want me to undergo a pLVB. That's short not for the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board, but prophylactic Lymphovenous Bypass. The plastic surgeon who's been waiting on deck now steps in to take the cut/blocked/stopped lymph vessels and reroutes them into veins. This can take awhile as he has to find suitable veins and match them with the lymph vessels. More dye is involved as well, from what I understand, but I will be mercifully under at that point and won't care that they're injecting it into the webbing between my fingers so that it can trace up my arm. To ballpark it, Dr A's part of surgery could take 1-2 hours and the plastic surgeon could be 2-3 additional hours. I'd be in compression boots on the table and everything would be slowed down because of the anesthesia (WOOHOO! I SPELLED IT RIGHT FIRST TRY; I NEVER GET THAT RIGHT, YOU GUYS!) They'd be watching me extra closely for potential blood clots, DVT, etc, which are always surgery risks anyway but they increase the longer you're on the table. 

Here's the kicker. The bypass part doesn't even always work. There's no way to predict who will get lymphdema. The plastic surgeon told us that "sometimes you remove one sentinel lymph node and that person gets it. Sometimes you remove a bunch of them and that person doesn't. There's no way to know. You have a great BMI and are active. Both of those are pluses. But you had radiation, and that's a strike against." With the removal of 2/3 of them on one side... I don't even want to think about it. 

A chipper part of my brain pipes up, "but you had a bilateral mastectomy which is a way bigger surgery and have had zero issues for 5 years, so we're good!" And the crabby part of my brain grumps, "yeah, but supposedly no lymph nodes were removed so who knows?" I am living the "Inside Out" movies, I'm telling you. 

I'll have at least a surgical drain, my favorite. Supposedly that comes out around 2 weeks later. I'll only be allowed to raise my arm at a 45 degree angle at first if the pLVB happens, and 90 degree if doesn't. Not to lift anything over 3 pounds on that side, I think, for pLVB and slightly heavier if not. If the lymph nodes are involved and come out, then I'd have about a month to heal before they let me start chemo. The thinking there is that they want all the healing teams in your body to work solely on the surgical site versus being spread out hither and yon dealing with chemo effects. in addition to a surgical wound. Makes sense. Plus, (because you bet I asked if I could start chemo and get that first section done before surgery) you have the surgery first so that the pathology can indicate what chemo doses are needed even though my doc already knows what specific drugs she'd prescribe. If I did chemo first, that could mess with size or whatever. It's enough for me to know that it could goof that part up, so no, I must wait. 

And breathe. 

And exhale. And breathe.

And live my life.

And think up wild, improbably hilarious stories to tell when people ask about my scars.

And not obsess about a possible additional surgery which I'd already be asleep for and wouldn't know happened until I woke up in Recovery anyway. You can bet as soon as I'm lucid and they tell me I had clear lymph nodes that you'll hear a "YESSSSS!" as I pump my left fist in the air! That's likely after I try it with my right side and can't lift it, haha.

So, you have your homework, praying and spreading the word to pray for:

1.) No dye allergy/reaction

2) Lit up sentinels who are easily found & easily removed by my delightedly surprised Dr A

3.) Sentinels then declared "naked and clear" by the astounded pathologist so I get sewn up and kicked out because I'm now NED- no evidence of disease!

That's THE PLAN. You may be excused with much gratitude!

I'll leave you with another lovely poem from 10th grade, "The World Is Not A Pleasant Place To Be" by Nikki Giovanni, because it is thanks to your intercession, my tribe, and God's grace that is getting me through all of this nuttiness!

The world is not a pleasant place

to be without

someone to hold and be held by.

A river would stop 

its flow if only

a stream were there

to receive it.

An ocean would never laugh 

if clouds weren't there

to kiss her tears.

The world is

not a pleasant place to be without

someone.

Ohio's high summer beauty

Been doing a fair bit of waiting lately. Waiting for scans to happen, waiting for the results, waiting for the follow up to talk about the results and to set up the next thing, as one does. 

Waiting is easier when walking. That's why pacing was invented. Since you can't always pace in a doctor's office because it tends to make non-pacers nervous, I gotta get that energy out somewhere. Often I go outside where sometimes you get beautiful flowers or fun friends along your walk.

That redwing blackbird was posing so nicely until I took my phone out to actually frame him. Then he turned head on and kept fluttering to different shrubberies and I couldn't get his handsome stripes. Hold still! I just want to take your picture!

