[2020-09-24] Post-op oncology visit
I will admit to having been a little nervous before today's post-op oncology visit, but I left feeling very positive.
This afternoon, I met with Dr. Le, the gynecologic oncologist who performed my surgery, as well as a resident doctor and a nurse.
Dr. Le reiterated what he had said a few days after my surgery: overall, the surgery went well. He did "optimum debulking," which means removing all visible tumours. Chemotherapy is designed to take care of anything that he didn't remove.
Any cancer found was in areas that were removed in their entirety (e.g., ovaries, fallopian tubes) or on the outside of organs (e.g., bladder, colon). So the cancer was on but not in any organs it touched. This is good news.
Pathology confirmed that my cancer is at stage 3. The resident indicated that my cancer is called high-grade serous carcinoma; it is the most common type of ovarian cancer. She said that, for ovarian cancer, we have very good treatment options. Dr. Le added that they are increasingly looking at ovarian cancer as a chronic disease, with the aim of keeping people living longer and longer. I found this especially encouraging.
What I have in my favour, the resident said, is that I am healthy, with no underlying medical conditions, and that the surgery was successful. If I respond well to chemotherapy, it bodes well for the future.
In my mind, I thought of a three-layer cake:
- Layer 1 - good base health
- Layer 2 - successful surgery
- Layer 3 - chemotherapy—outcome to be determined
The resident also noted that there is evidence that a positive attitude and journaling help. I had to laugh at this—I suppose it's fitting, this being my 50th post. I asked her to send me articles that provide the evidence for this. It's not that I'm a skeptic; it's just that I would like to be able to share this information with you.
After the two doctors left the room, the nurse measured my weight (121 lbs.) and height (5'5") so that the doctor would know how much chemotherapy to give me. She then spent a few more minutes with me. She was an angel.
"I'm going to tell you a story," she said. "My mom had ovarian cancer, including in her lymph nodes."
"I don't even have cancer in my lymph nodes," I interjected.
"Exactly!" She continued. "My mom went through the surgery. And she went through the chemotherapy. She did great. That was 8 years ago." Her mom was 72 when she was diagnosed and is now 80.
I wanted to hug her. That story made my heart swell. She said that her mom wants her to share her story, to give other women hope.
The nurse then went on to explain how her mom had tolerated chemotherapy. She felt fine on the day of treatment but tired for the next three days—not necessarily sick, but tired. Her treatments were on Thursdays, so she had "pyjama days" on Friday, Saturday and Sunday, and was back to her activities on Monday.
"And I'm going to tell you another story," said the nurse. "I had cancer 25 years ago. I went through surgery and chemotherapy, and I'm still here."
The nurse also stated that she is a big believer in the power of positive thinking and support. She told me that she could see my positive spirit, and that she was convinced that I would do great.
Thinking back to my three-layer cake, positive attitude, journaling and support became the icing on my cake.
It reminded me of the mole in The Boy, The Mole, The Fox and the Horse; he is obsessed with cake.
"Do you have a favourite saying?" asked the boy.
"Yes," said the mole.
"What is it?"
"If at first you don't succeed, have some cake?"
"I see, does it work?"
"Every time."
Your love and support are an integral part of the icing on my cake—that sweet extra that could make all the difference.
