The appointment went in the worst scenario possible. They proved to us that the tumor has been consistently growing. The artemisinin does not appear to be working. We all feel completely deflated. There was crying from each of us. I don't even know how to process this information. I am not winning the battle against Hermie. The radiology reports that had been showing the same measurements at each MRI, had been haphazard and the doctor apologized. He said that he's seen that before, even to one of his family members who has a low grade glioma like me. He said that there are MRI reading specialists all in a room, going case by case, and that they're overworked and they can get sloppy. That they don't always review all the way back a few MRIs to truly compare. So, basically, those reports, which we had been banking on, were bogus.
The worst part is that the way the specialist reviewed all of the MRIs in front of us, showed that the artemisinin does not appear to be working. It should have been causing Hermie to shrink, which he hasn't. I need to regroup and think about what we're going to do next.
Perfect timing, my Wenatchee girls planned a long weekend, gifting me with a trip to Kaui. So, tomorrow morning I'll be flying out with Kristin, Michelle, Jessaca and Jenny. These girls always cheer me up and fill me with hope. They're exceedingly intelligent, too, so I'm sure they can help me figure out what to do.
I am so deflated, and scared. And now I am beginning to understand why so few people survive this cancer. It's vicious, tenacious, persistent, and effing strong. I just have to figure out how to outsmart it - and apparently, it's not going to be easy.
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| Thank God for the baby ducks. There's always something beautiful to find, even when you're down. |
