all the details

So. I don't know if you've heard, but yesterday was awesome. We were at The West Clinic for six hours, Mom and I never got to eat lunch, and my cell phone charger got stolen. I'd sit there for sixty more hours, skip weeks of lunches, and give the little thief who took my charger my iphone, too, just to receive that news all over again . . . the news that Mom's CT scan showed no signs of cancer. I still can't wrap my head around it!

As you might've heard, the wait for the scan yesterday was forever long. At least a couple of their machines were down, as well as the machine at the midtown location, so our clinic was super packed and super behind schedule. Mom got her lab work done shortly after we got there, and then we spent a little over two hours waiting (and talking and praying and texting and facebook posting). She was finally called back for her scan around 1:15.

I don't think I realized how nervous I was until Mom went back for her scan and I was left alone in the waiting room (well, of course I wasn't actually alone since it was the most crowded day ever, but you get my drift). I hate scan days. I know they're necessary and they often turn out to be some of the most wonderful days ever, but, still, they're a pain. It's way more fun to just pretend like no one has cancer and go shopping. Anyway, it wasn't long after Mom's scan that we were called back to see Dr. T. My dad arrived in time to hear the news with us. I knew it was a good sign when Dr. T's nurse practitioner, Marcus, came in first. I figured Dr. T would deliver bad news in person. 

"Your CAT scan looked fine.", Marcus said. 

Mom's initial response was, "Really?" She was SHOCKED. Totally prepared for the worst. 

My first response was: Hey, Marcus, do ya think you could sound a little more excited about that? Like maybe jump up and down when you say it or use the word "amazing" instead of "fine" or spin around on your stool a couple times? Or at least add an exclamation point??

Just kidding. I was actually trying to choke back tears of joy and didn't speak at all. But I did think those things later. And Marcus was happy, just obviously not as happy as we were, because, um, he's only met Mom once before. 

Dr. Tauer came in after a few minutes and was way more upbeat than the last time we saw him. It was obvious he was excited, too. And he said that Mom looked more like herself yesterday than she has in a while. :-) Mom spoke very realistically with him about "buying time", which is part of what Dr. T talked to us about a few weeks ago. He was quick to reassure her that his expectation for her is cure (his words). He said, "Now, the statistics don't support that, but you shouldn't have been around six months after metastatic breast cancer and here you are six and a half years later." Good point, Dr. T. Oh, and by the way, you left out that little "six months" tidbit when we were having these kinds of talks back in 2004. Thanks for that. 

Mom's not out of the woods yet. Not even close. Before she had the Whipple, Dr. B (her surgeon) told her that PC comes back about 90% of the time. Ouch. Dr. T says (now that she's had a successful surgery) that he doesn't think her chances are quite that bad - "probably not as good as 50/50, but not 90." Regardless, we're all too aware that this good news might be short-lived. BUT, every person who's ever been cured of pancreatic cancer started with news like this. Hope is here. 

Dr. T says recurrence is most likely to happen in the first 6-18 months. All treatment (for PC) is officially done. No more chemo. No more Tarceva. (Can I get an amen?) Mom's next scan will be April 18th, and that will be a big test because, at that point, she will have been off chemo for three months. You know what that means, don't you? Yep, prayer is our chemo. 

Of course that scan will happen sooner if Mom starts having any new symptoms. She'll continue to get her Herceptin treatments (for breast cancer) every three weeks and always has routine lab work done with those. Since those labs were how they discovered the pancreatic cancer in the first place, that makes us feel a tiny bit better about waiting three months for another scan. Just one of the perks of having two kinds of cancer at once.

In other news, Mom's still not feeling great because a) her potassium is low (she has pills for this), and b) her hematocrit (red blood cells) is low again. Her hematocrit should be at least 37 (it hasn't been that since before surgery). Insurance will pay for a blood transfusion when it gets down to 25, and yesterday Mom's was 26. Once the chemo is totally out of her system, her blood supply should start to build back up again, but it'll probably take several weeks to get back to normal. Lots more resting is in store for Trish.

Breast cancer tumor markers were drawn yesterday, so please pray that those will be normal. We usually find out those results within about a week.

"Thank you" is inadequate to express how incredibly grateful we are for all the prayers, encouragement, and kind comments we've received over the last couple of days. My phone was so overwhelmed with facebook updates and text messages that it started dying yesterday before Mom ever had her scan (hence my plugging my charger into the wall, then accidentally leaving it there, and then having some kind stranger give it a new home). Knowing there were literally hundreds of people praying for us gave us such peace. Mom said yesterday was the calmest she's ever felt on a scan day. Thank you. And thank you for rejoicing with us over this latest miracle! I love that the gates of Heaven were just as stormed with praises yesterday afternoon as they were with requests yesterday morning.

Now we continue praying for complete healing and ask God to bless us with another miracle in April. But mostly we continue to thank Him for the many glimpses He's given us of His glory and beg Him to show us more! 

"God's voice thunders in marvelous ways; He does great things beyond our understanding." -Job 37:5