Roombas and Waiting Rooms

Well, after getting lost in the new addition at my oncologist office, I was very happy to find that the new office is now air conditioned, and has seating that is actually comfy.  It was the first day the new wing was open, so it was very funny to watch the nurses and secretaries get just as confused as the rest of us.  I think they needed a line of M&Ms to lead us all to our intended destinations; eating chocolate on the way to doctors' appointments really would motive everyone to visit the hospital more often.  My husband suggested that a Roomba could help with the profession of dispersing M&Ms as a successful bribery.

Anyway, after getting lost for awhile, I was able to meet with my oncologist and am happy to report that my tumor (also know as the rebel James Dean) has still shown no signs of popping up again. The best part about this meeting is finding out that what is left of my left lobe has actually started to create some new blood vessels that are not related to the location of the tumor.  This implies (but does not guarantee), that the parts of my left lobe that were mushed like putty might be trying to make a comeback.  I might just have to give up the idea of transplanting someone else's left lobe into mine.  I was really thinking that it could be nice to have some celebrities donate some neurological tissue to me.  My top picks are presidential candidates, you know that have nothing to lose (pun intended ;).

Roombas might also be very handy as an alternative for a wheelchair.

Next thing to update everyone on is our epic quest to adopt.  Both my husband and I were getting very annoyed with CPS and their inability to return any of our calls.  So after three months of unreturned calls and messages, I made a stop into their office.  Acting as an irate customer, I was able to finally speak with one of the agents and discover that even though we had completed all training and paperwork, it would be at least two to three years before they could do anything.  This information made it very clear why they were avoiding our attempts to contact them.  We tried Lutheran Social Services next (they were recommended to us by CPS), and discovered that LSS out in Montana was not going to even take any paperwork for another year.  Apparently you can only adopt every other leap year.  If anyone out there has any ideas we'll be glad to hear them!

The one positive thing about not having a kid in the house this summer is that some of the money we were saving for the kid we can use towards the house.  Our house sits on two lots, and as a result, we have A LOT of lawn to cover.  A sprinkler system might just become our new pseudo child.

Time travel with Dr. Who and a telephone booth

Today was a good day.  After a period of chaos, (involving black ice, a totaled Kia, ER visit, insurance constipation - yes that is spelled correctly,) I am happy to report after an appointment with my oncologist today that my brain tumor buddy is still incognito!  Having really boring MRI reports turned out again to be a nice thing.  My next affair with the MRI machine will not be until mid-June. Dr. Wagner decided that since my tumor is still a bit of an oddball, he does not yet recommend that I reduce my MRIs to every six months quite yet.  If my June trip to visit with the MRI machine does turn out well, then that might change to every six months instead.  This really is a long divorce process.

Since signs of re-occurrence with the tumor are not happening, my husband and I have made the final steps towards becoming foster parents with the intention to adopt.  We took eighteen hours of classes (with a 1:1 ratio of creepy to non-creepy people) to receive our license, and are now only waiting on home inspection.  The largest lesson we have learned from this thus far is that no matter what you are told on possible times for becoming future foster/adoptive parents, that they are always wrong on the date by at least six months.  Our current goal is to become Dr. Who (don't think Dr. Seuss) so we can have a kid or two in the house by the end of the year.

Well, that's it.  I am off to drink some delicious Dr. Pepper to celebrate my sweet "sixteenth" MRI.  As long as my number of MRIs stays less than my age, I'll be happy!

Happy brain and better eyes

I figure since it has been a few months since my last entry, so I should probably catch everyone up. To make it short, everything is good!  It has been about a year and a half since I had brain surgery, about six months since I finished my chemotherapy, and according to my last MRI the left side of my brain has not changed.  This means that against the odds, my tumor is on a siesta!  However, there is a still an area of the MRI where the tumor was that looks different from the normal brain tissue.  After discussing these results with my oncologist (Dr. Wagner) the options as to why that spot is still there are because the tumor cells are dead, tumor is still alive but dormant, or it just looks weird as a result of the surgery/radiation/chemo.  I am a big fan of options one or three.  Either way, those are all good news.  (Yes, I am being an optimist . . . the world must be ending soon if I'm doing that).

On another happy note, I went back to the eye doctor today who was the first person who spotted the suspicious swollen optic nerve November 2012.  I am now a big fan of Costco ophthalmologists.  The doc happily looked at my eyes and let me know that my left optic nerve is not swollen, and very surprisingly, that the vision in my left eye is actually significantly better than my right eye.  There went my plan of being a pirate with an eye-patch for Halloween.  Since my vision has improved by A LOT, we are going back to our original goal of a few years ago; to hike/camp a new trail in Glacier National Park every summer weekend.  There are pictures below of my husband and I on a trail called "twin falls".  We were unfortunately unable to make it to the falls due to the trail conditions, but it was fun anyway.  Being able to get out of the house again without having to worry about health issues is a dream! (Pictures of the washed-out trail below).

