That four letter word--hope

The last week and a half turned into quite the roller coaster ride. Megan's regular medical oncologist essentially told us that he could not cure her and he didn't know anyone who could. Not new news, but we still left feeling heartbroken and devastated. That very night she would up in the e.r. with another partial bowel obstruction. Oh the conversations one can have with a daughter in the e.r...

Fast forward one week--we meet with her gynecological oncologist (surgeon). I was very straight and to the point: we have not been getting answers that we like; we have the means and can and will go anywhere and meet with anyone who might give us a chance; is this the best place and does anyone here have a plan? She looked at the chart, the ct scan results and told us there are reasons for cautious optimism. She doesn't have a silver bullet but she thinks it is reasonable to find out what is going on. Is is cancer causing the obstructions? Probably--but we don't know that for sure. So her suggestions were twofold (almost threefold): 1)needle asperation to access the liquid in Megan's stomach for signs of cancer cells; if cancer is present, proceed with chemotherapy or 2) laproscopic surgery to see what is going on; if it is scar tissue that is causing the obstruction proceed with more invasive procedure to fix the problem; if it is a tumor that is localized, proceed with more invasive surgery to remove it and start chemotherapy; if the tumor is not localized, proceed with chemotherapy without additional invasive surgery. All in all, we felt like there is hope--like there is someone who thinks this might work.

It is Megan's decision. The needle asperation scares the daylight out of her. But it surely seems alot less risky. And we can still get valuable information. Of course, if she wants the surgery, we will support that decision too. Let the mulling begin...

Tonight may we all drink a toast to hope--a four letter word that doesn't get used enough. And may we also say a prayer of thanksgiving for those who can give hope in the most hellish of times.

Defining and redefining our lives

Good news comes in unexpected forms--like finding out that the lump one's daughter finds is really a rib. After teasing her about the difference between tumors and ribs, we are breathing a sigh of relief.

I know that once someone you love has a cancer diagnosis, everything--and I do mean everything--seems to exist in terms of the disease. "We went on that trip in the spring of 2005--that was before cancer." Or "That was the first Christmas with cancer." Or "I don't think we've done anything like that since cancer."

I'm hoping that with increasing good news our lives will not be defined strictly in terms of the disease. I think if we allow our lives to be restricted by something like cancer--then cancer wins. I'd like to think we can beat this disease on some, if not every, level.