My intestines go "gobble, gobble!"

Time for an update!  First of all, the good news; my last two MRIs have shown no change in my possible reoccurring brain tumor friend.  If my next MRI at the end of December still shows no change, then the doctors will go with the idea that I have a permanent brain mutated area that will have an increased blood flow (without a tumor), or an impressive area of mutated blood vessels that are left over from my radiation treatments.  I will happily take either option.  If it is true, then I will be chemo free starting in January.  Another unique occurrence is that my next two rounds of chemotherapy drugs occur during the weeks of Thanksgiving and Christmas.  I am currently viewing this an an excellent opportunity to bake a lot for everyone else, but thanks to my belligerent digestive system I won't gain a single pound!

Next, a food tasting update:
 -  Halloween candy:  I rediscovered Skittles, and they were one of the delicious things I have eaten in a while.  I have no idea why they are so good, other than the fact that they are pure sugar.
-  Salad:  Dark green anything in a salad has become something that makes me feel like my stomach is planning a full political revolt.   However, iceberg lettuce is still acceptable as long as dressing is not present.  I prefer my lettuce nude.
-  Chocolate:  Still good this round!
-  Spicy foods:  Sinuses love it, intestines do not.
-  Water:  This liquid has hit the point where it tastes metallic no matter what its source.  I am still being obnoxious and forcing my body to drink it regularly (since it is a bit vital to survival).
-  Lemonade:  It smells wrong, it tastes wrong, and overall is wrong.

On another note, my husband and I have had semi-success as foster parents.  We had two kids in over the summer that were not eligible for adoption (just temporary foster care), but it taught us a lot, and proved to us that were ready to be parents.  Even if we could not place where the smell of child and/or cat pee originated from (that is still up for debate).  We also learned that getting toddlers to sleep without wall shaking screaming involves us dancing together down the hallway on our tiptoes.

Now, here for your holiday enjoyment, is a wonderful video of very "special" turkeys.  There is clearly a reason why they are not our national bird; sorry Franklin.

Maybe I should make chocolate salad dressing . . .

Monday I started my second round of chemo in this session with my "lovely" Temodar drug combined with a awesome prescription to help keep any food and the resulting stomach acid in my digestive system.  I truly believe that an anti-nausea drug is the best prescription ever created.

On another note, I have started keeping track on something that I documented back in 2013; the new and often interesting taste of food!

-  Salad dressing:  I have been trying to eat a good dark green salad for lunch each day to keep my blood happy and oxygen carrying.  However, I learned a couple days ago that over the span of a month, the Italian dressing that I have been using just tastes nasty.  (Don't worry, I checked the expiration date on the bottle, I still had another two months before the dressing should be tossed).  My husband has tried to convince me to try a different brand of dressing, but to be safe I plan on switching to a dry salad.  This will make it look like I'm one of those super-healthy vegan humans that for some reason does not miss meat or cheese when they eat lunch.

-  Feta cheese:  Cheddar is still good, along with Swiss, Colby Jack, and Parmesan.  But I had some Feta cheese a week ago on a sandwich, and it tasted like the rotten smell you get from a trash can that needed to be dumped a couple days earlier.  My husband had a similar sandwich, and he managed to engulf his sandwich without any issues (he even talked about how glad he was that we tried the Feta cheese).

-  BEST NEWS!:  I have made a point to eat a bite of chocolate every few days, and so far the chocolate and I are getting along well.  The chocolate that I have tested has been Hershey's Milk Chocolate, Junior Mints, and Hershey's Cookies and Cream.  My stomach seems to get a bit upset after more than a couple bites, but it still is tasting like chocolate :)

After putting off lunch, my stomach has finally decided that I am allowed to eat something.  Time to enjoy some ginger ale and a salad! (with maybe a couple pieces of Junior Mints).

Let the chocolate testing begin!

