We came to find that the part of my leg that they removed contained cancer cells after all. They're not sure if it was cancer all along and they just didn't have a large enough sample with the first scrap to be able to see that. It's also possible that it spread there sometime before starting the new treatment or even during, but there's no way of knowing. At least they're pretty confident that they got it all out if this spot so we have to find comfort in that.
I've somehow managed to land myself in the ER twice within six days. Until now, I have only been taken to an ER one other time in my life. I was about four when I slammed one of my chunky little fingers in the sliding closet door of my room. I hurried to my room to grab shoes so that I could ride my tricycle around the driveway and that's when it happened. Almost 20 years later went by without another trip. I find myself to be making a habit of it these days.
My oncologist told me time and time again that if I felt the slightest bit faint or had difficulty breathing, that I should go to an ER right away. I was in a crowd when my vision completely disappeared, which is what brought me there the first time. I could walk and talk but totally lost my sight for about two minutes, but it was probably the most nerve-racking two minutes of my life. You want nothing more than to believe that it's nothing, but we had to go anyways to be certain. After an EKG and some fluids, they said that it must have been just a combination of the summer heat, dehydration and low blood pressure that caused me to have that episode.
It was the day after my fourth infusion of this new medicine that I started feeling pretty off. I woke up extremely short of breath and couldn't keep up with my usual routine. I was walking on the treadmill at the gym when it felt like my chest was going to explode. I think back to before all of this started happening when I would go straight to the gym after work to fit an hour of cardio in before bed. I would run and do that stupid stair master, a machine I will never quite understand but continued to do religiously. These days I'm struggling to drag my feet for a 30 minute stroll in without having to stop every other second to take a rest. I went about my day, but breathing didn't seem to be getting any easier. My mom urged me to email my doctor just to make sure that this was another side effect. I didn't realize that he was still out of town until one of his assistants called me within minutes of sending the email. She instructed me to head to the hospital right away. One minute, I was figuring out how I was going to spend my Friday night out with friends and the next I was describing my pain levels on a scale of 1 to 10. Those carefree days seemed so far behind, IVs and those heinous backless gowns would become the norm. They did an EKG within moments of checking in. Another one of my oncologist's assistants came in to see what was going on. I hadn't seen her since I started my new treatment so she wanted to check out my tumors. Her eyes filled with tears when she felt that nothing was there. Over the next few hours, they took blood, a CT scan and chest x-rays before releasing me. They had to be sure that the shortness of breath wasn't caused by a blood clot in my chest or inflammation of the lungs, cause apparently that kind of stuff has happened with this medicine. Again, they told me it was probably just side effects.
My oncologist arranged for us to meet with him as soon as he returned from his trip. He had heard that I was sent to the ER and wanted to learn more about the things I was experiencing. Since my thyroid levels had been way off since progressing with the treatment, he thought that maybe other things in a similar sort were acting up too. To him, it sounded like maybe my pituitary gland was enlarged, causing what they had been calling side effects. They scheduled me for a brain MRI right away on what would have been my grandmother's birthday. Another Friday night spent at Glenbrook Hospital, that would now be two in a row. Spending time with my friends and feeling 23 was what I missed in times like these. I was lucky to be able to have so many co-workers at my old job who were my age, we had all became friends pretty quickly. Lunch breaks with them and company happy hours would become a thing of the past, the hospital staff was who I got to see most of now.
The majority of my MRI was spent begging my grandmother to work some magic from Heaven. With it being her birthday and all, I thought I would have a little more luck on my side. I would go home and spend the weekend trying to keep the MRI off of my mind until I received a call from my oncologist Sunday afternoon. He explained that I had experienced the blackout with my vision, because there was a mass of malignant cells on my occipital lobe. Not my brain now too. I would have to meet with neuro and radiation oncologists now to discuss what type of procedure I could have done to remove it. With my original melanoma located on my head, I had been concerned about it attacking the brain all along, but they had always assured me that it wouldn't go anywhere near my brain. In previous tests, I was at least clear there, which I had found to be a huge relief. This time was different and I panicked a little more than the other times. I thought that after I got over the initial shock of the diagnosis it would only get easier from there. Then, I found out that it had come back and I was more afraid than I was after the first diagnosis. I sit here now, with the cancer already have metastasized to several places and don't know what to think. My doctor tells me not to worry, that we will stick to the treatment plan. We keep saying "well, it can only go up from here," but are still waiting for it to work out that way.
