I saw my pulmonologist — the physician who found my cancer in the first place — on November 12, and he was upbeat. Delighted to see the report of the benign ovarian tumor, and pleased with the CPAP reports. My oncologist — with whom he’d gotten me the first appointment — is, he said, “the very best,” and he’s optimistic about my outcome. Finally, I thanked him for finding my lung cancer in the first place, with an aggressive series of tests.
Following a CT scan last week, I saw my oncologist three days ago — there’s no BAD news. Nothing has gotten worse… or better. He wants me to get a biopsy of the enlarged lymph node in my chest, to see if it’s malignant. Statistically, chances are that it is. But he’s hopeful that it’s not, because, as he said, “so far we’ve found that you’re not as sick as we thought you were.” (However, I’m still considered Stage 3.)
The thoracic surgeon’s office called yesterday with a schedule for a consult on the biopsy procedure — that will be the fifth of December, next week. I’d initially seen a surgeon in the same office — a physician both my husband and I felt good about — but he’s since left town to be closer to family in California. So I’ll be seeing a highly experienced physician my oncologist greatly respects, though he has some misgivings about the man’s personality — “people either love him or hate him”. We have yet to schedule the actual biopsy — an outpatient procedure done under general anesthesia. Beyond that, we’re most likely looking at modified chemo, plus radiation. Lung surgery is a possibility, down the road, but the oncologist isn’t sure at this point that it would be useful.
If the surgeon doesn’t seem helpful, we’ll seek a second opinion.
And meanwhile, I’ve pulled my lower back, twisting and bending in a bad way. Treating the spasms with capsaicin and naproxen — I surely wish my acupuncturist hadn’t left town!