My Incredible Shrinking Monkey

I have no patience and Neurosurgery be damned!

Since I had yet to be contacted by my neurosurgeon, I asked my regular oncologist at my chemo appointment today, "What's up with my brain?"

Evidently, all is well, or on it's way to being well on that front. The spot is shrinking into non-existence.

Last October, she had taken me off of Avastin due to kidney troubles which, once resolved in February, allowed me to go back on it. She believes that going off the Avastin caused the growth, and going back on it smacked it back down. Which is good for now, but it also holds some uncertainty for the future - which I suppose you live with when you have cancer regardless.

So for now, we'll stick with the monkey theme and say that we've kept my crazy monkey at bay.

Yay.

Thanks to everyone for their kind thoughts and prayers.

Love to all.

Ruth

Monkey Mind

 

 

Cancer is back on my mind, figuratively and perhaps literally.

 

Not that it ever leaves my mind for very long. But at my last neuro appointment two months ago, they told me there was a spot. They said that it could merely be one of those oddities that appears depending on how the MRI ‘slices’ you for imaging. But at my last chemo appointment three weeks ago, I was told there was a small (tiny, little, wee, barely perceptible) growth in two areas. I looked at the scans and, sure enough, the tumors looked puffy – like my fingers after a salt binge. She made some small adjustments to my chemo drug line-up and I didn’t really think much of it.

But I had another brain scan last Friday. Usually if there’s no problem, they call me in a day or two and tell me that I don't have to come in. 

The haven't called me.

So I’m starting my mental slog back into the cancer black hole. Like directly after my diagnosis, I’m living in a cancer-colored world. It’s all cancer and brain metastases.

I’ve gone so far as to start looking a 2^nd line treatments and investigating whole brain radiation (which, by the way, is completely and utterly unappealing).

Oh, and I’m hyper-vigilant about my cell phone thinking at it very loudly, “CALL!! Damn you. CALLLLLLL!! You stupid, overworked neurosurgeon!!!”

It’s getting really weird on a whole new level. I was sitting here eating dates and I caught myself thinking, “Hmmm. I wonder if there’s stuff in dates that can cure brain metastases.”

Possible brain metastasis aside, having cancer is hell on your mental health.