Bone Scan Wednesday

This waiting is a test of my power of thought avoidance. No sense in thinking too much. But a clear scan would be so freaking great. My oncologist said that the doubling rate of cancer cells with my pathology is 30 days. So if there are any in my bones after a 12 month period the test would pick them up. I hope I don't have to wait over the weekend. I'm so glad we are busy with Tanner's french foreign exchange student here. I'm averaging three trips a day into town to transport kids so there's not much time for sitting around and stewing.

All Clear

12 months since chemo and my cancer markers and chest xray look good. My oncologist is ordering a bone scan since I continue to have rib pain on my left hand (cancer) side. The chest xray cannot pick up an anterior rib tumor and tumor markers have a 20% false negative rate. Thus, out of a abundance of caution I'll have a bone scan. Its been 18 months since my original bone scan. I will feel a good deal of comfort having a clean bone scan result.

I am relieved. Feeling good tonight.

Checkup Next Week

I rescheduled my checkup to Monday the 20th because I had accidently scheduled it for the same time as a class I am taking. I went and got my xray done yesterday however. I should hear about it tomorrow, or perhaps not till monday. Will let you know as soon as I hear.

Meeting Others Like Me

I went to my first support group last thursday. It's held at at my Oncology clinic and was attended by 3 other women. First of all I thank my clinic for doing this. They have two therapists there to guide the meetings. So there is cost for them. And of course they don't charge people to attend.
I suppress fear of recurrence as a matter of habit now. Except for when I break down. I suppose that happens every couple of months. My husband called around to find cancer support groups a few weeks ago and thats how I ended up at my first meeting.
Upon entering the room, which was relatively small, cozy, and very comfortable, I knew I was the new participant. The therapists were very kind and accomodating. They reviewed the 'rules' of the group, such as privacy and acceptance. Looking around the room I felt nervous, expecting that I'd need to introduce myself. When I looked at the other women I naturally tried to figure out their story. It was easy with one gal who was wearing a long blonde wig. No matter how good the wig or makeup you can tell when someone is still in chemo. She was the funniest and liveliest of the group.
I remember being that way. Trying to impress people that I was different than the typical 60-someting breast cancer patient. Not a victim. Not suffering and still vivacious. She put on a very good act. She has one chemo to go. I learned later that her breast cancer is not contained in her breasts. Ugh. She is about my age. Had a bilateral mastectomy, as I did, and is in chemical menopause. Her enthusiasm, while truely admirable and understandable, pierced my heart. She was so happy that I was there. We have alot in common.
I was asked to introduce myself. The first words out of my mouth were "I don't know if I can do this". Then I began crying. Being in a room with such kind people, some of whom understand on a level that no one else I know understands, overhelmed me. Jesus. I couldn't even say my name. I just cried.
They were patient though and I walked across the room to get a tissue and sat back down and started rambling. Started with my diagnosis. Where else would you start? Nothing before seemed important at the moment. I felt the needed to prove that I belonged. Yep, I had the qualification. The cancer passport. The upcoming 3 month checkup. Everyone nods. Everyone knows.
I'm going back tomorrow for another meeting. I have a checkup next Wednesday. My rib hurts. Same place as last time. Its not cancer. It just reminds me every few hours of the possibility.