Up to Date!

Other than the day after I found out, I never really had a chance to be sad. Everyone around me was always so positive and they told me that’s how I needed to be too. But, 2 ½ weeks out of surgery, I WAS sad and I DID feel lonely even though I had Angie, my mom, my dad, my sister, my boss and the whole gang. Looking back now I am pretty sure it was the withdrawal from meds that made me feel this way. I felt like I was losing control of myself. For those who don’t know me well, I have always been the strong emotional one, the optimistic, the one that says “everything will be fine.” At this time, I was none of the above.  This flood of emotion took over me and I felt like I was drowning. Time was starting to weigh on me as I had nothing but time to think about everything that has happened.

I would go back in time and remember when I think about dying. Yes, I honestly think about that at times, because I have always feared dying. I have always thought that nothing bad could happen to me and that the Lord wouldn’t allow anything else bad to happen to my mom. I have always thought that I am going to live to be 90. But, this time when I would think about dying I saw myself maybe making it to age 50 and that was being generous. There are times when I come to grips with that thought because I know where I am going and I know it’s a far more peaceful place, but I am just not ready. First of all, I’ve always wanted to grow old with someone who really likes me, I have that now. Second, I don’t want my family to hurt. My mom and dad would both be crushed if I were to lose this battle. I would miss my sister and her kids something awful and I always want to be here for them. I can’t imagine not being here for any of my family and friends. Thirdly, I am just not ready!  

Among dealing with this depressive state, I had yet another procedure to go. I was not mentally or physically ready for this procedure. I dreaded it badly, but knew it had to be done. So 2 ½ weeks after my lung surgery Angie, mom, dad and I went back up to MAYO. My liver ablation was scheduled for September 13, a Thursday. We had to be there on the 12^th for pre-op. The pre-op this time consisted of another ultra sound. Again, after 30-45 minutes of searching my liver, the gal went to go get the radiologist to try and find the spot they were looking for. He had no such luck. Of course, this ultra sound was uncomfortable because they had to push the thing on the same side that’s been jacked with. They had to work around my incisions. The good thing about the girl is that she was a little more gentle. The radiologist came in and slapped that little tool on me and went to town. I just gritted my teeth. Since he couldn’t  find what he was looking for he wanted me to get ANOTHER MRI! However, he gave me a pretty good feeling about the liver for once. He told me that there is a good possibility that the spot is NOT cancer. I never looked so forward to an MRI. Again, I got poked with an IV, this time the nurse had a hard time finding the vein. Ouch! I went back to get strapped up and in the tube I went. I’ve never been so cold in my life. I recall falling asleep throughout the procedure and hearing the tech asking me to try to stay awake. She was very sweet and knew that the breaths in and out were really hard for me. I came out about 45 minutes later and was shaking harder than the first day I was told I had cancer. The nurse got me a few warm blankets and I sat and waited for the radiologist to review my images. I’ll paint the scene:

I am sitting in a roller chair with like 5 blankets on, the tech was standing next to me, the radiologist was concentrating on the computer. My family is out in the waiting room. My thoughts? What does he see and what is he going to tell me? Why am I so cold and why am I shaking so bad? He turns to me and says…."I don’t see that this is cancer in your liver." I looked at him stone faced and asked him to repeat himself. Again, he said it’s not cancer. I immediately broke down, shaking harder and tears started to flow. How can it be? I have been told for 2 months that the spot on the liver is cancer and now it’s not??? Is he sure, he’s only human, what if he is wrong? But, it’s not just him. There was a whole team of doctors looking at my images and biopsy results. So I have no choice but to have faith and trust in my doctors. So, he shook my hand and I thanked him through my tears. The tech walked me out to my family and stayed with us to make sure we were all ok. We were all so relieved and in shock. Angie helped me get dressed because I was a wreck and uncontrollably shaky.

As soon as we got ourselves composed, we walked out and went to celebrate with Kerry. Remember her, she is one of the gals who works at MAYO. She has quickly become on of the “not it, it” gang.

I didn’t have to have that liver ablation procedure. The radiologist didn’t think it was necessary. Holy  cow was I on cloud nine. Who would be excited to have STAGE 2B LUNG CANCER??? I would! That means a possible cure instead of a prolonging disease. We ended up staying the night in Minnesota, after all, I was to spend another night in the hospital if I had the procedure. I was just too exhausted to think about driving 3 ½ hours. As drained as I was, I didn't sleep to well that night. Some of it was because of the bed, but most of it was because all of these doubts were creeping in. I hear horror stories about people being told it's a benign tumor and than a few years down the road, it's spread all over and there's nothing they can do about it. Will that happen to me? Suddenly, a send a prayer up and remember to have faith and I finally drifted away.
 We got up the next morning and made our way towards home. This time, we decided to stop at Diamond Jo’s Casino. We thought luck was going our way, so why not? We all decided to put in only 5 dollars (turned into 20) and low and behold, we didn’t win anything. So, off to home with 20 less dollars and on to continued recovery.

Every week got easier for me. I eventually could walk a little farther, breath a little easier, and slowly get back to feeling “normal.” We had one more trip up to MAYO to wait for, but before we headed up for my check up, I was going to work on wowing my doctors. Three weeks after surgery, I decided that I was going to go on a walk and nothing was going to stop me. I walked 2 miles and decided I may have over committed, but I made it. The only thing that really bothered me was/is my coughing. Apparently, that is to be expected when your lung is trying to heal itself.  A day after that walk, I talked to Rose. Remember Rose, the nurse from Des Moines. She called to check on me. I shared my walking excursion and she was a little shocked. She asked me if I understood what I endured a few weeks ago. Honestly, I don’t think I do understand. I don’t think I fully understand what happened in that operating room, none the less, I am going to continue to walk farther and farther. I still have some very uncomfortable moments. I had trouble with an acid reflux feeling after I would eat, but that eventually went away. The pain eventually became hardly noticeable on most days. Sometimes I get subtle reminders that things are still really sensitive.

On October 2nd, we went back up for my 1st checkup since surgery. As soon as I walked in to the hospital, I got this sick feeling. It reminded me of having that surgery and my hospital stay. Again, I was overwhelmed with these emotions. My first appointment was for a chest x-ray. I was rather scared to get that x-ray. I could see my images as I stood there. I saw a spot, it was cloudy, but it made me wonder. While we were waiting to get the results, I sat there with my stomach in knots and my name is called out to meet my surgeon's PA. He had my x-ray up on the computer and it was the oddest looking picture. That chest x-ray, it came back normal. Well, I had a missing lobe, but that will be the new normal for me. The left part of me was normal, but on the right side my diaphragm had shifted up to fill in the empty spot of my lung. There was no sign of recurrence of my cancer. The PA was the one to tell us that everything looks great. We asked to see the lung surgeon, so he called him up to come see us. He remembered me and took time out of his operating day to come and see me. He walked in and I hoped up to shake his hand and he hugged me. He agreed to a procedure that potentially saved my life and cured me. He told me how different I look compared to the last time he saw me. I felt like a million bucks compared to the last time he saw me.  I didn’t want to let go of him, but I decided to let go to spare him any weird thoughts. That was it for us. I wasn’t going to see him or anyone else at MAYO, I was done there. My exit at MAYO went like this: “Taxi, arriving for STEPH.” Yup, we had a taxi pick us up and drive us to our car because I am a pretty big deal. So long Minnesota, Go Packers! Next up, October 10....Chemo talk.