Rock (the brave husband)

Me (the wet but happy wife)

Well, that's it.  I have another MRI coming up next month to check up on things, but I am thinking that it should continue to be good.  My husband and I are now looking over our options for adoption/foster kids since it has been almost two years since surgery.  Thanks to the tumor and chemo I am entering menopause a lot earlier that average, meaning that becoming pregnant and giving birth to a healthy child would be slim. I originally thought that having hot flashes when I was younger would be better than having it as part of the stereotypical mid-life crisis.  Nope.  I was wrong.  Say a prayer or two for my husband, he has to put up with a menopausal wife who isn't even thirty yet.  Either way, life is looking good; happy 4th of July everyone!

Oops, it's nothing again

Let's cut the story short . . . I am finished with chemotherapy!  For the first time since November 2012, I am only taking one prescription drug!  Currently I am free of chemo drugs, anti-nausea prescriptions, and steroids.  The only thing I still have to take (for the rest of my life, which is hopefully a long one), is my good ol' Keppra to prevent seizures.  I am very happy right now that I can avoid chemo drugs like a cat avoids baths.  (If you can think of a better analogy, I want to hear it.  My husband and I had a brainstorm, but we failed in our collaboration).

Right now it looks like I will be having an MRI done every two to three months, but leaning more towards the two months after a scare that happened two weeks ago.  Two weeks ago, I went in for my first MRI post chemotherapy.  I have to say, this MRI was the worst that has ever occurred to me; and I have been through A LOT of MRIs over the last year and a half.  This time when I went in, I was so congested that I felt that my nose was the equivalent of Mt. Rainer - very plugged and ready to explode.  As a result, when I was laying in the MRI, to breathe I had to open my mouth.  When I opened my mouth I inhaled something that caused me to cough thought a good portion of the testing.  When I was finished and pulled out of the MRI I asked the tech if my coughing would be a problem with the results, and he said that it would not be. Apparently he was wrong.  As a result of my coughing and moving, a small area in my left brain lobe appeared to be abnormal.  This resulted in the doctor writing in the report:

" . . . mild enhancement in the medial portion of the left temporal lobe, medial to the temporal horn of the lateral ventricle.  This may represent extension of tumor."

He wrote this just after how he wrote about "decreased size of the mass in the left temporal lobe".  I would much rather hear the positive news about "decreased mass" last instead of ending with the negative news of "extension of tumor".  

After my oncologist (Dr. Wagner) met with me later in the week and saw the comments on my MRI, he immediately made an appointment with my socially-awkward neurologist (Dr. O).  The two of them conferred with each other, and came to the conclusion that this MRI is almost completely identical to my last MRI (even with my coughing) and that the newbie MRI doctor who wrote the synopsis was incorrect.   Last Thursday I met with Dr. Wagner, and he showed me my last MRI compared with a previous MRI that was given, and except for a decrease in tumor size by 1.2mm, they were identical.  My conclusion?  If you need an easy way to lose weight and increase heartburn have a newbie doctor tell you "oops".  

Only two more months of chemo left . . .

Two weeks ago I was the lucky recipient of an MRI, two doctor's appointments, blood testing, and yet another chemotherapy round.  This was all done since it had been just over a year since diagnosis/brain surgery of my anaplastic astrocytoma.

 The first bit of news, I am apparently the recipient of being "Mrs. May" for the hospital's yearly oncology calendar.  One of my appointments ended up being me going to Dr. O's conference area and getting some "realistic" pictures of me pretending to teach a science lesson.  I do not think that I have ever taught such a terrible lesson in my life; "tip your head to the right", "smile more", "stand facing the other direction", "can we adjust the light?", "pretend that we are students".  Ugh.  I was given a copy of the finished calender, and have passed it on to family, however, I have no desire to ever show it here.  While I agree that the picture taken of me is decent, the information written by Dr. O could not be any more corny and sappy.  As a result, if you want to see it, you'll need to get it from the hospital yourself.  The only reason we have one of the calenders in our house right now is because my husband has hidden it from me.  I think that burning May would be more appropriate.

