I didn’t need good news a year and a half ago when I wrote about the good news I received (and continued to receive) with so much caution. I was thinking about the big picture then–no matter what the news, I still have cancer. I was also feeling good and going to school. Now i’m stuck in the small picture. I feel crappy and I have graduated from school but I can’t get a job yet. I will greedily take all the good news I can get.
So I enjoy the small things, like eating ice cream on the beach with my boyfriend. Or walking to my current favorite farmer’s market. And I try to hold onto the good news I get tightly, because without it, I feel pretty pitiful.
Leading up to yesterday’s appointment with my oncologist I ran through every possible bad scenario in my head. If my tumors could be upgraded from a G-2 to a G-3, what else incomprehensible could happen? Why shouldn’t my octreotide scan, which determines my eligibility for the PRRT in Europe, also be negative? Why shouldn’t this fluid that has continued to impede my recovery also contain cancer cells trying to metastasize to my lungs? My mom brought an overnight bag up to the appointment just in case these fears turned out to be true.
These fears turned out to be only fears. My tumors may be on the aggressive side, but they appear to still have a weakness called octreotide. I am going to Europe for treatment. Bad Berka, Germany to be specific. And the fluid, though annoying, is just fluid.
I’ll take it.
I’m going to stop short of predicting a miraculous remission. But starting from a place of, “I’m not going to live through this,” a ray of sunlight is nice for a change. Even if that ray is in the old East Germany, a place perhaps not often associated with sunlight. The sunlight doesn’t stop this fluid from being uncomfortable and counter-productive and another thing to deal with before we’re allowed to get this show on the road–but it’s a problem for tomorrow, or the next day, or next week. Right now I have pretzels and flights to think about, doctors and assistants to email, and the promise of a new treatment in Germany to enjoy. And a walk to the farmer’s market.
I would like to take a moment to say thank you to everyone who has commented and emailed words of encouragement–these have been a hard few months and it helps to hear the support. I would also like to say my humblest thank you to everyone who has donated to my “sending me to Germany fund” so far. My sister’s pillow sales have exploded–she’s up to her knees in fleece, felt, hot glue, and pillow stuffing–and she still has more for sale. We are so lucky to know so many generous people. So far we’ve brought in almost enough for two round-trip flights! That’s more than I was expecting and every bit helps. The only thing decidedly NOT sun-filled about this treatment is its price tag.