Isn't life interesting? I had a PET scan a few weeks ago. When I went in for the scan, the technician hooked up an IV line in my arm and then brought in a vial of liquid that was so radio-active it came encased in a lead container, (yes, a lead container) with just the tip of the vial accessible. Made me feel a wee bit like superman, but also had me wondering about the tradeoffs of having this particular test done. In fact, since I was diagnosed I have been exposed to so many toxic and radio-active chemicals it amazes me that a body can survive the cure. Still, over the course of my treatment, I had been looking forward to the day when I would have this PET scan done. You discuss it with other patients and hear people talk about it in the lobby and treatment areas, and you smile when you overhear someone say "I got a clean PET scan." The PET scan would tell me that the cancer is all gone; the PET scan would provide closure. But going with my friend to her "results" appointment changed that.
It was at that appointment that I was made aware that a PET scan will only catch cancerous tumors that are at least 1 cm large. And suddenly it made sense how another friend of mine could have a "clean" PET scan one day and 30 days later be told her cancer had returned - had metastasized to her bones. The PET scan would not be the be-all and end-all of this journey. I was left looking for another mode of closure.
The good news is my friend received a "clean" PET scan at the end of April and at the end of May so did I; but on the flip side, in between those scans, another friend was diagnosed with uterine cancer. Two steps forward and one step back is still one step in the right direction. And the next step for me would be the first step for her, a total hysterectomy.
Over the last few weeks we have both undergone our surgery. Soon I will begin hormone therapy and she will begin her chemo and radiation treatments, and I will be there for her, however she needs. The journey continues.
Closure continues to be elusive, but I'm thinking that's okay. We don't really get to walk away from cancer, there is always the lingering concern that the cancer will return, there are always friends and relatives that get diagnosed, and the fear that we've passed a cancer gene onto a child; but, beyond all that there are the lessons we take with us and pass on. Lessons in navigating medical jargon, treatment options and the health care system. Lessons in managing side effects, tying a scarf and picking out hats. Lessons in eating healthier, exercising more and managing stress. Lessons in faith, patience, and overcoming fear. Lessons in friendship and gratitude and grace.
So on we go, taking with us what we've learned, paying it forward.
Life goes on and life...is good.
