Last Tuesday I met with my oncologist. It was just my
routine check up.
Routine my fucking ass: she asked the ordinary questions, I
answered them as honestly as possible, while keeping my dignity. Dr. Sanborn
said my lungs looked great (comparatively speaking). She slowly brought it down
to the nitty gritty. There was a growth in my adrenal gland. And from my
answers to her questions, she ordered a full PET scan and a brain MRI.
Before I even left the oncology office I had appointments
for the next day starting at 7:30AM for a PET scan and an MRI, and an appointment with Dr. Sanborn the
day after. I heard stat and emergent so many times during the scheduling my head
spun. For those of you unfamiliar with the movement of the medical industry,
this was quicker than the speed of light. I came home and read the symptoms of
lung cancer metastasized to the brain. Oh, fuck… so many. Now I knew why she
thought it emergent.
Being ever calm and stable, I of course, jumped to the worst
conclusion. I assumed I would be dead in a matter of months. Sorry, been thru this before.
Well, Thursday proved me wrong. The brain MRI came back
clear. There was this one little piece of shit that appeared out of nowhere in
my Adrenal gland, but I already knew about it.
Yes, there is a chance, a remarkably remote chance, that it
is benign.
So I had a biopsy yesterday. I’m no Pollyanna. The cancer is
back.
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