The next set of news is that there is thankfully still no sign of tumor regrowth.  The only worrying thing that came up is that there is still a section of the left side of the brain that could be considered suspicious.  The area where my tumor was surgically removed has shrunk slightly in size over the last four months from 8.3cm to 8.1cm, but has not gone away completely.  This could mean two things; first, that the tumor is still there, but is shrinking due to continued chemotherapy treatments.  Option two, that the tumor is gone, and my brain tissue that was compressed by the tumor is slowly relaxing enough to fill in the empty space.  I am personally a fan of option two.

The last bit of medical news is that unless there is a clear sign of tumor regrowth, that I will be done with chemotherapy towards the end of February.  The one annoying thing about that?  My scheduled chemo rounds are not timed well by any stretch of the imagination.  My next round in January is the week of my birthday, and my last round (knock on wood) in February is the same week as Valentine's Day.  While the timing is not the best, I am still going to bug my husband into us celebrating in some way.  Unfortunately the anti-seizure prescription has made me sensitive enough to anything alcoholic that if I even smell it I get tipsy, but I think that bugging my husband into taking me out to dinner is reasonable :).  

Finally, I have met my New Year's resolution from last year.  To quote my blog entry on it from January 1st, 2013:

"James Dean, you're going down.  And I'll make sure that you go down with plenty of show just to illustrate how obnoxious and stupid you really are (even though in real life James Dean looked like quite a dashing  bad-boy)."  

If you want to make a bet to try and win the lottery, I would do it.  I never, NEVER, actually hold my resolutions for the whole year.  Who cares about the tumor?  I managed to stick to a resolution.  It is a miracle!  Now it is time to get ready for my resolution for 2014; to continue to keep my James Dean tumor in time-out and enjoy another year of being tumor free!

One year to the day . . .

Today was a big day.  Today is the one year anniversary to the day that I found out I had a brain tumor.  My big activity to celebrate?  I did not set my alarm clock and slept in until I could not sleep anymore.  It was wonderful!  I can only wish that I can do the same thing every November 16th for a looooong time.  This might just top my wedding anniversary; but don't let my husband know that ;)

The next big day of celebration will be Tuesday, November 19th.  This will be the one year anniversary from when I had my brain surgery to remove (as best as possible) my James Dean tumor "friend".  I really find it hard to comprehend that a year ago I was working on compiling a will, signing "do not resuscitate" legal papers, and explaining to my husband when I would like "the plug pulled" if necessary.  After the many, MANY appointments beforehand telling me about everything that could go wrong during major brain surgery, I still consider it a miracle to this day that I was able to leave surgery on November 19th with nothing more than a stubborn eyebrow that wouldn't move and a stutter that only comes up when I am tired or nervous.  All I can do is thank everyone for their prayers and the Big Guy up above.

My goal for the next year?  That my MRI/CT scans will continue to show no change, and that my James Dean tumor will continue being non-existent.  I know that anaplastic astrocytomas have a higher rate of re-occurrence than others, but I figure that since I have made it a year already without any sign of it popping up again, and without any of the predicted seizures, that I am already breaking quite a few odds.  I propose a toast!  To another year of being brain tumor free!

Let Countdown #2 Being!

Today I had the big appointment with my oncologist (Dr. Wagner) and neurological surgeon (Dr. O) on whether I would be done with my chemo.  I was very happy to find out from my last MRI at the meeting that there was no sign of tumor regrowth; the new MRI looked almost exactly the same as my first MRI a few weeks ago.  Since there was no change, it was looking good, until Dr. Wagner brought up the fact that the name given to my tumor (anaplastic astrocytoma) implies that it is very aggressive tumor.  My math lesson today in the doctor's office today was that anaplastic = treat as much as you can or you are in trouble.  The fact that mine is in the anaplastic category of names typically means that thing would go from bad to worse, but my tumor still also has it James Dean characteristics by growing slowly and being non-aggressive.

Either way, the doctors decided that it would be best to play it safe and continue my chemo for another six months, just as they would for an aggressive tumor.  The only annoying reason they had for continuing my chemotherapy was that my body dealt with my previous chemo rounds much better than expected, so going six more months would not be as taxing on me as with "normal" people.   Clearly chemo drugs and I have a love-hate relationship, with me doing most of the hating.

I'll be starting my first new round of chemo next week.  I can now kiss my slowly reoccurring pallet of food good-bye, and get used to only eating when stomach isn't rolling.  The one good thing about this?  I won't be on a round of chemo when I am running 6th grade camp, and going to 8th grade graduation since I will be done with this round February next year.  I also know what to expect this time around instead of having to view each chemo dose as a new experiment to see what will happen.  Good-bye blueberries, chocolate, and being normal; Oddball Chemo Land here I come!