I've somehow managed to land myself in the ER twice within six days. Until now, I have only been taken to an ER one other time in my life. I was about four when I slammed one of my chunky little fingers in the sliding closet door of my room. I hurried to my room to grab shoes so that I could ride my tricycle around the driveway and that's when it happened. Almost 20 years later went by without another trip. I find myself to be making a habit of it these days.
My oncologist told me time and time again that if I felt the slightest bit faint or had difficulty breathing, that I should go to an ER right away. I was in a crowd when my vision completely disappeared, which is what brought me there the first time. I could walk and talk but totally lost my sight for about two minutes, but it was probably the most nerve-racking two minutes of my life. You want nothing more than to believe that it's nothing, but we had to go anyways to be certain. After an EKG and some fluids, they said that it must have been just a combination of the summer heat, dehydration and low blood pressure that caused me to have that episode.
It was the day after my fourth infusion of this new medicine that I started feeling pretty off. I woke up extremely short of breath and couldn't keep up with my usual routine. I was walking on the treadmill at the gym when it felt like my chest was going to explode. I think back to before all of this started happening when I would go straight to the gym after work to fit an hour of cardio in before bed. I would run and do that stupid stair master, a machine I will never quite understand but continued to do religiously. These days I'm struggling to drag my feet for a 30 minute stroll in without having to stop every other second to take a rest. I went about my day, but breathing didn't seem to be getting any easier. My mom urged me to email my doctor just to make sure that this was another side effect. I didn't realize that he was still out of town until one of his assistants called me within minutes of sending the email. She instructed me to head to the hospital right away. One minute, I was figuring out how I was going to spend my Friday night out with friends and the next I was describing my pain levels on a scale of 1 to 10. Those carefree days seemed so far behind, IVs and those heinous backless gowns would become the norm. They did an EKG within moments of checking in. Another one of my oncologist's assistants came in to see what was going on. I hadn't seen her since I started my new treatment so she wanted to check out my tumors. Her eyes filled with tears when she felt that nothing was there. Over the next few hours, they took blood, a CT scan and chest x-rays before releasing me. They had to be sure that the shortness of breath wasn't caused by a blood clot in my chest or inflammation of the lungs, cause apparently that kind of stuff has happened with this medicine. Again, they told me it was probably just side effects.
My oncologist arranged for us to meet with him as soon as he returned from his trip. He had heard that I was sent to the ER and wanted to learn more about the things I was experiencing. Since my thyroid levels had been way off since progressing with the treatment, he thought that maybe other things in a similar sort were acting up too. To him, it sounded like maybe my pituitary gland was enlarged, causing what they had been calling side effects. They scheduled me for a brain MRI right away on what would have been my grandmother's birthday. Another Friday night spent at Glenbrook Hospital, that would now be two in a row. Spending time with my friends and feeling 23 was what I missed in times like these. I was lucky to be able to have so many co-workers at my old job who were my age, we had all became friends pretty quickly. Lunch breaks with them and company happy hours would become a thing of the past, the hospital staff was who I got to see most of now.
The majority of my MRI was spent begging my grandmother to work some magic from Heaven. With it being her birthday and all, I thought I would have a little more luck on my side. I would go home and spend the weekend trying to keep the MRI off of my mind until I received a call from my oncologist Sunday afternoon. He explained that I had experienced the blackout with my vision, because there was a mass of malignant cells on my occipital lobe. Not my brain now too. I would have to meet with neuro and radiation oncologists now to discuss what type of procedure I could have done to remove it. With my original melanoma located on my head, I had been concerned about it attacking the brain all along, but they had always assured me that it wouldn't go anywhere near my brain. In previous tests, I was at least clear there, which I had found to be a huge relief. This time was different and I panicked a little more than the other times. I thought that after I got over the initial shock of the diagnosis it would only get easier from there. Then, I found out that it had come back and I was more afraid than I was after the first diagnosis. I sit here now, with the cancer already have metastasized to several places and don't know what to think. My doctor tells me not to worry, that we will stick to the treatment plan. We keep saying "well, it can only go up from here," but are still waiting for it to work out that way.