Over the last four weeks, I've had five medical appointments, with four being on my memorable left brain lobe.  The vast majority of them were very boring:

-  June 7th:  Dr. Wagner (oncology) - radiation is over, but I will be doing chemotherapy to be safe.
-  June 16th:  MRI - I stayed awake the whole time (yeah!) by counting the cars that drove in and out of the parking lot I could see behind me.  It really was boring, but it was a good way to practice my   math and memory skills in a nerdy sort or way.
-  June 21st:  Dentist - my teeth are still clean and happy :)
-  June 24th:  Dr. Stille (radiology) - no mental or physical difficulties were found, so I was good to     go.  There will be another appointment with him in six months to do another check since I've had so   much radiation sent to my brain.  Thankfully it is a part of my brain that doesn't do anything anyway (I could make some remark here about that part of my brain being like some of my students, but I will resist).                        
-  June 28th:  Dr. Wagner - was shown and given a copy of the MRI results from the 16th.  Since my   last MRI back in March when it was discovered that my tumor-buddy was trying to rise from the dead, the doc was as surprised as I when it was documented that the area in my brain that was             treated with SRS had increased and not decreased in size:      

". . . the nodular and linear area of enhancement along the inferior aspect of the temporal lobe again demonstrated and is slightly increased from prior study.  Nodule measures 8 x 6 mm on axial image 69/232 when measured in similar fashion to the prior study approximately 5 x 4 mm; additional or new areas of enhancement are evident."

Needless to say, I was more than a bit worried about this statement from my most recent MRI.  Dr. Wagner then saved me a bit when I brought up the results that were recorded.  He let me know that he was leaning towards to idea that the only reason the brain-tumor zombie area had its millimeter increase in size was due to the fact that it was probably still a bit swollen after the surgery last month.  To make sure that this is the case, I will be having another MRI in about two months to check on my always-wants-everyone's-attention-tumor (A.W.E.A.T.); this is my new and terrible medical acronym in an attempt to sound more medically knowledgeable for the next time I talk to a doctor.  Unfortunately though, this does not get me out of chemo.

I am officially starting my first round of chemo tonight.  It is going to be one week of chemo each month for a year, so I made sure tonight to eat the most fatty and greasy food that I could locate for dinner.  It ended up being a trip to get fried chicken, fries, and mashed potatoes with a huge glass of Dr. Pepper.  I know from past experience that any grease over the next year will most likely have an "memorable" result after I start treatment.  I also made sure to pick up Junior Mints and a Hershey's bar so I can do my first set of chocolate tests this week.  I'm thinking that the chocolate bar will be my first test tomorrow . . .yum (I hope)!

Brain Tumored Science Teacher Writes a Hypothesis

I have now learned that having one round of chemotherapy with Temodar that went successfully can have its consequences.  I was lucky enough on my first round to have an immune system that stayed strong, lose a few pounds, and eventually figure out how to deal with more less-known set of drugs with insurance.  (Don't worry, insurance does pay a pretty portion of the drug, it just takes a lot of saying certain things to certain people during certain times at certain times in the day - can you sense my certain sarcasm?).  The end result?  The three doctors made the decision that since my brain tumor buddy tried to make a comeback that the best thing to do would be to go back on the Temodar for a year to help prevent any future tumor-celebrity reincarnations.   I was not affected by the typical "fun" chemo symptoms as much as was normal back in 2012, so my decent health ended up being a curse come my tumor buddy's second attempt at life.  So my final conclusion is that doing well when on brain-tumor-chemo-drugs must be a secret plot that is fueled by a mysterious, secret government agency that clearly needs to have more interesting and important items to concern themselves with.

Since I am going to be stuck on Temodar for the next year, I figure I might as well follow my skill as a science teacher and conduct an experiment.  My current goal is to see that if the same flavors of food that I lost/went eww/came back up stay the same as my first round, or change with the times.  Last time losing a taste for chocolate was by far the saddest event that occurred during treatment; it took me about a year after finishing treatment to gain my love of it back - thanks to constants attempts from my husband.  Here is my science teacher lab hypothesis:

If I am taking Temodar for a second time, then my taste and want of chocolate will not be affected  as much because my body has been exposed to the experience previously and recovered its taste positively.

