Yesterday...all my troubles seemed so far away

The day has finally come to find out about my treatment plan. Something I have strangely been anxious about. But, before we made our way to Des Moines, I decided to take another walk. On this walk I noticed a few more things I never noticed before. Newton has a LOT of squirrels and they are so delicate with their nuts. (hahahaha, I may be going a little a crazy). Watching them bury or unbury the nuts, they dig and dig and replace their divots. No one can tell where those nuts are hidden. It's like their little secret. I love squirrels. I keep walking and see this half open garage with an older gentleman standing in there. I saw a can in his hand and he set it down on his riding lawn mower, it was a 16 oz can of beer and it was almost noon. The first thought that came to my mind is...I wonder if he's hiding from his wife? Maybe that beer drinking time is his little secret. As they say, it's 5 o'clock somewhere. This made me think of how many people have secrets in their lives and do I have any? I used to, a big one, but so obvious to others. Maybe my cancer is a secret to anyone who doesn't know me. To the people passing me on the street I look normal, gay, but normal. :) They have no clue and neither do so many I pass everyday, but soon enough, it will no longer be a secret. Let me explain....
Late yesterday afternoon we talk to Dr. Freeman, my oncologist in Des Moines. Assuming he has touched base with my oncologist from MAYO he will have the best treatment plan for me. He walks into the room, shakes my hand and I can see in his eyes that he cares very much. I hadn't seen him since July 20, so being in that office brought back some nasty feelings. Matter of fact, see these chairs

These are the chairs we sat in that awful day. Here these chairs are empty, a good symbol of how I felt that day and largely how I felt after this appointment today. Turns out he never consulted with my doctor at MAYO and the only information he had from my procedures from there, were what I had faxed him. A little unsettling from both places. However, for some strange reason, I have great trust in Dr. Freeman. The problem is...we had our hearts set that I went from Stage 4 the worst, to Stage 2b. Stage 2b made me very happy because that means my tumor was slightly large, between 5-7 cm and had spread to some lymph nodes (2 in my case) on the same side of the chest and the tumor can be surgically removed (which mine had been). It doesn't sound positive, but compared to Stage 4 it is.
Dr. Freeman staged me a 3b. Stage 3b means that typically tumors spread to the lymph nodes (which again mine did) but on the opposite side of the tumor (which mine was on the same side??) and the tumor starts to invade other structures such as the heart or arteries. How in the hell can I be Stage 3b, I met none of those criteria other than my lymph nodes were involved. Also, the higher the stage, typically the shorter life span or there's more of a chance of recurrence. I don't want to be Stage 3b, I don't want to be on any Stage, except Ellen DeGeneres's, is that so hard to accomplish? It was that moment I felt that same feeling, the one I had the moment I was told I had cancer. The inside of my body became increasingly warm, shocks were going all through me, and my leg began to shake uncontrollably. EVERY time we step foot into a Des Moines doctor's office it seems like we walk out with a kick in the gut. I understand that doctors have to tell you the worst to cover their ass, but seriously. MAYO was never like that. They gave me a sense of peace and hope each and every time. I do believe that we were spoiled there and being dismissed from MAYO is not a good feeling. Although, I don't think Des Moines is my problem. My problem is cancer. Today's appointment brought back the reality, before it was just a date on the calendar. The reality is, I have lung cancer and no matter what stage I am in, it's still cancer. All of the questions came back, why me? What does my future look like, will I even have one? And so on.....just when I was starting to forget.
Anyway, after the staging talk he explained how I would have a port placed in my chest. This will be very helpful when I come in for treatment because it takes the place of an IV. Thankfully, I won't have to get poked in my veins each time, just a tiny poke to my port. This is a good thing because I have to do this for 18 weeks, a total of 12 treatments and I am tired of getting poked. They will use 2 drugs, Cistplatin and Gemzar. Cistplatin is one of the oldest chemo drugs, it's been around a long time because it works, but it's also comes with a lot of unpleasant side effects. The other drug is pretty mild. I won't be finished until the end of February. I called up to MAYO to talk to my oncologist, he agreed that he would treat me the same way. So, if I want a real chance at a "cure" I get the hard stuff. I will probably lose my hair and a few pounds, I will no longer be able to hide this secret to the people driving by, but I'll keep on walking.
I go in at 8:30 tomorrow morning to receive my port....let's see how this goes