"Blue weed" is what they're called, but I love them!

I love that water bird. We've discovered there are at least two of them in our area. They're shy and often we'll see them because we've startled them into flight with those huge wingspans. I always say a joyful hello, at least in my head, and it's all one word: helloooooWaterbird!

We skipped the garden this year (as in, "you would be horrified if I sent pictures of the crop of thistles!") , but you know what we also have a good crop of? Cattails! 

 

Happy birthday, Maudie!

Happy birthday to my Maudie, who celebrates her 95th birthday today! WooHOOOO! We love you! Your gift is in the mail, but here's some early morning Ohio sun photos for you. Have a wonderful day, special lady!

 

A serving of good news

 This isn't the post that's been rattling around in my head for awhile, but since everyone enjoys good news, *spoiler alert* it doesn't appear the cancer has spread. 😁

Tuesday was my back-to-back MRIs to investigate the spots that lit up on my PET scan. For those of you new to the party, in addition to the spot in my right axilla /armpit lighting up, a spot on my thoracic spine #10 and my abdominal adrenals, which sit above your kidneys, also were bright. 

The adrenals' results came in on Thursday as "no distinctive mass on right or left side" and were declared "good" as in "no cancer." Why were they bright then? Since they are hormone-driven glands, it could be several things. I asked if it was perimenopause and the nurse who was giving me the results said she did ask if it was age related, but there was no apparent clear answer. Bottom line- no cancer.

The spinal results came in Friday- which is mind-boggling as I was physically in the machine within the same hour for these two tests but whatever- and was also good news. No spot on the bone, meaning no cancer mass, though now T6 and T7 also lit up as having something degenerative going on, possibly arthritis. Meh. Not bothering me. Noted.

In addition, they saw "something" in my lumbar area which looks to be a(?) dural ectasia. I don't know if it's a single area or the whole thing or what exactly, but I still haven't learned my lesson and looked it up to discover that dural ectasia is an enlarging or widening of the dural sac which surrounds the spinal cord. It can cause back pain -aha!- and leg weakness. The dural sac provides nutrients and buoyancy to your spinal cord and is the sheath of spinal fluid. Thank you, Wikipedia. Fascinating! So maybe it's not arthritis in my lower back and that's why it didn't light up on the PET scan as inflammation. (This is all me thinking out loud.) Something to be aware of, I suppose. Bottom line: also no cancer in my bones. Yippie!

So those results were being sent straight to my Dr A in the city in addition to my previous scans. My oncologist here is going to talk with her and set up a plan for what's next. As far as Myself-the-layperson can tell, I only have the one spot in my right armpit area and nothing has spread elsewhere. In theory, that should mean surgery to remove it and then I'd once again be NED- no evidence of disease. I'm sure there will still be the hormone therapy after that, along with a talk about whether my ovaries should come out or not, but I'm wondering if there will be chemo in addition since it's now HER2- or if it won't be needed because it is isolated. We will just have to see what the doctors decide. I'm going to try to stay away from the endless scrolling of search engine results for drugs and treatments and scaring myself silly with survival rates when I have no idea what my professionals might recommend for this exact body of mine. 

In the meantime, y'all can focus on the "woohoo, no cancer spread" part! Thank you for the prayers and goodies and endless support, as ever. You all are the BEST. 🍦🍧🍨

It is finished.

All done! Only missing five of 1000 pieces, three of them from around the edges. Is the dog responsible? He’s not sayin’.

 

Which end is up?

The short version of this post is this: further testing still required, which we already have scheduled so that's not what was surprising to us. There. You may be excused.

For those of you who like the nitty gritty of the details, have we got a story for you.

We stayed with friends Sunday night rather than attempt that drive first thing through Monday morning rush hour in the city. No issues there: found the place amidst all the other hospitals in town, got a parking place, got checked in, all no trouble. 

We met some of the nurses, one of the main doctor's partners, two of the med students, two nurse practitioners, and the main reason we're there, Dr. A. Everyone was helpful, kind, knowledgeable; I felt like while it's an overwhelmingly big complex that those I interacted with knew what they were doing and who needed to speak with whom and it felt like "well-oiled machine" though not in a bad way. I appreciated that people know what they're doing in part of a much larger whole and can be human and compassionate at the same time.

