marfa, tx: Thunderbird Hotel
A few months ago, John and I flew to El Paso and rented a car to meet the Forsythe clan in Marfa, TX for a surprise 60th birthday weekend for his mom, Pat. The weather was crisp, cool and clear, Pat was surprised, and we all had a great, relaxing weekend. I can’t wait to go back; I feel like there’s so much more to enjoy in this tiny town.
We stayed at the Thunderbird Hotel, which I highly recommend. Desert modern, minimalist, utilitarian. GO. I insist. All the furniture is custom made, DIY-type stuff – metal pipes painted the loveliest deep shade of grey and big slabs of wood. It was too cold to take a dip in the pool (I should say “for smart folks” because John insisted, and immediately regretted, his dip.) :) but I bet it’s awesome in the height of summer!
Yeah. It’s awesome. Worth the trip just to appreciate the details. Stay tuned for more details from in & around Marfa.
Non Hodgkin Lymphoma, Round 2
Well, I can say with certainty that this is not how I planned to start off the new year. Check out my last post to read some of the background leading up to my annual checkup at the Stanford Cancer Center earlier this week. You can also read about my original battle with Non Hodgkin Lymphoma eight years ago.
NHL is a tricky thing – even with chemo and radiation, there’s no cure. You’re lucky to have a nice long remission, but it will almost always come back. And according to my latest checkup, it has. They call that recurrence. It’s not the best news, but it’s also not the worst news. I’m not riddled with it like I was in 2002. The only areas of concern right now are two lymph nodes in my neck, plus my tonsils. (Which, for the record, I had REMOVED when I was in my early teens. But they grew back. Lucky me.) As long as lymph nodes are smaller than 1 cm, they’re in the normal range, which they’ve been… until now. But now one is 1.5+ cm, and the other is 2.3 cm, and they lit up like a friggin’ Christmas tree in the PET scans, which, with my history, is a sure sign that the Lymphoma has returned, even though my blood tests are coming up roses.
For now, we’re taking the “watchful waiting” approach; I’m not sick, and I’m not in pain. I’m not having trouble breathing, or swallowing, and I don’t have drenching night sweats or weight loss (I wish!) Docs like to keep therapies like chemo and radiation in their back pocket for when the cancer is really causing trouble, so they have a better chance of beating it back when they need to. If I don’t have to get chemo or stick my neck into radiation, I don’t want to, so that’s fine with me. So I’ll be going back in two months to determine how fast the lymph nodes are growing. That will help us determine if they grew a centimeter in the nearly three years since my last CT scan, or if all that growth happened in the last month. We’re hoping that it’s still indolent, or slow-growing, NHL, and that it hasn’t switched to the aggressive kind.
Since the doc appointment, JR and I have stocked up on organic fresh fruits & veggies, and broke out his old juicer. We’ve been juicing up a sweet concoction made up of carrots, apple, sweet Meyer lemons (I swear I’m not on their Ad council, but damn they’re good!), orange, parsley, and blueberries. So if you have any delicious superfoods-y juicing recipes, send them my way.
I’m a bundle of emotions right now, for SO MANY REASONS. It’s never a good time for cancer, but right now is particularly galling. We had HAVE all kinds of big things in the works for 2011, and this is a big ol’ wrench. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t PISSED OFF AS HELL. The prospect of fighting this fight all over again is emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausting. But fight we will. I just married the love of my life for christ’s sake, I’m not giving up now! All your good juju is welcome, in whatever form you see fit to send it.
CT scans, PET scans, blood tests, oh my!
I had been putting off my annual cancer checkup at the Stanford Cancer Center since September, so I finally made the appointment for December 3, 2010. I went in and got my usual CT scan of the neck, chest, abdomen/pelvis with and without contrast at the seriously lovely & well-run Palo Alto Stanford Medicine Imaging Center. It’s always nerve-wracking, but you gotta do what you gotta do. JR and I joke that I’ve been uncharacteristically healthy in the last year, so the scan should be nothing to worry about.
Then the doctor’s office called. “How do you feel?” the nurse asked.
“Fine. Why?” I said, my heart beating a little faster.
“Hmm… Did you have a cold when you came in for the scan?”
“No, I don’t think so.” My mind was racing… I hadn’t been sick in months. I was even down to just regular allergy medicine, no decongestant.
“Are you having trouble swallowing?” she asked. I was standing out on the front stoop so the call wouldn’t drop (shitty AT&T iPhone reception). I was feeling more than a little anxious now, my heart racing. I sat down on the stairs.
“No.” At least, I wasn’t having trouble swallowing until she’d asked. “I feel fine. Why?”
The lymph nodes in my neck were notably larger than they were in my last scan. So they needed me to come in for a higher resolution PET scan. Soon. Like, mark it stat and push it through insurance approvals fast. She said how sorry she was to have to do this on the phone, not having met me, since my entire medical team was on holiday until January. I was to expect a call from the Stanford Nuclear Imaging Center. I called JR, crying, and told him the news. He tried reassuring me, but once that panic sets in, there’s not a lot you can say to ease my fears.
The PET scan was set up for the afternoon of December 14, 2010, with my follow-up visit with my Lymphoma doc on January 4, 2011. So… we’d have to spend the Christmas holiday in San Antonio not knowing the results. And then the test itself was miserable. They stuck me with a needle 6 times, blowing my veins or just coming up dry after far too much digging. They changed technicians halfway through, hoping for better luck. It’s never a good sign when they start slapping your arm to try and raise a vein. It’s just not. I was transported right back to that place I was in treatment – lab tech after lab tech, blown vein after blown vein. They had the radioactive stuff in a heavy lead casing, ready to hook up to the IV, but my veins didn’t want to cooperate. That stuff doesn’t creep me out, so I can watch while they stick and draw blood. When he got a vein in the underside of my wrist, I watched as he started to inject it with saline, and he stopped, sighing heavily. “I think it’s blown.” He pumped a little more in, and my wrist expanded like there was a tiny balloon beneath the surface. “Yup. Blown.” I ended up with massive bruises at each site, and the one that ballooned was incredibly painful.
When they finally found a vein and were able to pump in the radioactive stuff, it had to course through my body for 45 minutes before the scan. JR was in the waiting room with no idea what was going on or how long it was supposed to take. The process had taken HOURS. When it was finally time for the scan, they had me go change into scrub pants and remove my bra, but they didn’t give me a hospital gown top, so I had to keep making sure the gap in the pants was covered by my top, and keep cinching the gap shut.
The rooms where they keep the PET scan machines are SOOO cold. And the scan took 45 minutes. When you come in they cover you up with a blanket that’s been in an oven, but that heat doesn’t last long. Even though the tech said he would chime in on the intercom to let me know how far along we were and how much longer it would take, he didn’t. At least you don’t have to hold your breath like you do for a CT scan. But when it was over, the tech just dropped me off without any instructions. You aren’t supposed to drink alcohol or caffeine after a CT scan, so I asked if the same applied. It doesn’t, but it would be nice to know that without asking. All in all, it took over six hours, when up front they said it would take less than three. And the whole time, JR was out in the waiting room left to wonder WTF?!
So: Palo Alto Stanford Medicine Imaging Center? Two thumbs up! Stanford’s Nuclear Imaging Center? Two thumbs down.
And then there was the doctor visit…
