Aug 11, 2009 - 4:59 pm
My chemo oncologist and my radiation oncologists couldn't be more different. My chemo oncologist is always laughing and optimistic and called me on Sunday to shout out the NED results from Friday's CT-scan. But my radiation oncologist is soooo much more sedate. His response to my NED CT-scan and check-up today was a limp-noodle "So far, so good". What does THAT mean?? Good now, but maybe not good later??!! I KNOW that! But I'm a big believer in celebrating ALL good news WITHOUT the cautionary 'what ifs'. Anyhoooo, I don't need to see him again for 4 months for another routine check-up.
It was a strange follow-up visit for radiation, I thought. He did an internal pelvic exam; AND a combination digital rectal/vaginal palpatation exam. (fun fun.) He deemed everything "good". He checked the ankle and foot that have been swelling when I'm on my feet a lot and said that it was typical for patients who have had their lymph nodes radiated (during the pelvic radiation) to have scarring that causes this swelling. I'm just to keep putting my feet up every chance I get, and if it bothers me a lot, get compression stockings. But he didn't seem worried about the swelling, so I won't be either. My blood pressure was down to my normal perfect range, and I've dropped 7 pounds (8 to go until my pre-cancer weight). He asked about my bowels and urination and if there was pain during sex, etc. He seemed pleased with me overall.
But that "So far, so good" irks me a little. I feel WONDERFUL! I know I'm not 100% cured or anything. But I'm NED, and 'so far so good' is just too understated. Thankfully the REST of the radiation staff (nurses, techs, receptionists, P.A.) all whooped it up about the clear CT-scan, and hugged me and told me I looked FABULOUS with my eyelashes and brows and tiny new hair and beach suntan.
Next week I have appointments with my 'glass-half-full' chemo-onc and the hospital's brand-new gyn-onc for bloodwork and PAP, and i will probably schedule my annual mammogram right away and get my teeth cleaned; then I think I'll have 3 beautiful "no-doctor" months to pretend I don't have cancer and pack in as much living as I can.