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…and I am CANCER FREE!

Waiting for the isotopes before my PET scan.

After finishing my scan on Monday, the doctor came out and asked me when I finished chemo. I replied “December 21st” and he said “Oh! Right before Christmas!” I nodded, remembering how uneventful it seemed being sick over the holidays and worrying if maybe the chemo wasn’t enough.

The doctor then said he looked at the scan and that “it looks like it’s all cleared up.”

I said “Really!? That’s awesome!” And then the doctor wished me luck and returned to his office.

The technician walked me to the waiting room where my dad was. She said the doctor rarely comes out and tells patients the results of a scan before giving his report to the oncologists.

I immediately told my dad the good news, we hugged. I then visited my Grammie who is staying in the same hospital, and ran into my older sister who gave me a cinnamon bun the size of my head.

The night of the good news. Buster wondering why I woke him up.

Despite knowing that my scan was clear, I still had a lot of questions for my oncologist. Unfortunately, when I saw him on Tuesday he hadn’t received the PET scan report yet, so I had to wait for any more details.

I spoke with my oncologist over the phone early yesterday and he confirmed that the PET scan showed no metabolic activity. That means NO CANCER (*fist pumps*).

However, there is still a “residual mass” in my chest. This is a very common occurrence for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma patients, especially those with bulky tumours such as my own (bulky means it’s larger than 10 cm in size. Mine was 14 cm, or 5.5 inches). Because the residual mass did not light up on the PET scan, it is not cancerous and not growing. My oncologist is fairly certain it’s scar tissue, and from what I’ve read, having a residual mass won’t necessarily increase my risk of recurrence.

Now there is the big question as to whether or not I’ll do radiation to further shrink that residual mass and zap the area that was once active. In the past, 6 months chemo + 1 month radiation was the norm for people with my diagnosis. However, the most recent studies have shown that radiation may not prevent Hodgkin’s from coming back any more than just having chemo. Radiation also increases the risk of getting a secondary cancer down the road. Something of particular concern because of my younger age.

My oncologist recommended that I don’t do radiation, but he’s leaving it to my radiologist to make a formal recommendation. The decision to get it is ultimately mine, but I trust my doctors and will likely do what they say. I do know that my oncologist is highly respected so there’s a good chance my radiologist will follow his recommendation, unless she isn’t as satisfied with my scan. I’m not sure how large the residual mass is yet.

I meet with the radiologist on Friday, so I will update you all on the radiation bit after then!

As of right now, my feelings are mixed. I’m elated to know that I no longer have a cancer inside of me, and that I can get my horrendous PICC line out!

The PICC is the tube hanging out of my arm for giving IV drugs and taking blood.

On the other hand, I am nervous about this radiation thing. I am nervous to start living my life dealing with the long-term side effects of cancer and its treatment. The cancer may come back, my lungs still feel off, the chemo can affect my heart, gall bladder, the list goes on and on.

Just because the cancer is gone, it does not mean the complications and emotions that come with it are suddenly gone too. I am definitely happy I was able to get rid of my cancer, but I much prefer to have never had cancer at all.

In the end, I do realize I’m lucky to have gotten rid of it at all. There are many out there who are diagnosed with less favourable kinds of cancer. But I am not fooling myself into thinking I will ever be the same again. I unfortunately learned the hard way that I’m not as invincible as I once thought I was.

I have a lot to say, but I will leave it there for today. However I can’t forget to give a big THANK YOU for sending so many well wishes, good vibes, prayers, and healing chants. Those of you who sent comments, messages, and tweets over the past few days, I am sorry I couldn’t respond to every single one of you. But please know I read and appreciated every single one. Also, thank you to the silent readers who also sent positive energy my way. I am not too hippie-dippie when it comes to this stuff, but I will take anything I can get if it will help keep the cancer away!

There is certainly still more to my cancer journey, but I’m sure we can all agree that the worst is now hopefully over.

Today, a plane will take off in Toronto carrying radioactive isotopes destined for Saint John, New Brunswick.

At the same time, I will be in the car with my dad heading for the same destination.

Once we both arrive, the isotopes will be injected into my veins. I’ll sit in a dark room for close to an hour as they spread through my body. Nothing to read or do, as a stimulated brain can create a false image.

I’ll then lay on a PET scanning machine and move in and out of it slowly for around 30 minutes.

The radioactive isotopes will react with the sugar in my body so areas where there is metabolic activity will light up in an image. Any spots that light up are considered to be actively cancerous and growing.

Source: CENTRE JEAN PERRIN, ISM/SCIENCE PHOTO LIBRARY

Last time I had a PET scan, in July 2011, I had a spot light up just above my heart. Cancer wrapped around the superior vena cava that pumps blood into my heart. Another spot was located under my right arm and removed in surgery shortly after.

Today, after six months of chemotherapy, I am desperately hoping there are no bright spots on that image. That would mean I am cancer-free and require no more treatment. If there is still evidence of activity, my doctors may decide on 4+ weeks of radiation, which would consist of direct a ray of radiation to my chest for 10 minutes, 5 days a week. Then there’s a possibility that it could be worse…

I have always been optimistic about this cancer thing, but I enter today’s scan considerably less optimistic. I recently noticed I still have visible veins on the left side of my chest. Previously, those colourful veins were a sign that the cancer was squeezing around that big vein that goes into my heart and restricting blood flow. I’m scared that is happening again.

I likely won’t get the results today. I meet with my oncologist tomorrow and then my radiologist on Friday. That means I should know the results of the scan tomorrow, then what the remainder of my treatment plan is by Friday. Hopefully.

The last five weeks since finishing chemo have been a little snippet of what going back to my “normal” life could be like. I am ready to go back to work, get a place of my own, travel, and spend more time with friends. Having to get radiation will likely put all of that on hold and have me feeling sick again. I’ve been preparing myself for radiation ever since my diagnosis, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready or willing. I would love so much to get news that this is all over starting today. But I’m uncharacteristically pessimistic about this one.

As a result, I am graciously collecting well wishes, good vibes, prayers, and healing chants from all my internet friends. You know where to send them. Thank you. I’ll let you know the results as soon as I know!