4th Down

     Sorry to mislead you with the title--this isn't going to be about football!  Yes, I am one of the few Americans who has no interest in conference championships and Superbowl games.  I would go to a Superbowl party but only if there were good food.  I focus on anything on the field that has nothing to do with the game:  Oooh, it's raining!  They are going to get muddy!  That uniform color is so ugly!  Why does he keep spitting? That's just gross.  How cold is it there?  Ewww, I can see through his pants-someone needs to test them to make sure they are sweat proof!  Okay, that beard is just WAY TOO lumberjack!  I can't believe those people are cheering for an injury--how tacky!  What are those stickers on the helmets?  Look how short that commentator is standing next to that football player!  Wow, THAT'S a big boy!  Ooh, that one's a cutie pie--oh my gosh I could be his mother! Whoops--shouldn't have had the camera on that guy--everyone can read his lips!  F-bomb central! 
     Anyone who had even a fleeting thought of inviting me to a Superbowl party now has a reason to cross me off the list.  I think I might be a tad bit annoying to an actual football fan...like my husband.  He has the patience of a saint in that regard.  
     So I'm finished with the 4th treatment--checking that off the mental list feels great--now at least!  I have to confess to having a strange psychological meltdown starting the night before.  I was just not feeling psyched about "getting one more done."  Even with the good news from the doctor.  I just felt...anxious?  Discouraged?  A little too "here we go again, this is my life, hook up, feel crappy, recover, hook up, feel crappy, recover."  Seriously, it was a little unexpected pity party of one. So getting ready to go in the morning was interrupted by a bout of tears that I couldn't even really understand myself.  And my younger sister who has been in town did a great job of letting me have my moment and hugging me and then I could just get my brain back to where it had to be.  As I have learned, her son will sometimes, in the midst of a sobbing meltdown, say with passion: "You know what?  It's OKAY to cry!  It's OKAY!"  Which, when coming from a 3-year old, is totally sad and adorable at the same time.  But if he says it's okay, then I'm going to say it's okay for me, too.
     I was able to play with my sis for several days prior to getting hooked up, which has been a wonderful bonus!  Nothing too exciting--grocery shopping, binge watching TV shows, getting massages (if you live near me, I will hook you up with the best massage therapist on the planet, just sayin').  My sis got to experience the wonders of the Drug Den with me--the 4 hours that seems so quick now compared to that seven-hour extravaganza!  And Wendy Wonder Woman was my nurse again--hooray! I napped away a good portion of that time, thank goodness.  We shared a Cheetos toast--clinked the orange sticks of goodness together!  Snuggled under hot blankets--I snored and likely drooled and had my Chemo Jams going, and she listened to her audio book and crocheted, and we just chilled out!  I wore my Bald and Badass T-shirt to try to boost my psychological sass factor.  Had two lovely visitors.  In and out before you know it!
     Thank all of you for the encouraging comments after my last post that gave us positive feedback from the PET scan--it filled up my bucket of good feelings that helped me when I had those down moments.  And thanks so much to those of you who have sent cards and comics and texts and emails.  Quick shout out to the Jazzercize Queens:  You surprised the HECK out of me!! You are awesome!  Just know that when I hear Uptown Funk I'm Jazzing along with you!  Someday I'll be back--and my hair won't block anyone's view!  Ha! 
     And to all the network of family and friends in California who stepped in to make it possible for my sister to leave her family for 10 days to come be with me in Cancer World, I can't thank you enough. It takes a village, and you are it!  Hugs!  Mwah!
     So the following is just more detail on the PET results, very med-geek speak, so I'll START off with the generic and then, if you want to skip all the blah blah blah, feel free.
    We met with the oncologist prior to treatment, so I got the lowdown on the PET scan results.  I was really looking for a citrus fruit match to the tumor--I know we started at grapefruit, so I wanted to know where we are now in the vast world of fruit.  So the topic of what kind of fruit now lives in my chest has been a subject of hot debate in this house.  We were thinking lime.  A small lime.  Not as small as a key lime.  But then it was thought that there is too wide a variation in lime sizing.  More specificity was required.  So we drew out the dimensions. Maybe we can say it's like a Clementine/Cutie, one of those ones they sell in a big bag, perfect for kids' lunches, no seeds?   Anyway, I'll give dimensions later and you can make the call.
     So the CT portion of the scan gives us the size of everything, and the PET gives us the activity.  I had never seen the original PET scan, and the doctor showed me the brightly lit grapefruit in my chest from the start of all this.  YIKES!  Then she showed me the PET scan from now--hellooooo, I'm not seeing even a nightlight's worth of light!  SWEET!!  So the meds are kicking ass and taking names! It's a beautiful thing!
      Here's where we go geek.  For fruit reference:  Tumor now measures 5.8 x 4.2 cm. The SUV number indicates the activity--what kind of rapidly dividing cancer cell action is going on within this tumor:  Baseline is 1, my first PET scan showed 23.2, and now we are at a 3.5.  I'm liking that immensely!
     The two adjacent lymph nodes also have their own numbers:  One was measuring 1.7 x 1.9 cm and is now 1.7 x 1.2.  It's SUV was 4.8, now it is a 1 (baseline--whoop whoop).  The other lymph node was 1 cm and is now 8 mm.  It's SUV was 2.6, and now it is 1.7.
     Fluid in the lining of my lung is gone, swelling is down, I'm breathing easier, especially on my back.  It's feeling pretty good in the hood, I must say.  The only thing I wish is that I had some kind of outside indicator, like the little icon that shows how much battery life is left on an electronic device, to let me know where I am in a day.  I sometimes think an activity is not going to suck as much energy out of me as it does, and then I end up pretty low at a time of day when I'm not expecting it.  Sometimes I'm in a position where I can just nap, and sometimes I've put myself in a position where I can't just lay down in some random place with strangers and cut some Zs.  So I'm working on judging things a little better.
     My friend sent me a hilarious picture upon hearing the positive PET news:

     Yes, happy dancing is happening on this end.
     So you won't hear from me for a bit--the napping cycle is kicking in and I will be just going with it, so I'll post when I am out of hibernation.  It's all good.

Chemo Jams:  "Mission" by Lupe Fiasco (yes, again, it's rad), "99 Problems" by Hugo (gives it that twang that I love), "Times Like These" by Foo Fighters, "Simple Gifts" by Allison Kraus and Yo-Yo Ma, "Mess Around" by Cage the Elephant, "Holiday" by Green Day, "Yellow Ledbetter" by Pearl Jam (my favorite completely-indecipherable-lyrics-song in the whole world), "Container" by Southern Creek Players feat. Fiona Apple, "Everybody Hurts" by R.E.M. (sorry if I have repeats here...it's just what strikes me from one treatment to the next)