I have a text book cervix... and other fun ditties

In the midst of all this cancer stuff, I had to go in for my annual obgyn exam. My PA, Christie, asked me if I would allow a student from George Fox University to sit in on this exam. So, I told her that if this gal wanted to see me in all my exposed glory, then she deserved what she got.

As Christie was getting a sample from my cervix, she called the student over.

"Have you ever seen a cervix?"
"No, I haven't."
"Colleen, can she take a look?"
"Sure she can."
"Ok, this is what the cervix looks like."
"Wow, its just like the text book."
"Yes, it is. It's a text book cervix."

And so, another chapter in my life is written. Much like my nephew, Kevin, I have a text book cervix.

Tag, I'm it too!

Post the rules on your blog

*Write six random things about yourself
*Tag six-ish people at the end of your post
*Let each person know he/she has been tagged
*Let the tagger know when your entry is up

Six Random Things About Myself
1. I like to tape peoples cell phones shut and then call them
2. I've owned two motorcycles
3. I've danced on the Vegas stage show of "Nudes on Ice"
4. I'm nude under my clothes
5. I used to play the trumpet for fun
6. I can imagine seeing my sister Lori flapping in a west coast storm like a wind sock because she chose to wear overalls

I tag Channi, Kathy, mommy, Lori, Barb, and Gloria and whoever else feels like doing this tag.

Butt Shots it is! No Chemo

I can't believe that I just did a whole column about my latest updates and then closed the browser window without saving! :( So, now I have to rest, make some puzzle, eat a piece of sugar-free german chocolate cake and start over again. I'll think I'll work on the easy part, leaving all the green vegitation for mom.

In short for now, no chemo, but will get monthly sandostatin shots for about a year. Carcinoid primary site may be surgically removed, we'll know more on 10/28/08 about that. I'll have this for the rest of my life, which is expected to be a long and fruitful one. The shots will make the carcinoids go inert, making them stable.

Later!

My Bossie Sister Lori and Auntie Susan....

...are making me update the blog when all I want is to luxuriate under my cat, who would be keeping me conveniently warm. But he'll be still there, whereas my auntie and sister will also be there, but won't be bugging me. So...

The Octreotide scan of last week was kind of funny. I had to lay on my back with my hands and arms folded above my head for up to 2.5 hours. Knowing that it would be difficult for me to hold that position, the good looking med tech (named Brent) asked me if I'd like him to wrap tape around my wrists together, to help keep them in place. I've had enough scans and have had to "hold a position" without help to know that I really needed the help. After all, how can I take a nap and hold my position? So, he wrapped tape around my wrists, when they were placed above my head. I also have a warm blanket covering me, which was very nice.

Brent was adjusting my position under the scanner, which I was laying under, when he said "can you show me your crotch area?" He needed to know where it was as a reference for the botton of the scan placement. Obliging him (not ogling him), I moved my bound hands down in the direction of my "crotch area", but couldn't reach over my tummy's summit, so I had to sit up (such as it was) to get over the tummy summit. All the while I was thinking, I can't wait to blog about how he wound my wrists up together and then asked me to show him my "crotch area" over my warm blankie. Task accomplished! And then I did nap, and it was A-OK. I went back the next day for an additional few scans and then I was done.

I had my second radiation treatment today, which went well. It took me 45 minutes to drive to and from the hospital (which is only 10 minutes away from where I work) and only 5 minutes to do the treatment. Go figure.

I'll continue these scans until October 20 (Monday), going in every morning. On this coming Friday, Mom and I will find out about the primary cancer site treatment. I believe I'll be getting chemo for about 6 months, based on the scenario where it isn't a carcinoid. When I was getting my Octreoscans, I could see the image forming and there wasn't a carcinoid in it. It will only show a carcinoid, not a small cell carcinoma.

I've been getting regular calls from Providence Cancer Care staff to check in on my well-being and to see if I have questions or need anything. Also, I will be getting an appointment soon with a nutritionist, who will go over my special needs diet during the chemo treatment (taking my diabetes into account).

Well, I need to retire to the couch to watch a movie. :)

I'm a tattoo'd hoochie-momma!!!

Today, I started radiation and my arm hurts. I'm not sure why. They had to give me three small pin sized tattoos around the spot that is being radiated. You would hardly be able to tell them apart from my old people dots. The procedure was painless, but my skin is slightly sore, like a sun burn and my arm just hurts, like I've been using it all day. So, this entry will be short tonight.

This coming Friday, mom and I will be going to see Dr. Patil to get the rest of the diagnosis and treatment. I'll write a lot more maybe tomorrow...

I'm going to sit now and be very quiet.

Butt Shots? Full-moon Gilberts... move over!

Yesterday, I went to my appointment with Dr. Patil, my primary Oncologist. Mom and Lori came also because I am their only entertainment. I had hoped that a definitive treatment plan would come out of this visit, but alas... That wasn't to be. Everything rides on the Octreotide scan being performed next Wednesday. This scan will definitively state whether my primary cancer is a carcinoid of the mesentery or a small cell tumor involving the bowel. Also, it will show if two possible spots on my pelvic bone are metastasized around the ilium.

There are three possible scenarios.

1) Small cell tumor in the primary would lend itself to radiation for my arm and about six months of aggressive chemo.

2) Carcinoid primary, pelvic bone involved; then radiation to my arm and possibly my pelvic bone. Surgery is possible, but not necessarily so. No Chemo, but a biological shot in the butt once a month for possibly 5 years.