Any past and current students are welcome to grade my hypothesis.   I will  officially be starting my chemo again at the end of the month, and will do one week of treatment each month for the next year. I think it is now time to enjoy some Junior Mints just in case my hypothesis is incorrect.

Early Halloween plans and Jurassic Park

Time for a brain tumor/SRS/doctor/CPS/end of school year update!  First on the agenda, SRS (Stereotactic Radiosurgery, NOT Sex Reassignment Surgery - that would of taken the cake as an interesting cure for a brain tumor).  The SRS surgery was honestly very boring.  It ended up being about 45 minutes of laying in a very uncomfortable position with a strapped in face mold combined with occasional flashing lights.  The good news is that they did let me keep my new face mold so I now have a new "I'll Be Watching You" face mold I can hang up in my classroom for the next time the students have a substitute.  I just need to find a couple more ping-pong eyeballs come Halloween.  It is by far the best creepy medical song that exists.

I also made the decision to determine my current number of medical appointments that I have had since the initial anaplastic astrocytoma diagnosis in 2012.  If I do not count my hospital stay during the original surgery, the regular yearly doctor visit, dentist, and my trips to the ER, then I will have had a total of seventy-two visits come my next appointment with my oncologist on Tuesday. (Tax documents helped a lot figuring that out - who knew that taxes documents could be helpful once in a blue Moon).  But it doesn't matter; the hospital and attaching building are still a maze.

My husband and I have also completely finished all of the paperwork, training, inspections, and classes to become foster/adoptive parents.  Woohoo!  CPS knows that come next week, after the school year is over, that we are up for anything.  Hopefully the kid(s) are not quite as crazy as we will be, and Jurassic Park does not occur within the house.  If it does, it will turn out to probably be a good science lesson about evolution in the future.  Happy summer!

Time to turn into another water balloon

Today I had met with my radiologist for the first time in three years; we were apparently destined to meet again due to the stubborn nature of my mostly hollow left brain lobe.  The only thing that came up in the appointment was all the other appointment that will be made in the next three weeks.  So, here is my life with appointments over the next three weeks:

• 2nd appointment:  Neurological surgeon (Dr. O) - radiologist secretary called him up today with no luck.
• 3rd appointment:  After locating the lost Dr. O, an appointment with radiology for a new CAT scan and to have another face mask made - my first one from 2013 still hangs in my classroom; as far as the kids know it means that "I'm always watching you . . " (think of a sterotypical horror movie)
• 4th appointment:  This will be a dry-run of the radiation/laser surgery where everyone involved will do a "practice" round with me present to make sure that everything works and everyone knows what to do.  I completely plan to sticking my tongue out and making funny faces to see if they notice.
• 5th appointment:  SRS (Is is bad that I really am thinking that is going to be pretty cool that they will be cutting up and frying up part of my mutated brain without me being knocked out?  Being a biology nerd can be very fun sometimes ;)
• 6th appointment:  MRI to see any changes after the SRS
• 7th appointment:  Time to see the oncologist on the MRI results
• 8th appointment:  Headed back to the radiologist to go over the same MRI results.

Like everything that is ever deemed as important, the dates for none of these events have been determined.  If nothing else this is still better than my four week round of radiation therapy from 2013; I never did turn into a X-Men quality mutant from that sadly.  The only mutant I will turn into this time is another water-retaining human thanks to the steroids they will be feeding me for about a month after my SRS.  UGH.  I do believe I will be hitting up Goodwill in the near future in preparation for my increase in size.  Stupid, stupid, stupid, steroids.  This could be only be better if I was traveling back in time to turn into Hulk Hogan.  Stupid steroids.

My brain and Jeopardy

Here is the official verdict from the doctors in the form of Jeopardy:

Me:  "I'll take 'Tumor Treatment' for 200."

