Qualified Good News

We finally met our oncologist today and while we didn't come out of the appointment singing and dancing like Gene Kelly in Singin' In the Rain, we left feeling more positive about things than we have in a week. We still don't know a lot but we know more than we knew going in. If nothing else, we are relieved just to feel as if we are moving forward somehow. Granted, we've got plenty more "hurry up and wait" in the immediate future, but at least it feels like a more directed hurry up and wait.

This is the version of Singing in the Rain we can relate to.

The appointment began with the doctor more confused than we were. In response to a pre-appointment bet, Karen blurted "So Doc, give it to me straight" like James Cagney whereupon I promptly paid her a dollar. A good laugh was had by all except for the doctor who likely added "Check for brain cancer" right then and there on his To Do list.

The big news is that there is no big news. That said, we did find out some things for certain. Let's start with the good. Our doctor said that the spots on the liver that had worried the ER personnel were most likely cysts and nothing to worry about. Although future tests could change that assessment, the doctor is fairly certain we're good there. Also, the scary-ass observation that there was a problem with Karen's lymph nodes was confirmed but promptly deflated: since the nodes in question are actually in her lungs, it's not really an issue since it hasn't spread to other nodes. It's like having a skunk in your bedroom. If it stinks up the closet too, well, it's not like it's really made things worse. If the skunk starts spraying ass juice all over the kitchen and dedicated macrame-and-scrapbooking nook, you're screwed. Also, the biopsy confirmed that this was lung cancer that started in her lungs meaning, again, that it hadn't violated the big Do Not Migrate rule of cancer by moving into her lungs from, oh, let's say, her childlike sense of wonder.

This is all good news but it's super-qualified good news. Karen is going to have to have a PET scan on her body and an MRI on her brain (doubtlessly thanks to our stupid bet) to be certain there has been no spread of the cancer. So this preliminary bit of happiness could well be reversed.

The bad news. As Dr. Sirott so poetically put it, "This is an ugly cancer." I got to see the CT scan for the first time and it's dramatic. The tumor is a good three inches across and progressively squeezes the bronchial tube until it's not much bigger than a pinhole. On a scale of 1 to 10 where 1 is not a big deal and 10 is what you get for sleepovers in Chernobyl, Karen's cancer is a 7. It is inoperable and therefore it is incurable. That said, it can be beaten into submission in a manner similar to many memorable Steve Buscemi characters.

The Buscemi character we intend to emulate with Karen's cancer.

There will be more tests in the next week and half. A PET scan, an MRI, and another biopsy since the first biopsy was inconclusive as to which sub-type of cancer Karen has. Once all that info is in, we will be able to address all the big questions like what stage it is, what the prognosis is, and what treatment we will undertake. The answers to all these and more will come December 12 when we meet again with Dr. Sirott.

Thanks for all the warm wishes and concern. They are a source of strength for us. We're lucky to have such good friends and family.

STATUS UPDATE

• The spots on Karen's liver are likely cysts and not cancer. Future tests will confirm this.
• The affected lymph nodes are in Karen's lungs and not elsewhere in her body.
• The above two points mean that the cancer hasn't spread which is good.
• But there's still a chance it might have spread elsewhere. A PET scan and MRI will answer this.
• The cancer originated in the lungs and hasn't spread to the lungs from another site.
• The cancer is inoperable and incurable. But it is treatable.
• On a scale of 1 to 10 where 10 is terrible cancer, Karen's is a 7.
• Once other tests are complete we will know what is what and can settle on a treatment plan.