6 month folllow up with the Radiation Oncologist

Dr. "S" and me

Today was my six month check up visit to the radiation oncologist. Actually, it was a little over 6 months because I'd been out of state and had to reschedule my appointment. When I walked into the radiation oncology clinic, I was surprised when the receptionist handed me a clipboard with a lot of papers on it. I wondered if she thought I was a new patient and must have given her a puzzled look because she said, "don't worry, just first of the year formalities." I took the stack of papers, clipboard, and pen and sat down to busy myself with filling them out. I wondered why they didn't already have all of this information stored in their computers and I'll admit, I was a little frustrated. As I filled out the papers, I saw a little boy out of the corner of my eye. He was zooming a rubber farm truck around the office floor. I saw his grandmother looking to see if he was bothering me and I just smiled. I asked the little boy how old he was by saying, "are you 2?" His grandmother beamed and said yes. I told her I had 8 grandchildren and was able to guess the age of little ones pretty accurately.

As I sat and continued filling out my papers, people were being called back for treatment. There was an older man who struggled to walk through the door, there were two women both with apparent breast cancer. My heart ached for them as they were all 3 just beginning their treatments. I was glad I didn't have to go through radiation any longer.

After about thirty minutes of waiting, the nurse called me back to get my vital statistics. She asked a zillion questions and entered information into the computer. When she was through, she handed me a gown and told me to get undressed from the waist up. I knew the drill. I sat on the crinkly white paper atop the examination table for a few minutes and then jumped up to check out the room. I hate just sitting on the table swinging my legs like a little girl. I looked over the otoscope and blood pressure monitor. I looked to see what size nitrile gloves she wears and even took a peek at the computer screen which the nurse failed to hide beneath an active screensaver. I love reading medical data especially when it's about me! I was listed under the ICD-9 code as a 174.1 which codes as malignant neoplasm of the central portion of the breast.

I heard the doc outside the room so I jumped back up on the table. As she entered, she greeted me with a big smile. I told her I'd missed seeing her but I hadn't missed the radiation treatments. She grinned. "I can understand that," she said. She started asking questions about my general health and how I was feeling. She asked if I'd noticed any new lumps, bumps, or worrisome places. Had I been having weird headaches? Did I have stomach pain? Spinal pain? Belly pain? Bladder? I answered no to all of her questions and then she went down my medication list. Are you still taking....? What about ....? Yes, yes, yes everything was a yes until she got to Arimidex. I told her to cross that one off the list. She looked up and asked why. I explained about the horrible side effects.

Dr. "S" pulled up some documents on the computer screen and they were obviously letters from Dr. Feinstein, my oncologist. "I see here that you did indeed have some odd side effects from Arimidex and also from the Tamoxifen." I talked to her about the effects of the medications and how they made me feel. I don't know why I was so surprised when she jerked forward in her chair at my statement that I'd decided not to take any more cancer medications. "I really think you need to reconsider your decision," she said. "Since your cancer traveled to your lymph system and it's fed by Estrogen and Progesterone, it's very important that you take that medication to keep the cancer at bay." My reply stunned her. I said, "Dr. S., I know you have to speak to me from a medical standpoint but I am trusting that my God is taking care of all that. I've prayed about it and talked with my husband about it and my decision is final. I've decided to change my diet drastically and do all I can to live a good and healthy life." She came back with, "when do you see Dr. F?" I told her I'd see him the end of March. "Well, when you do, please talk to him about this and listen to what he has to say." "Okay doc," I said, "I'll listen but I don't think he'll change my mind."

She had me lie back on the examination table and began poking and prodding me. She slowly and deliberately moved over each of my incisions stopping occasionally when she felt something questionable. She felt under my armpits and mushed around on my belly asking if "that hurt." I wanted to say, "well of course it does! You're pressing really hard," but I didn't. Next she had me sit up and she listened to my lungs, looked in my ears and throat, felt all the lymph glands in the back and sides of my neck and then felt along my arms. She asked about the swelling and asked what seemed to exacerbate it. I answered her questions then she returned to the computer and began typing.

While she typed away, I asked her a question. "Doc, when will I ever be declared N.E.D.?" (that means no evidence of disease in case you don't know) She looked up from the screen and said, "You've been in remission since your cancer was removed but we can't say definitely N.E.D just yet." (According to the American Cancer Society, remission means the cancer is responding well to treatment and not spreading.) I asked her why I hadn't had a P.E.T. scan yet (that stands for positron emission tomography.) She said there had been many recent studies showing that after breast cancer, it was not wise to administer a P.E.T. scan unless absolutely necessary because of the amount of radiation emitted. People who'd undergone radiation therapy were at greater risk and that's why I wasn't going to receive one now. A P.E.T.scan is an imaging test that helps reveal how your tissues and organs are functioning. A PET scan uses a radioactive drug (tracer) to show this activity and it illuminates any cancer cells that remain in the body. "So, without a P.E.T. scan, we can't really know whether I'm free of cancer or not, correct?" The doctor answered, "correct. But, if there ever are any new lumps, bumps or places of concern, you can be sure that I will be the first one to order a P.E.T. scan for you." I was pretty satisfied with that answer although I know in my heart that I'm already cancer free because of my faith in God.

