Today, I had a CT scan of my torso. The purpose was to look for a recurrence of my ovarian cancer. Though such a recurrence is not suspected, the diagnostic test was ordered to check whether there are any signs of cancerous tumours. If not, my oncology team may recommend that I stop taking olaparib (brand name Lynparza).

Olaparib is a PARP inhibitor, which suppresses the growth of cancerous tumours. While it appears to be working well for me—I have not had a cancer recurrence in the three years and eight months I have been on the drug and I continue to tolerate it well—no drug is without side effects. One of the long-term risks of olaparib is the development of blood cancer.

Though I have had numerous diagnostic tests over the past four years in relation to my perianal skin cancer and my mastectomy and breast reconstruction, I have never had such a test in connection with my ovarian cancer. Instead, my gynecologic oncology team has relied primarily on monthly checks of my CA125 and the results of diagnostic tests completed for other health conditions to conclude that I am not experiencing a cancer recurrence.

I will be meeting with a member of The Ottawa Hospital gynecologic oncology team on Friday. The prospect of discontinuing olaparib causes me some concern. I wonder whether I would continue to see a low, steady CA125 and no evidence of new tumours if I were to come off the medication. And if I were to stop taking the drug and experience a recurrence, I question whether I would be eligible to go back on the drug or whether I would be required to undergo more surgery and chemotherapy. And the biggest, unanswered question is this: if I agree to discontinuing olaparib, might I be giving up my shot at being cured?

At least when I have the conversation with my oncologist at the end of the week, we'll have more information to work with than we have had to date. Two essential questions for Friday: what is the risk of recurrence if I stop taking olaparib, and what is the risk of blood cancer if I stay on it? My oncologist may not have the answers to those questions (recall that olaparib has been approved for use in Canada only since 2016), but I will ask them anyway.

After today's CT scan at The Ottawa Hospital, which was remarkably efficient and 30 minutes ahead of schedule, I sat down in the reception area to wait the required 10 minutes to ensure that I would not react to the contrast solution that had been pumped into my veins as part of the procedure. An older gentleman sat down nearby and asked, "You're waiting too?" His wife had just been wheeled into the scanning room for her own CT. "I'm waiting to have my IV removed in 10 minutes," I responded. For the ensuing 10 minutes, we engaged in a wide-ranging discussion. I learned that he had grown up on a farm in Saskatchewan. We had that in common, though his family's farm—at 1¾ sections, which he explained was equivalent to more than 1,000 acres—was much larger than the 200-acre farm I had grown up on. He remarked that farms in Ontario have many more stones than those in Saskatchewan, which led to a discussion about picking stones. He asked whether my family had a stone boat. I said that stone boats were before my parents' time; I also commented that, now, my brothers have bulldozers and a dump truck to clear all the stones, trees and debris from fence rows that were established on my mom's farm by past owners.

He told me about his military service and explained that he and his wife had decided to retire in Ottawa to be close to her parents, as she is an only child. He shared his love for Ottawa, noting that he regularly visits the Experimental Farm to watch the workers plant and harvest crops, which reminds him of his youth. We chatted about our ancestors—primarily English with a little Irish in the mix on his side, similar to my father's heritage, plus my mom's French heritage. I learned that he and his wife have two children (a daughter and a son) and seven grandchildren, which I found notably productive.

We talked about many more things, including the fact that he still cheers for the Saskatchewan Roughriders even though Ottawa is now his home. We would likely have gone on chatting had it not been for the emergence of his wife from the CT scan room and the removal of my IV. As the man rejoined his wife, I heard him say, "I met another woman." He nodded in my direction; his wife did not appear to be surprised. I imagine that he meets people wherever he goes, striking up conversations with a simple opening line. I do the same, enjoying conversations with strangers. For my part, a few well-placed questions were all that was needed to nurture today's dialogue with a lovely gentleman and to pass a very agreeable 10 minutes.