After reading all the comments and messages, I realized that if I could be physically cured by good thoughts, prayers, healing energy, and love, I would be done with cancer by now. If only things worked that way. But it’s not like all has been for naught: Kindness is a currency that has kept me afloat through six long and often disappointing years. It’s given me strength when I needed it and seen me through some dark times. It’s been especially illuminating this past year. For all the bad luck I’ve had healthwise, I’ve received good things tenfold back from my friends and can never feel unlucky in that respect, at least. Thank you all for reaching out.
I’m still pretty sick. They’ve balanced out my electrolytes pretty well and I’m currently getting a blood transfusion to boost my hemoglobin. I was hoping this would give me some goth cred, but I’ve always been too goofy to be a real goth. A friend recently who knew me in the early aughts declared me a “fashion goth.” I have to agree. Drinking blood=cute; eating souls=not cute. Velvet in winter=chic; leather in summer=too hot, just wear a band T-shirt. Anyway. I’m getting blood and my great-grandfather is from Transylvania so that’s cool enough for me.
I still haven’t had much relief from most of my other symptoms, and I’m hoping the end of antibiotics will help but I am losing hope. The treatment last time worked instantaneously. However, I asked about the uptake scan performed after yesterday’s procedure and it looks like uptake of the radioactive polypeptides. (A refresher: The tumors have somatostatin receptors, so radioactive peptides are injected into the blood. The tumors accept the gift from the bloodstream, but it’s a Trojan Horse, because then it delivers a high dose of radiation directly to the hormone-producing cell.)
Today I have been tired. I worked on things, and had several visitors, including a former stem-cell inmate, who brought me important periodicals! (And some strength from a strong cancer survivor.) My catgodmother stopped by on her way to stay with the cats, and several other friends stopped by with cookies, Goldfish crackers, and a Super Grover.
I have a lot of big decisions to make and a lot of things to wrap up, from how long I’d like to and could stay here in New York to rehoming the beloved cat trio.
I had a CT scan slated from 7-8 pm so I missed dinner. While I was awaiting my CT scan downstairs, however, I got a powerful liver cramp. My right clavicle started hurting as well. After the initial scans, there was a long pause, I expected the scan readers being so horrified by what was going on, they would stop and tell me, as I suspected, that my liver was exploding. Even pancreatitis hadn’t hurt this much.
They were just waiting for the IV nurse to inject contrast, as it turns out. “Are you seeing anything crazy?” I asked the CT person. After finishing the scan, I went back up to the room and that’s when the cramps started again in earnest. I called my new night nurse. By this time, I was gasping for air because the cramps hurt so much. As it became harder to breathe, I recognized the old symptoms of panic attack had arrived too. Just what I needed. So in addition to the cramps and shortness of breath, my face was inexplicably going numb and I couldn’t breathe. I explained I was now having pain and a panic attack, and the nurse turned on the oxygen to make me feel better as we waited. I hate dramatics, but shifted and whimpered. Everything hurt and on top of it all, I felt stupid with my completely unhelpful panic attack. I apologized and suggested Ativan.
After the Ativan and dilaudid, I slept.
Someone from the morning doctor team came in. There could be a spot where they embolized last week that’s super infected. The antibiotics at least are staving off further infection. I am here at least until Friday, maybe Saturday.
I know when I had cramps in my abdomen, pelvis, and shoulder, I’d hoped it was the pesky tumor-producing hormones dying. I wanted them to be accepting their peptides and explode and leave me alone. I haven’t seen much improvement after the PRRT, and I’m so disappointed. I’m hoping with all my might that it’s the antibiotics that are messing with my guts. Either way, it appears I need a bit of time to wrap up my life. Updates coming soon.
P.S. My room is freezing and the temperature drops by a degree every 12 hours. Facilities say they are looking into it, but it progressively gets colder, and I’m currently under about 10 thin blankets, which appears to be the solution right now. I’m hoping they move me to the private fancy floor if they can’t move me elsewhere. I’m so cold.