Today, I’m going with a few simple language quotes on my lung tumor follow-up CT scan results. No flowery phrases. Let’s get right into the weeds:
The preliminary results were delivered via phone message recording from my oncologist Doc (I was out in the garden when he called).
Mixed results. Some roses, some buckthorn:
· “Not a whole lot of change.”
· “Still a large lymph node, but slightly larger.”
· “No new spots.”
· “Results sent to radiation oncologist.”
Diane later spoke with him, and he whacked the weeds down a bit:
There hadn’t been a big difference in my lymph node cancer site since the last scan, and though it had increased slightly in size, there was no apparent NEW growth in the garden (metastasis anywhere else). He is getting a consult from radiation Doc, who administered my first round of treatments that began on DayTwo.
Seems like only a million perennial gardens ago.
I can’t remember who said it, but I was once told that “a flower garden should undulate, not march.”
I’ve tried to live my life that way, though I’ve been known to rigidly walk in lockstep when I should’ve romped, pinwheel with abandon when steady pacing was called for, or follow the leader when taking the point was the better part of valor.
Today, yes, I’m taking a moment to stop, smell the weeds and pick a few flowers.
Along with the chemotherapy, a targeted one-shot radiation treatment might also help to plant and cultivate because of how my tumor is now presenting.
I choose to think of it as an anti-fertilizer.
It just might keep me marching along in open field formation, but still undulating in my own closed yard cadence.
Next week, another round of chemo … and designing a radiant new garden plot.
More as we go, El