Apparently I've gone from being medically boring aside from cancer to... less so. As ever, cancer throws quite the learning curve. Part of what we learned yesterday is that some things diagnostically-speaking may be called something specific but it may still involve a lot of gray area. I'd never thought about that before because it was above my pay grade, haha. So when I was informed six years ago that I was "triple positive" I took their word for it. That meant my cancer was estrogen positive, progesterone positive, and HER2 positive. Fine with me- apparently that's the "good" kind to have because with the HER2 positive there's a lot more tools used against it. For example, I had Herceptin and Perjeta infusions through my port for a year and those were hormone drugs to deal with the HER2+. Then I followed that with a year of a drug called Nerlynx- those little blue pills that you need the other little blue pills for. In other words, as your body adjusts to the drug you go through stock in Imodium. 

And it worked. (Not just the Imodium, though that's a life saver!) I've been NED which stands for No Evidence of Disease since September 2018 until this lump I found this spring.

The initial thought was that this lump is a lymph node that held onto some yucky stuff all this time. Dr A, who is a breast cancer specialist and geneticist, had me do another ultrasound yesterday so they could further examine this lump because she feels based on the location that it could be a tumor in actual breast tissue versus a lymph node. 

You're thinking, "wait, she had a double mastectomy- how does she have any breast tissue left?" Good thinking! However, there's no real "boob stops here" line during surgery; the surgeon scoops as much out as they can whilst preserving your chest wall muscle and muscle around your underarms to preserve your range of motion and all that. I'd imagine it's a fine line to get as much out of there without causing damage to stuff you still need! If we were all paper dolls, it'd be easy to just cut along the dotted line and stop. Long story short, there's some breast tissue left (called auxillary tail, haha) and here's the new wrinkle:

I am now HER2 negative.

Wait, what?! How does THAT happen? We hadn't even heard those results until yesterday; we knew the estrogen and progesterone parts were still very high and therefore positive. So we learned a new thing:

Not ALL of a tumor will necessarily be positive or negative. Sometimes (or maybe even always for all I know) they have some of both, but whoever is examining them will have to make the declaration of it being more one way or the other. Huh. So the HER2+ stuff did get beaten up by all those meds and now we are left with the HER2- stuff if I understand what's going on. Thank goodness Dada takes good notes because I forgot this part twice already; it was indeterminant through the first type of check but confirmed as HER2- on a FISH test. Gotta be honest- I have zero idea what that means and have never heard of it so I'm going with the assumption that it's a kind of tumor mapping test. I haven't Googled that yet. If someone could fill us in, go for it in the comments section. 

This could be a really good thing, because it could mean that lymph nodes were not affected and THAT is another whole story. 

Grab a snack.

Ahh, lymph nodes. Yet another part of your body that you don't even think about so long as they're doing their job. They're like your spleen, just quietly cleaning up messes and doing their thing. Totally taken for granted. Until...

So there had been a discrepancy six years ago and even though I was there, I'm still not sure if I have all this right. My surgeon said he didn't remove any during the mastectomy, and remember, it's not like they're bright blue and screaming, "I belong here- don't take me!" I'm sure they probably blend in and lay low, haha. My oncologist said they're tiny and he might have and that according to the pathologist that one of three had been cancerous. I think I got that right.  That is causing issues in nailing down what's going on right now; were lymph nodes removed and were they cancerous? Dr A feels that based on all the pathology notes that the biopsy showed cancer but no lymph tissue. 

The plan as of yesterday is to continue with the back to back MRIs I have next week for the spot on my spine and the spot in my abdominal adrenal(s). For some reason, the PET scan report made it to Dr A but not the imaging, so when we asked to see it she couldn't show us because SHE hadn't seen it. She feels we need to make sure that nothing has spread before moving forward. Fair enough. 

If nothing has spread and those two spots are just weirdos trying for attention (they could be inflammation or something because things other than cancer shows up on PET scans. For instance, your brain is always bright on the scan, but areas of high metabolic something or other show up bright so that's why it's easier to spot tumors, inflammation, things like that) then she will schedule surgery to remove the troublemaker in my leftover breast tissue. While she's in there, she's going to try to attempt to do lymph node mapping to make sure they're behaving and weren't affected ("attempt" because it's not usually done post-mastectomy). That means she will inject blue dye and a radioisotope and see what's going on with them. If they're up to no good, out they'll come. I think I got that right. But that opens up potential for lymphedema down the road which is a can of worms I'm not opening today. I don't even want to know anything more other than I don't want it. Again, the comments section is open. 

