My Choices Now

Well! The meeting today with my radiation doc went beautifully. (My charming sister's analogy comparing cancer treatment to a roller coaster ride is validated once again: after a sharp dip, there is often a quick rise.)

In my last posting, I wrote that I hoped the rad doc would give me the "green light" to have the food tube removed. He did better than that: he handed me a script so that I can talk directly to the surgeon and schedule the removal whenever I want. He did that because I haven't used the food tube in over a week and have put on three pounds since the last time he'd seen me. And I assured him that I was not comfortable at my current weight and planned on increasing it by at least another five pounds. He told me that he had patients who might say such a thing just to convince him to authorize the tube removal, but he understood my commitment, and was comfortable writing the script for me.

Now, the rad doc (who is a conservative sort of fellow) told me twice during the discussion that he would be happier if I waited for a couple of weeks just to be absolutely sure that the food tube was completely, absolutely unnecessary now and forever. But the decision on timing was still completely mine.

And what became clear to me as he was talking was that the actual removal of the tube (which is a real nuisance when you're taking a shower) wasn't the issue. It was much more an issue of who gets to make the decision. That, up until today, the doc could say "yes" or "no" to the tube removal and I had no recourse. Now, I can call the surgeon's office and find out how far in advance I need to schedule the operation, whether it's an overnight at the hospital again, what precautions have to be taken after the removal operation, etc. Me. I can do that now!

(So this afternoon, I went out and hit a few golf balls, as my E/N/T doc assured me that golf should not bother the tube or loosen the penetrations of abdomen and/or stomach lining. Felt good, don't see or feel any problems. So I think I can play in the upcoming fundraiser golf tournament for our local Quaker School without dislodging the tube in any way. So the actual removal can wait. Now, that's easy to say.)

After we got that resolved, I asked when we would schedule a scan -- which, as I mentioned in my last post, hadn't been done since May -- to determine whether my cancer has spread since then. And the doc told me he felt it should be a PET scan, and then he wrote another script and handed it to me! So I get to schedule this function too!

He told me that there could easily still be areas near the major surgery site that could still give a false positive reading (residue of the radiation therapy), and he suggested waiting at least another two or three weeks before having the scan to reduce the chances of that happening. And I found that I was okay with that, too. Because I now can choose when to have the scan performed.

Thinking back over how I felt when writing the last post, I understand that an important part of my despair was the feeling of helplessness. Others had pretty much absolute control over what happened to me. But my rad doc has not only given me some measure of control, but has felt comfortable doing it because of who I am and how I've handled the work he and I have done together.

I think the word I'm looking for is "trust." My rad doc trusts me.

There are still many opportunities for the roller coaster to take sharp dips and jarring turns, but for this moment, the ride is fine. Just fine.

What a difference a day makes!