3) Carcinoid primary, pelvic bone not involved; then radiation to my arm. Surgery to remove carcinoid in the mesentery. No Chemo, but a biological shot in the butt once a month for 2 - 3 years.

Dr. Patil told me that I'd eventually become bored with coming to his office.

Tomorrow morning (Sunday), I have an MRI scheduled at St. Vincent's of my whole left arm. This is being done to get the exact tumor location in my arm. It shouldn't take long after that to begin radiation on my arm. This is what I'm most looking forward to, because even writing today's blog is very painful.

I'm scheduled for a follow-up appointment with Dr. Patil on 10/10/08 to determine what the other course of treatment will be. The chances are really good that I will get no chemo, and therefore not lose my hair (much to everyone's disappointment). Mom will drive up for this appointment, but alas... Lori will be in Idaho. I will have to recount the dialogue in that appointment to Lori using interpretive dance. I may even through in a ribbon dance if it is specially good news!

Scans Amuck! And an additional diagnosis

This week has been full of scans, IVs, isotopes, "hold that position for 30 minutes...", "40 minutes...", "20 minutes...", "drink this tasty contrast smoothie", "oh, I found you, drink this second contrast smoothie", "yes, it's not a joke, finish the rest of this smoothie".

On Wednesday, I had a PET scan at St. Vincent's Hospital. I was only able to eat meat on Tuesday and nothing Wednesday before my 10:00 AM appointment. No medicine this morning. No Metformin (diabetes medicine) Tuesday evening. A smart tech doesn't try to put the IV into my right arm and goes straight for my hand. He put some isotopes in me and told me to take a nap with a warm blankie. About 30-40 minutes later, he came for me and we did the scans. The isotopes absorb into my cells, but absorb into cancerous cells faster and my cancer locations show up like Christmas lights in the resulting scan.

On Thursday, I didn't take my medicine again in the morning and didn't eat, which I would be glad for later. On this day, at Newberg Providence Hospital, I had an MRI of my head/brian and then a CT scan of my torso. Please don't ask which torso. :)

The gal insisted on putting an IV in my right arm vein, and in fact tried unsuccessfully to do this. She is the third person over the previous 3 or 4 IVs that has dug my arm apart. They decide to get another hot shot with a needle and this guy came down and was finally able to get a vein. They took MRI shots of my head, and then shot me full of some isotope stuff and shot up my head again. The gal then told me to get dressed and ask the receptionist in the imaging lobby for my contrast smoothie, which I would need for my CT scan.

I walked out to the lobby, and the smoothie gal giggled when she saw me, and before I could even ask her, she had sprung up to get me this scary contrast smoothie that was supposed to taste like berries. I asked her if it was nasty and she smiled and handed me a straw. I ended up gulping the 16 oz cup down and was glad when it was finally gone. I had been sitting doing a jigsaw puzzle in the lobby, waiting to be called for the CT scan and about 30 minutes after the first cup, she tracks me down and hands me my surprise second 16 oz cup of "tasty" smoothie. This time, I also drink it as quickly as possible and am glad that I haven't eaten yet. I was full of "tasty" smoothie and wasn't amused. About 30 minutes later, the CT tech gal came out for me, swinging the remainder of a bottle of "tasty" smoothie and I tell her that she must be joking. They all think they are funny there. I finish it off quickly, get dressed down again and lay still for the next 15 minutes. By far my least discomforting scan. At one point, the CT gal power-pushed another type of isotope-radiative stuff into my IV. As I was leaving, she informed me that I couldn't take my Metformin for another 48 hours. Will anything ever be normal again?

Today is Friday and this morning, mom, Lori and I went to see Dr. Hansen, my radiation oncologist at St. Vincent's. As we were waiting in the examining room, I commented that he was probably going to want to examine my forehead. He would ask me to get into the stirrups on the examining table and then he'd put on his long green arm sleeve. Later, when he was giving me a physical examination, he rolled his chair in front of mine and told me was going to start with my forehead and I started to giggle. He asked me if I was ticklish and I just said that we'd made a forehead joke earlier.

Dr. Hansen had received the scans done this week and the previous day had spoken with the Radialogist about the results. They have located my supposed primary cancer spot. There is a carcinoid about a quarter in diameter (I don't know how long) that is in the mesentary surrounding my intestines. The mesentary is the lining that holds my inner parts to my abdominal wall. No cancer in my brain, lungs, liver, kidneys or other major organ. That's a good thing. It might require a surgical removal, but that will be up to Dr. Patil.

Dr. Hansen wanted me to get an additional MRI of my whole left humorus bone so he would know exactly how much to radiate. He is also ordering an entirely new scan, the Octreotide scan, which is supposed to be more accurate than a PET, MRI or CT scan. These two scans will happen next week. Dr. Hansen will call me next week with the results. On Friday, Sept 26, I go to see Dr. Patil, my original oncologist, who will divulge what my primary cancer site treatment will be (I hope). Radiation will be 10 treatments over 2 weeks, but won't start for about 2 more weeks.

At this point, I have no idea about anything else. I didn't expect to be told any results today, but everyone seemed pleased with them and we celebrated with breakfast at Denny's. Then I went back to work. I'm tired of people digging for veins that delight in hiding, holding still in painful positions for untold minutes, and of fasting and not taking my meds. But at least the doctor didn't green arm me to examine my forehead.