Some News Is Good News!

Damn, but it feels good to know SOMEthing about something for once!

The oncology visit yesterday was very nice. Great doctor, nice staff, seems like I'm in good hands. His preliminary* staging is that the tumor is a Stage 1B1 tumor, at about 3 cm+ in size. At this stage, it is entirely operable, through what is called a radical trachelectomy, which is a removal of the entire cervix, as well as a portion of the upper vaginal canal and the perimetrium tissues surrounding the cervix, to allow him to get at the pelvic lymph nodes and get those boogers out too.
*preliminary is the best we're going to get until after surgery, but I'll take it

At this stage, Dr. Pisani says that the odds of the lymph nodes being involved is only about 15%--not bad at all--but let's get those while we're in there, shall we? (Hell, is there anything else extraneous he can pull while he's there?) Generally, there is no need for either radiation or chemo after this type of deal unless pathology finds that there is a significant lymph node involvement, or some other bizarre distant metastasis. That said, my handy-dandy cancer reference book gives the projected 5 year survival rate for this stage at 70-95%, and those are pretty decent odds.

Surgery is being scheduled. Dr. Pisani says that he will have his partner, Dr. Chen, assist during my procedure, so their team and the hospital are coordinating to see how soon they can get me in an OR. Meantime, I will be doing things like getting a mammogram, just to be on the safe side, cutting NSAIDs and caffeine and such out of my life again, getting set up for some private yoga instruction and otherwise trying to get things in order and ready.

The hope is that this will be entirely laparoscopic, with a 1-2 night hospital stay. There is a chance it could require a laparotomy bikini cut, which would increase the hospital stay by a day or two. During the surgery, he'll place stents in both ureters, which will stay in place until well after surgery and he'll remove those in his office later. I may be on a catheter for many days, or even up to two weeks afterwards, but catheters don't bother me, especially if it did end up being an open surgery--hell, the fewer times I have to get up the better, and we all know how often I have to get up to pee!

Again, lots of this stuff will be determined in the OR, so no way to tell now if I'll have an easy lap recovery, or be looking at a full 8-week downtime from open surgery, but I know what I'm getting into either way.

The one thing Dr. Pisani can't explain is the pain I'm in. He says it is rare for this size tumor in this place to cause pain like I'm feeling, but at least he believes me that I am in pain, and is willing to do something about it. Trust me, it's there.

The other good news of the day is that El Camino Hospital has a very nice cancer center, which actually has a concierge. Apparently, her job is to help you coordinate all of the moving pieces to your treatment, find resources and support services, etc, etc. She is very nice, sent me home with a giant pile of reading material and such, and seems like she'll be a valuable source as we move through all of this. It's a very nice place, and I came out of the entire visit feeling like I'd had a weight lifted off me.

I mean, this is me we're talking about... tell me "you have cancer, sit and wait and someone will get back to you someday, they're busy" and I turn into a blathering wreck. Sit me down and speak to me as if I DO have a brain and spent many years working around doctors and FDA documents and very smart people, and speak in concrete medical terms with lots of big words, give me an idea of where I stand and tell me what to DO about it, and tell me I might be able to have cool-o new robotic surgery, and I'm a happy person. I understand things like informed consent forms and treatment protocols!

Psychologically, for someone like me, it's actually useful to make me feel like I am an active participant in the entire process, instead of just patting me on the head like a slightly slow 2-year-old.

So, the next big news will come when we find out when surgery will be, but I have lots of things to do to prepare now, "homework" of sorts, and a great reduction in that crushing sense of dread of the unknown. We're in familiar territory now... I'm even already planning my survival-slash-victory tattoo. {insert evil laugh here}

I feel like I'm forgetting something, but I forget what it is...so, that's probably it. I think now, finally, I'm going to be able to come to terms with my new identity as a CANCER PATIENT and I'm devoting today to relaxing and figuring out what that means, and marshalling my resources. Lots to consider and still a scary road ahead, BUT I feel like I at least have a map or something now.

That merits dancing chickens for today.