Gotta keep fighting

I've been sitting in front of this computer screen all morning. I'm having difficulty finding the right words. My fingers type out a few sentences, but nothing is coming out right. Type. Delete. Type. Delete. How do I convey all the emotions of it? How do I share our experiences so that others might understand? How do I explain the seriousness of it all without making it sound all gloom and doom? How do I express our determination and our hopes without minimizing what we are dealing with?

E. walks by and rolls his eyes at me, wondering what is possibly taking me so long. "Want me to do it?" he asks.

"There's more cancer. Gotta keep fighting." Done. All in E.'s words.

If you're like me though, that doesn't tell enough of the story. For those of you that want more, here it goes . . .

On Wednesday, we received a message that we had an appointment with the medical oncologist the following morning. It wasn't tough to figure out how the biopsy results came back since we were meeting with the oncologist and not the surgeon. While we knew this was a distinct possibility, it still came as a blow. It was a huge let-down, a major disappointment. All the possible 'what if' scenarios raced through our minds which can be a tad bit overwhelming as you might imagine.

By the time we met with the doctor though, we were ready to fight again. Ready to face the latest challenges head-on. Ready to do what needs to be done.

There is no beating around the bush with these doctors. They lay it out there. At the same time though, they are not discouraged or discouraging. Dr. A. showed us the results of E.'s latest PET/CT scan on the computer. The injected radioactive glucose is taken up by cancer cells (which are rapidly dividing cells and need energy for growth) and shows up as a yellow/gold color on the scan. Red = good; yellow = bad. The lymph node by his right clavicle glowed yellow like a beacon in the night. Why this didn't show up or was never seen on the PET/CT done in Reno we do not know. It was pretty tough to miss, even for two folks who had never even seen a PET before. There was also speckles of yellow in the radiated area of the originating tumor. AND yellow in the polyps in the stomach. All cancer.

The doctor explained that the big issue is that E. has already had chemotherapy and radiation, and he still has cancer. Specifically, he still has cancer where the radiation was given. Because the cancer survived the chemotherapy and radiation, it was described as a "tough" cancer. Technically, one would think, "Why can't you just remove the esophagus, the stomach and the cancerous lymph nodes?" Dr. A. explained . . . Because the cancer went to the shoulder region, it knows how to travel. We don't know if it is anywhere else, but we have to assume it is. If E. were to undergo this intensive surgery, it would take a long while for him to recover and during that recovery, the cancer could grow and spread. His weakened body wouldn't be able to fight off the cancer or handle the chemotherapy drugs. So, surgery could actually make things worse at this point.

At the recommendation of his team at MD Anderson, E. now faces a new chemotherapy protocol of four different drugs. We'll meet with the local oncologist in Reno and E. will hopefully be able to get all his treatment in Reno, where he can sleep in his own bed every night. E.'s then scheduled to go back to MD Anderson at the beginning of September for PET/CT scans to see if the selected treatment is working.

I guess E.'s words really did summarize it all . . . There's more cancer. Gotta keep fighting.

S.