So you guys, now I'm interesting enough that she's taking my case before her tumor board which meets on Thursday evenings. You can't see me, but I'm beaming while holding my imaginary suspenders even as I roll my eyes and laugh at myself. She was saying that what I'm experiencing doesn't usually happen. There was so much information as I sat there in my pink hospital gown I didn't even get to ask "which part?" She also has me set up for a baseline plastic surgery consult* and a physical therapy evaluation already! This lady has got a plan. As I told my brother, "I think she's the kind who isn't afraid to break everything down to make sure it's built back up right!" Again, I'm in really good hands.  

Yes, we walked out of there with more questions and our brains felt rather fizzy with information and names to attempt to keep straight (which will be my job- Dada can be in charge of the technical side of things) and now we have what feels like an ever-extending calendar of appointments. I heard someone from church going through some procedures of his own mention, "it's a season" and I thought that was an excellent reminder that I'd completely forgotten. The first time around I was determined that it would just be a season, not a permanent "forever". This time...

A girlfriend asked how I was really doing and I told her that I feel hormonal. I'm a cloudburst of tears one minute, then I'm fine awhile, then I'm so stinkin' MAD that this is all happening again and taking away from my summer and threatening to spill over into fall or further, then I'm fine and can see all the silver linings and then I get scared about that stupid spot on my spine of all places (because breast cancer can and does go into bones) and then I'm fine and then later I'll cry again out of rage and frustration. Grrrr. I know I said the first time around that chemo is so similar to pregnancy in a lot of ways, but man, maybe cancer in general is because I am ALL over the place emotionally. And if a needle is incoming, then just rachet all that up exponentially, haha! Yoi. 

I've decided porcupines and hedgehogs are animals who were previously people who had a bunch of needles stuck into them and now they're sticking out instead! Hey, you have a lot of time on your hands while you're laying half naked on an ultrasound table or in an MRI machine. Most of those places don't have stickers or anything interesting to look at on the ceiling so your imagination can be your best friend. 

Some of you have asked, "how can I help?" For now, pray that it IS just a single, solitary, easily removable tumor that she can scrape out with no spread so no need for chemo and all that jazz. Thanks for those of you who text/ send cards/ call/ send fun mail/ offer meals/ have us sleep over and all that all of you do. Blue ribbon tribe, no contest!

* I have some thoughts about the plastic surgery consult but I don't want to speak it into the universe before I've talked to anyone official. I don't want to jinx things. We can circle back to that in the future.

Missing the obvious

 I dunno how I missed this before, but there is another humungous blessing in all of this.

Colon cancer doesn’t just run in our family. It gallops. It contributed to the death of one of my grandfathers, one of my aunts, and several others of my grandfather’s generation and before. 

You guys, that PET scan? It revealed NOTHING in me in that area. Do you know how huge a blessing and relief that is?! 

I guess sometimes when you sit and sift you find bigger nuggets than you might expect. Yay!

Thank you

 Y'all are amazing. 

Thank you for all the support and love that you send us in each way that you send it. The texts, the posts, the calls, the hugs- we are so blessed to have each of you in our tribe. If everyone had a tribe like you guys, the world would be pretty darn near perfect!

I have good news that you all have earned with your love and intercession for me:

One, I have the MRIs scheduled back to back week after next so two, it'll be only one stick (provided veins cooperate, so keep praying about that, haha) and three, one single appointment and four, they've already called in a sedative for me. Can you FEEL that weight fall off my shoulders? Could you hear it as it hit the ground and crumbled? I almost cried. I was so relieved when she told me she had a spot for back to back MRIs that it looked like I was doing Snoopy's suppertime dance. Thank you, Jesus, and everybody who is covering me! 

You guys are amazing. Don't just pray for me- turn your attention and power to Gaza, Ukraine, the Caribbean islands destroyed by Beryl, a local shelter; pick a crisis and send some of your love that way as well. There's never a shortage of need and I think we all underestimate our power to affect change. For starters, you could be praying for safety over kids this summer as they head off to camps or that they have enough to eat without two meals at school, summer boating safety, Fourth of July activities as they generally involve explosives and alcohol, and so on. Adopt a cause and go be a champion. You won't be alone and we are so much stronger together. 

