November 15, 2021
On Vacation from Lung Cancer
Lung cancer is such a pain. Just when I think I can move on to something more interesting, there are tests and doctor visits, all kinds of new-ish language, more questions to look into. So, there I am, back at the beginning, checking out things I don’t know. (Or, in this instance, not checking them out. <guilty grin>) I know, I know. I can’t advocate for myself from a place of ignorance. It’s just that we were away for four days, walking through the Olympic National Park in Port Angeles Washington. It was nice to be away from stupid cancer, even if we were walking smack into the rainy season. That’s the recent decision: do all the things that matter, no matter what the weather or other circumstances. So we did, and it was great. Wet, but great nonetheless.
My Hero, Dr. Lungs
While we were away, I squeezed in a video visit with Dr. Lungs (formerly Dr. Pulmonology). We reviewed Lung Things: tapering prednisone, circumstances when I should call him, pulse ox levels– oh my! I just remembered, I need to make appointments for after my December CT scan (ordered by Dr. Oncology) for a visit with him, and for more pulmonary function tests. Thanks for reminding me!
The Big Goal is to taper off prednisone without a recurrence of pneumonitis. While he doesn’t anticipate a recurrence, it can happen. Then there would be other immunosuppressants I’d get to experience (oooh, lucky me). Also, as the prednisone drops to 10 mg. and below, I will experience an increase in fatigue. Perhaps it will become overwhelming. (Naps! Naps! Naps!) If all goes according to plan, I will be free of that nasty medicine on December 29. Decreasing by 2.5 mg. a week seems painfully slow, but if it keeps me sane and relatively healthy, I’m all for it.
Here is the most awesome news ever: He has no problem with me working out at 60-80% of my max heart rate. “Just don’t go crazy,” he said. (Like working out at 80% after months of slowish walking and very low-impact riding on a stationary bike isn’t crazy? Yikes! Even I think that’s nuts.)
Now, here are your vocabulary words for this week, drawn from his notes on the September radiology report that just appeared in my chart: interstitial infiltrates, intraparenchymal, reticular. Please copy them five times each and use each one in a sentence. Extra points if you use all of them in a meaningful paragraph.
Addendum to the Visit with Dr. Radiology
I don’t think I mentioned one small item from my recent visit with Dr. Radiology. It’s about .7 cm small, to be exact– “a rounded nodule” nestled up against the scar tissue from the radiation. Here’s where taking responsibility for one’s care comes in handy. In the September CT angio pulmonary report, there was a one-sentence comment about this previously unseen lung nodule. I did enough reading to know that nodules are usually nothing to get excited about unless they are larger than 8 cm, and even then, all they do is regular CTs. (Unless you have lung cancer, I suppose.) I made a mental note to bring it up at the next visit with whichever doc got to me first. That happened to be Dr. Radiology.
In the visit, I brought up the nodule with her. She promptly pulled up the report, then ordered copies of those scans from Dr. Lungs’ office so she could compare all the scans herself. They weren’t immediately available, so I asked all the “what if…” questions. I learned if it were to be cancer, we would be able to do several very high intensity radiation sessions and zap that thing into smithereens.
Here’s where I should do some reading. What chemo-related things might come with that? (Ha– radiation with a side order of chemo…). But it might not be cancer– there’s just so much inflammation in my lung, plus scarring, that we have to wait. “Cancer will announce itself,” she declared. How? “It will grow.” When the phone rang at 8:10 the next morning, it was Dr. Radiology. She’d looked at the September and August scans and maybe could see the beginnings of the nodule in August but who could tell? And so we wait.
See what I mean? Lung cancer is a pain. Plus really boring.
Oh, and did I mention that in her visit notes, she noted my steroid-induced round face, otherwise known as “moon face”? <sigh> See photo, above. NOT one of my better looks.
Meanwhile, we’ve adopted a needy family for Christmas. Caseworkers of different local social service agencies nominate families, who are then selected by folks like us. While we are having the best time fulfilling their wish list, it’s sobering when the dad asks for gift cards to buy groceries and the mom asks for paper products and cleaning supplies. They’re getting all that, plus everything else. It’s the least we can do.
Here’s hoping you overcome a bothersome little thing in your day and get to buy some presents, too.
Thanks for reading.
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Laser image by WikiImages from Pixabay
Moonface image by Mona El Falaky from Pixabay