As I was slipping out of my gown and putting back on my clothes, I could hear Dr. "S" outside my door talking with the nurse...."she's decided not to take any medication....don't understand...Arimidex...just don't get it...." Those were the only words I could make out but there were many others in between. I can only guess what they were but I'm sure they didn't understand the choice I'd made.

I should have known Dr. "S" would give me grief over my decision. Medical doctors have a hard time accepting faith and miracles unless they are believers themselves. I wish I knew where Dr. "S" stood in her belief system. I may just ask her next time I'm there. I do know many family and friends just can't understand my decision not to take the meds but I know my body best. I have to do what I feel God leading me to do no matter if people look at me like I'm crazy or don't agree with me.

I used to work for doctors and in fact, I wanted to go into the medical field when I was in high school. I loved and still love medicine. It's fascinating to me. But doctors and medication don't have anything on the Great Physician. He's the one who made me and He's the one I trust. At my next visit, which will be in 3 months, I'm hoping Dr. "S" will continue to be baffled and give me an opportunity to talk with her once again about God. Who knows, maybe I'll get to witness to every single one of my medical team before it's over and maybe they'll come to realize what I already know, that God's ways are not man's ways. Proverbs 3:4-6 says, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Lean NOT unto thine own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths."

I'm trusting in Him with all my heart. I don't understand anything about this cancer journey except He allowed me to go through it. I am choosing to follow His leading and do what He says. The ones who have trouble understanding can just continue to be bewildered. This is between me and God.

© bonnie annis all rights reserved

Zapping is a thing of the past!

This morning, I woke up early and jumped into the shower. I was so excited to know that this would be my very last day of radiation treatments. I dried off, got dress, and quickly blew my hair dry. It was going to be a great day! I donned my makeup and tiptoed into the living room. Laura, my daughter, and Heather, my granddaughter were still sleeping....or so I thought. I was surprised to see them already awake.

I made some waffles for Laura and I as she fed the baby her oatmeal. We enjoyed our breakfast and some light morning conversation before it was time for me to leave for the clinic. Happily, I waved goodbye and headed out.

As I was driving to the clinic, I was overcome with emotion. Yes, I was ecstatic that this was the last time I'd ever have to lie underneath that ugly, monstrous linear accelerator while it shot beams of radiation into my body but, I wasn't prepared for the next set of emotions that overtook me as I drove on. Suddenly, I felt fear. How was I going to deal with not having the routine of daily treatments? How was I going to feel without that "special attention" that the nurses and radiation therapist had been giving me for the past 7 weeks? They had become my new friends and now, I wasn't going to see them any longer. I wasn't going to have anyone to talk to during the day on a face to face basis. That was going to be an adjustment. Then I began to feel sad. I was sad to know that I'd be alone again. I was also feeling apprehensive. Now that radiation was over, I would move into the next phase of treatment which meant spending time with the oncologist. That would mean regular visits for blood work and PET scans. When would it ever end?

I arrived at the clinic and saw the daily newspaper laying on the coffee table in the waiting room. I picked it up and looked inside. There inside the front section was a huge article that had been written about me! I had talked with a journalist last week and he'd interviewed me for an article in the October community section of the paper. They were doing a series on breast cancer patients. After reading the article, I noticed several errors but it was too late to worry about those now that the article was in print. Taking the paper up to the receptionist's window, I checked in and asked if they'd seen the paper this morning. The receptionist and her coworker replied they had not seen the paper, so I handed it to them. I told them to look on page 6 and they'd see an article about me. It was fun to watch them as they read it.

When it was time for me to go back for my treatments, every single member of the staff congratulated me for this being my last treatment day. They were genuinely happy for me and each of them gave me a hug as I passed by. I felt like a celebrity!

Lying underneath the "big stink eye" as I liked to called the linear accelerator, I counted off the seconds for each section of my treatment. For some reason, the treatment seemed to go by faster than normal today and I was so happy! Before I knew it, the techs had come into the room and told me I was all done. Three sweet ladies told me they'd miss me and that they hoped I'd do well with the rest of my treatments. The nurse called me into a room and went over my aftercare instructions and set up a followup appointment. Then she handed me my "graduation" certificate.

As I walked out of the office, my heart was light. Finally, I'd finished this phase of my journey. Robotically, I got back into my car and drove home. As I drove, I created a mental check list: surgery, check. Recovery, check. Radiation, check. Healing...still working on it. Anti hormone therapy...still to come. Oncologist, 2 weeks. Radiation Oncologist 3 weeks. Breast Surgeon, 7 weeks...appointments, appointments, appointments. Test, and more test...when will this every truly be over??? I don't know. I would imagine I'll be following up with someone or other for the next year or so and then...what happens after that?

I was making my brain tired so I had to stop thinking. Let's back up and just take one moment at a time...that's about all I can handle well at this juncture anyway. So, I looked down at my feet and realized that I was in the car on my way home. That was a good place to be...going somewhere I knew well...the place where I was most loved...home...where I could feel safe and cared for...home. That's when I realized that old saying, "there's no place like home" is so very true...and I could hardly wait to get there! And that's when Matthew 6:34 popped into my head "So don't worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today's trouble is enough for today." Yep. Just focus on today...right now...right where I am. That's enough, yep...that's plenty.


©bonnie annis all rights reserved