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!