Alex Trebek:  "The treatment recommended by three doctors to prevent the return of a brain tumor."

Me:  "What is radiation?"

Alex Trebek:  "Correct."

Me:  "I'll take 'Tumor Treatment' again for 400."

Alex Trebek:  "The meaning of the acronym SRS"

Me:  "What is stereotactic radiosurgery?"

Alex Trebek:  "Correct. Now for our last question in Double Jeopardy; definition of stereotactic radiosurgery."

Me:  "What is a form of high radiation focused in a small area destroying focused cells?"

If Jeopardy was only on medical terminology I could be rich.

To make it short, I will have SRS done.  SRS is like a combination of radiation treatment and laser surgery; the radiation will kill any cells it is aimed at, and the laser effect will seal off any cells there that should be burned at the stake (literally).  Over the couple days  I should be flooded with information from the radiologist on when this will happen and how many days the remake of the Salem brain tumor witch trials will occur.  In the meantime, enjoy one of the best Jeopardy answers ever recorded:

If only I could do a T-chart in Blogger

Sorry it has been so long without an update; everything had been going well so there really was not a large reason to post.  So lets start things off with the positive from my last MRI back in February . . .

Last February I had one of the boring, but needed, MRI update check-ups and results were very good. There was a change since the last MRI, but change was a very happy occurrence.  Most of the veins that previously fed my brain tumor until it was obese had stopped operating.  For once having veins that were useless was a good thing.  The word from Dr. Wagner (my oncologist) was since I was yet to have an MRI with not-so-good results that my dates with the MRI machine would be only needed every six months if my next date in March went well.  YES!

Now to flip the coin . . .

Today with the oncology doctor I learned that my tumor is very stubborn.  Here is the good stuff:

"There is a postoperative cavity and encepalomalacia within the left temporal lobe including a moderate T2 hypersensitvity and the signal abnormality is largely unchanged compared to 2/9/15."

Translation:  No change, brain is still doing well and the mutated portion is still showing no signed of being returned due to the very active bullying and beating previously in treatment

That was good news to hear, and made my husband and I happy since we had just finished a home inspection to be foster parents earlier in the week.  (Clearly my husband has a brain tumor as well since we actually enjoyed the deep house cleaning that happened before that inspection).  Anyway, here is the not so good news:

"However, there is one focal area of soft tissue signal (FLAIR hyperintense) measuring approximately 7 mm with in the postoperative region adjacent to the left temporal calvarium with dense enhancement, and both the enhancement and the size of the soft tissue abnormality have increased compared to prior studies.  While there is no hyperfusion identified, the finding are worrisome for recurrence."

Translation:  MRI doctors are really good at run-on sentences, and the spot where my tumor was removed is showing some signs that it might be rising from the dead.  Crap.

This all means that the area around where the tumor was removed is doing great, while the area inside the cavity where the tumor used to reside is being its normal rebellious self.  Apparently this jerk is a beautiful mutant on the outside, but a evil vampire on the inside.

On Monday my oncologist, former radiologist, and former surgeon will meet to debate/discuss what should be done next since I still do not have a tumor, but my brain is acting like there is one cloning itself in my near future.  The option that have already been brought up are:
-  surgery to remove the tumor birth canal (It would be a minor surgery with only very small scars      since there is no viable brain tissue still in the area.  Apparently lasers would be involved; now          that sounds like they will be bringing in Cyclops from the X-Men - I would not mind that.)
-  receive another dosage of radiation (This round would be more focused, and the concentration          would be lower than previously given since the site they need to focus on is only 7mm as opposed      to the original softball size "friend".  At least I know that I can't lose too much more hair on the          left side of my scalp)
-  chemotherapy (Weight loss in my future and being forced to eat healthy?  Not too bad!)

So, there is your update.  I am completely planning on going with whatever plan the doctors recommend come the expected call on Tuesday.  Here's hoping for mutant powers!