Buffalo Cheese and CT Scan Results

Yesterday I was craving fresh (in water) buffalo mozzarella balls. So, I get Zsolt to drive me to the grocery store – where they have big buffalo mozzarella balls in water. I also picked up some chips. We get to the cash and neither Zsolt or I have our wallets! Not a penny on us! BAH!

I threw a little hissy fit of frustration, and then we hop back into the car and go back to the house – pick up the wallets – and head to a closer grocery shop (Sobeys).

So we go to Sobeys, except they don’t have buffalo mozzarella balls. They have cow milk, but that is not what I was craving. I love that sweet flavour with the buffalo. However, the chips here were on sale, so I pick them up and saved us a few bucks.

THEN we decide to go to Farmboy. Into the car we hop and cruise down the strip to the shop. In the shop I go. OH, one last package of fresh buffalo mozzarella cheese balls. We grab ‘em and check out.

I get home, ready to dive in, when I see the seal isn’t sealed. The damn package was already opened! Not cool. (And I’m really starting to lose it – getting really pissed off.)

Back into the car, and back out – this time to a different Farmboy, since the last one only had one product left, which I bought and now wanted to exchange. So we go to the different Farmboy, and I grab their last package of buffalo mozzarella balls (checking the seal), and exchange the cheese.

FINALLY we get home, I take out some balls, and collapse in front of my computer to watch a show. Sweet, cheesy, salty bliss.

“What can I learn from this?” I asked myself

If at first you don’t succeed, try-try again.

I think the same can be applied to cancer. No matter how frustrating, it is worth pushing for what you want. In my case, to try, try again.

And I can say this so easily, because today I received good news. Today I have NOT been crushed at the doctor’s office. The CT shows good results, considering I’ve only received 2 doses of a new chemo treatment. Good results considering the last treatment didn’t have great impact.

I’m very happy, with a tinge of bittersweet – I can go back to work, but will still get this chemo every three weeks. Upside is that it is easier to recover from compared to the previous approach, even if it is tiring (so I can live my life a bit more as I also destroy cancer).

The MEGA upside is that it may be having a GOOD effect on KILLING the cancer. That blows any bittersweet feelings out of the water. Die cancer, die! MUHAHAAHAHA!

I said to Dr. Canada, “I didn’t expected good results. I was feeling defensively pessimistic.”

He nodded his head. “I think that’s a reasonable approach. But I’m going to be optimistic for you.”

So I said “Okay, you stay optimistic for me.” And I very much appreciate it, indeed.

Today has brought a couple pieces of happy news – from a surprise with my novel, to a surprise with my results. Steady onward, and we’ll see what happens next.

Considering I thought this would be a most horrible week, it has turned out pretty well.

The end.

P.S. I love this picture made by my friend James. Check it out 🙂

Who doesn't want to be compared to Katherine Janeway?!

Who doesn’t want to be compared to Kathryn Janeway?!

What comes next? I don’t know.

Yesterday was one I’d like to forget forever. At about 6 AM, I woke up Zsolt with a hard cough. I woke up myself too! The cough, unfortunately, was very, very unhealthy. Like, get to the ER unhealthy. It was followed up by a kind of gurgling in my lungs.

Pretty fucking scary, I have to say. After a day in the ER at the General in Ottawa, with a few tests and a lot of waiting, plus a visit from various doctors, the reality was confirmed – one of my lung lobes had collapsed. The treatment I’m on isn’t working. Hasn’t been working for a while, and so the problems have been growing – most recently blocking one of the airways into a lung area, hence the collapse. And it’s time to jump ship to different options. This a point in the road I really didn’t want to reach. I didn’t want to get here. I don’t know how it will go down.

But I do love my life, and I love my work, and I hope this new treatment option – the scary C word,but considerably more light in dosing, plus possible radiation to the trouble making lung lobe blocker – will have the effect of pushing back the damn progression, because then I can carry on as I’d like. Apparently a range of doctors will be meeting to discuss my situation, and come up with a plan on how best to tackle this. In the meanwhile, I am breathing fine. The lung doc says I’m compensating remarkably well for the loss of the lobe.

Anyhow, it was a scary day. Perhaps even scarier for my husband, who was left alone after I’d passed out from panic at 6 AM and managed to get me the needed help – he laid me out safely and called 911.

My parents and he stayed with me all day in that small, quiet, and thankfully uneventful ER room. They were with me when I received the news of the progression and its ramifications, and they are with me in what needs to be done moving forward. Together I am certain we will make the best of this. I’m lucky for all of this love and support.

One day at a time, one challenge at a time.

But holy shit, life is fragile.