The next step is the surgical consult next week. I'll keep you posted, but I am very much looking forward to upcoming posts about people other than me! 

Thank you for everything! Be safe celebrating July 4th!

What?! Thing Two graduated?!

 

Note to self...

...when one has graduation photos on one's phone, one should deal with them BEFORE adding bazillions of vacation photos to phone. 

*face palm, scrolling, scrolling, backtracking, scrolling*

Anyway, away we go!

Of course I have fifty bajillion photos on my phone (roughly a bajillion of graduation related ones) but I'm trying to be sensitive to things like location reveals, the privacy of other people's kids, and so forth. It'd be easier to just dump it all and attempt to sort it out, but I don't have a good program with which to do that anymore, so I'm being intentional in the picking and choosing. There were lots of friends who came to support Thing Two, but I don't know how they all feel about being splashed all over the internet. I'm trying to restrain myself.

So here he is as a part of the choir. They said he added an entire octave, haha!

While subbing, I had a conversation with one of the teachers earlier in the year and he asked if I had any kids at the school. He apologized for being not great with names. I told him who my kid was, he pondered a moment, then lit up and said, "OH! With the HAIR! And the VOICE!" That pretty much sums up this guy right now. A second teacher mentioned the same attributes when speaking about Thing Two. Roughly paraphrased it sounded like :"The kid is kinda intimidating when you first meet him. He's so tall, he has all this hair, and then he opens his mouth and his voice is DOWN HERE. He's always polite, always respectful, but geez."

He fit in perfectly with his group of guys this year. This is one of my favorites. This photo cracks me up every single time.

Some of our excellent tribe:

Thank you for the cards, the well wishes, your attendance, but mostly for showing up in his life and in ours. None of us would be who we are without you pouring into us!

Thus endeth the high school career of Thing Two. Way to go, Hair In His Face! We're proud of you. Now get off the couch and go find a job. 😆

 

Not quite what I was going for

 Okay folks, the results are in! Boy, this free therapy really IS nice because they weren't quite what we were hoping for, even though they're not bad in and of themselves. Here goes.

The PET scan results lit up where we expected them to in my right auxilla (fancy word for my side around my armpit area) but it showed two additional spots as well. One in (or on, I dunno how that all works, really) my thoracic spine #10 and one in my abdominal adrenals. Does that mean there's more than one there? No idea. According to Google, those sit just above your kidneys, and the thoracic #10 is also in the middle of my back.

She asked if I'd had a back injury. Can't claim that. I feel like I do have arthritis in my lower back. She said, "no, the thoracic #10 is right in the middle of your back." Hmmm. Now I'm wondering what all shows up on PET scans because the internet's vague "areas of high metabolism" don't mean much to me! 

I guess it looks like something fishy is happening in the neighborhood and now I need more MRIs. Apparently they don't do spinal and abdominal ones at the same time- fabulous- so that means two more times to go carry on with the radiology imaging team, whoohooo!

My main thought keeps coming back to "there was nothing in my blood work to show reason for concern." In my superior layman's thinking (haha) that means that either we caught all of this really early before it affected my blood work or it could be something benign like a cyst or cysts that just show up and hang out and don't do much. We do have a family history of abdominal cysts, my mother reminded me, which I'd either forgotten or not known. 

Now we know a little more as in areas to more thoroughly inspect. Information and knowledge are power, right? 

I must confess to a pounding heart while I was madly scribbling everything I was being told over the phone. Since it's all in the middle of me, that means I'll probably be enclosed for the next two MRIs. I've been okay before, but honestly the more tests they schedule the more needles are involved the more anxious I get. I may need sedated for these ones, which is no big other than I wouldn't be allowed to drive myself home afterwards, which is NOT a big deal as I doubt anyone (ahem, Dada) will let me go alone anyway. As I said, I'm in good hands. And the needle will be going in regardless so maybe a sedative isn't a bad idea. Pray for peace. And really juicy veins. Plump, juicy, very full veins!

It’s gonna take forever

But that’s okay because that’s part of what summer is for, even when it’s not raining.

1000 piece puzzle of a Jockey’s Ridge sunset by Susan Wells Vaughan. 

Let the game begin!