So far, So Good? Right?

The difference between an optimist and a pessimist? An optimist laughs to forget, but a pessimist forgets to laugh.—Tom Bodett

Photo by Anton on Unsplash

In the last entry, I talked about having a seizure that happened in October 2022. It put me in the hospital overnight in Peoria, Illinois. There’s an old vaudeville question: Will it play in Peoria? I think that is what made it famous. It certainly wasn’t me.

When I returned home, I made appointments to see my neurologist, primary care doctor, pulmonologist, and radiologist. I also had a CT and another MRI scheduled.

The CT scan was to check on my right lung which the last two scans had shown some areas of concern. There were whitish patches that the medical establishment refers to as “ground glass.” That is the layman’s term and sounds like not a good thing to have sitting in the part of your body required for breathing. My oncologist, MacDuff, and the scan analysis doctors kept scratching their heads. They said it doesn’t “look like cancer” so they don’t “think” it is. How “reassuring.”

After the scan, MacDuff decided I needed to get my pulmonologist’s opinion. Whatever Lung Guy decided I should do would be the next step. MacDuff said, “I’m the cancer guy. If it’s that, I know what to do, but I’m not an expert on the lungs alone. He will have more insight about this. But, you look good otherwise!” Well, gee, thanks for that!

Next I saw Lung Guy. He studied the scan for a bit and showed me what the “ground glass” looks like in my right lung. It’s weird that the left side is a big dark space. Well, of course, that lung is gone. He tells me that there is one area at the bottom that has him concerned because it’s bigger than the other “glassy” spots. Terrific. Is it cancer? “No one can predict what cancer will do.” Yay, more less than encouraging reassurance. “This could be an infection.” I asked him what that area looked like on the last scan. Has that spot gotten larger? He looked at the previous scan. There was no “glass” in that area. What the hell? He recommended another scan in eight weeks, which MacDuff had already scheduled. “Let’s wait and see what it looks like then. If it’s growing, I’ll do a needle biopsy through your back because I can’t get there with an endoscope.” That’s good news, I guess. Having a scope and needle jabbed in the back is far more preferable than having it jammed down the gullet with the egg beater needle.

I was feeling discouraged and worried. Then Dr. Lung asked, “Are you coughing a lot?” No, not much at all. “When you do cough, are you coughing up any loogies?” (Okay, he said phlegm, but loogies is funnier.) My answer was no. “Are you wheezing, getting out of breath?” Well, I haven’t been running any marathons, but no. “Look, if you were telling me you aren’t feeling well and having trouble breathing, I would be far more concerned. You’re looking good!” 

The following day I had an MRI and dropped off the CD of the MRI I had while in the Peoria hospital. The location for my local MRIs had changed as the old facility was no longer doing it. The new place was much more pleasant with easier access. The prior one you entered through the front door and then had to walk a quarter of a mile to the opposite side of the building. Then get on an elevator that took you to the basement. This is where the MRI was and perhaps the morgue? I rarely ever saw anyone in that area. I mused you could easily disappear in this dungeon with your withered carcass being discovered years later. 

The new place had a better selection of music, which they seem to think will take your mind off of the THUMP-THUMP-RRRNNG of the MRI. It had Sirius! I was going to ask for the Broadway channel, but decided to go with Classical. If it’s a show I know, I might be compelled to sing along and air dance. They strapped my head down and put the headphones on. Ahh, it’s Sibelius. Symphony #2, I think? Or, maybe it’s…THUMP-THUMP-RRRNNG. For a few minutes, I tried to concentrate on the music, but Sibelius was not keeping up with the beat. 

With all of my treatments I have used guided imagery and meditation. It has helped tremendously. So, I took a tour of the tumor bar in my brain where those cancer cells had thrived. As I walked in, I noticed the place was smaller. No dance floor. No karaoke stage. The bar was dusty and cancer cell bodies were strewn about. It looked like a scene from The Walking Dead. As a fan, I know you can’t trust anything that looks like it’s dead. It’s not. I took out my trusty butcher knife and plunged it into the skull of each cancer cell.

A few days later I saw the radiologist, Brain Guy. I told him about the seizure and that I was now on anti-seizure medication. He showed me the MRI from earlier in the week and compared it with my first MRI. When the tumor was alive, there was lots of inflammation. Now, there is none. The tumor is still there, but it’s continuing to shrink. No zombie cancer cells trying to revive. Of course not, I took care of them! He pointed to the upper left lobe and said that is where any seizure activity would register. “It’s clear. I can’t tell you what may have caused the seizure, but you’ve been through a lot in the last year.” He looked at my husband and said, “She’s a trooper.” 

Two doctors say I’m looking good and the third says I’m a trooper. That’s me. A good looking trooper! I’ll take it. 

Brain Guy said that normally at this point he would be recommending I have an MRI every six months, but with the seizure he decides I should have another one in a couple of months. Just to be safe. I mention the issues with my right lung. I don’t know why, but I was in a sharing mood. He nods in agreement with Lung Guy’s assessment and added, “You know we are seeing the ‘ground glass’ issue in a lot of COVID patients and even in those that are asymptomatic.” I did have a cold during the summer, but didn’t get tested because I had no other COVID symptoms. I also had two COVID vaccinations prior to the cold. The first CT scan with the “ground glass” was after that cold. Perhaps I had a breakthrough case of COVID?

Brain Guy’s last comment to me, “Brain good.” I know there are many that have a contrary opinion about that, but now I had medical confirmation. Brain good! I was not abi-normal! Then, anyway.