Sunday, January 19, 2025. It’s been a helluva start to the new year.
On December 18, I had an office visit with Dr. Rugo to discuss the results of my chest CT scan. We were optimistic about the visit since the preliminary radiology report was overall positive, as I reported in my last post “Happy Holidays.” Our expectation was we would schedule another Chest CT in a couple months to keep an eye on things. You can imagine our surprise when Rugo started talking about the slow growth in my right paratracheal lymph node, as well as the right axillary node, and what our best next steps should be. It was like my brain hit the brakes and was shouting, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a minute. What?” Steve and I didn’t say anything. We just sat there listening in stunned silence.
Okay. So what now? Well, here’s the thing. The paratracheal node is the most concerning as it could eventually cause breathing issues. We definitely do not want that. After a short discussion it was agreed that focal radiation would likely be my best option. An appointment was set to talk with my radiation oncologist the first full week in January. That would give him time to review the CT scan and confirm focal radiation is doable. As for the axillary node, we’ll address that once I’ve finished and my body has recovered from the radiation. The good news is that Rugo said we have lots of options.
Even though it wasn’t what we had anticipated going in, we headed home feeling good that we had a plan of action. Yes, we’d hit a road bump, but treatment was going to happen quickly.
Then a day or two before Christmas Steve and I both got the seasonal flu. Or so we thought. The nonstop coughing throughout the night was bad enough that we slept in separate rooms. By the time of my video visit with the radiation oncologist on January 6, we seemed to be feeling better.
It was a good visit. Dr. Braunstein was very confident about successfully treating the paratracheal node. An appointment was quickly set for January 14 for radiation mapping. My first treatment was scheduled for January 27 and will be repeated every day for five days.
A day or two after the video visit, it seemed like all I was doing was blowing my nose and coughing up a lot of gunk. I began to worry I would not be well enough to make the 3-hour drive to San Francisco on the 14th. The Saturday before my appointment, I called my doctor’s office. They had me come to the office right then to test for COVID, and make sure it wasn’t pneumonia. The COVID test was done in the parking lot. I was beyond relieved when it came back negative. I then went inside and met with the on-call doctor. He listened to my lungs and did the usual tests. You know…oxygen, blood pressure, heart rate. He also did another swab test for COVID, a couple of flues and RSV. He gave me orders for a chest X-ray and bloodwork which I had done that day at our local hospital. He said the swab test results would take a couple hours, and he would call me.
Within an hour of getting home, my cell phone rang. The doctor said he had the results and I was positive for COVID. What????? You’re kidding. You’re not kidding. Shit! That meant Steve had COVID, too. The doctor went onto say he thought it was old COVID (older than 10 days) because the antigen test came back negative, so I was not contagious. That made sense, because by then I/we had been sick for three weeks. I asked if he thought I should reschedule the mapping with UCSF. He advised me to call them first thing Monday. Which I did. As long as I wore a mask, they wanted me to still come down.
So…that’s how 2025 kicked off. There were fireworks all right, but they were the internal, messy, mind-blowing kind. And we are not exactly celebrating yet. I drive down next Sunday and will stay in San Francisco until Friday. My next chest CT scan is set for March 18. Sometime after that we’ll make a decision about treating the axillary node. And the band played on.
On another note. Northern California seems like a long way from our neighbors in southern California suffering all the horrible devastation from the fires. I mourn for everything that’s been lost—structures, irreplaceable artwork, musical works, iconic and historical landmarks, livelihoods. Most of all my heart breaks for those who lost their lives in such a horrific way..including pets and wildlife. It’s impossible to wrap my brain around the enormity of it all. Feeling helpless, I continue to count my blessings every day. Grateful I’m still here. Even more grateful you’re still here.
Watch out for each other. Love everyone and forgive everyone, including yourself. Forgive your anger. Forgive your guilt. Your shame. Your sadness. Embrace and open up your love, your joy, your truth, and most especially your heart. —Jim Henson
lana has cancer 