We Did It!

Life keeps throwing us curve balls, and we keep hitting them outta the park.  When we got home from the oncology appointment today I literally felt like singing that silly little cartoon song.

First, when we arrived at the building, we tried to park in the garage instead of the lot in front of the main entrance.  This, we thought, would be more out of the way considering it takes 15-20 minutes to get me into and out of the car (mostly wheelchair loading time).  We were alarmed to discover that the brackets that hold our ramp and wheelchair onto the trailer hitch on the back of the car scrape the ground on the steep ramps of the parking garage.  We exited that nightmare as slowly and carefully as we could, with me cringing every time I heard the sound of metal grating on pavement.  

Next we drove back to the main entrance, and determined there was no other option than to basically block one section of the narrow horseshoe driveway in front of the building while we got me unloaded.  Only, when my husband tried to unload the wheelchair, the bolt holding the clamp that keeps the power controls and steering joystick attached to the armrest had come apart, and the power controls were just dangling by their cord.  Hubby swore under his breath, picked up all the little bolt and washer and lever type pieces he could see, and somehow managed to drive the thing down the ramp and bring it around next to the car so I could get in.  He had to hold the power console while I got out and sat in the chair, then I held it in my lap and struggled to steer myself inside while he packed up the ramp, and carried in my walker for me.  We got checked in for my appointment and did the blood draw for the lab work portion, and then hubby whipped out some pliers and got to work.  It was nearly impossible to hold the many tiny pieces together while trying to attach it to the chair arm, but he finally got it when I helped hold them in place while he turned them.  We called the chair company and left a message for repair help to make sure everything's in place securely anyway, but it appears that we fixed it pretty good.  One hurdle cleared!

A few minutes later, it became clear to me that I would need to use the restroom before we got back home.  We still hadn't seen the doctor yet, and had ten minutes until my appointment time with him, so I asked the receptionist if there was an accessible bathroom we could use where my husband would be able to come in with me.  She recommended coming around back to the patient restrooms instead of trying to use the more public, multiple-stall restrooms in the building's common area, so we followed her back there.  I have been wanting to work on public toilet transfers in therapy, but we haven't gotten to it yet with all the walking and stairs I've been doing, but I was pretty confident my husband and I could figure out how to accomplish it safely.  It took some delicate driving to get the power chair in the door and get the door to close, then hubby had to move the garbage bin, but then we were able to get me in good position to stand up with the walker, take a step or two towards the toilet, turn around, drop my drawers and do my business.  Just in time, too.  I was worried the toilet would be kind of low to stand up from, but with one hand on the wall rail and one hand grasping my husband's for leverage, my knees had no trouble getting me up off that throne.  Drawers back up, walk forward, sit back down in the wheelchair, and we were ready to re-do the dance with the garbage bin so I could get my chair up to the sink.  Once we were all washed up, hubby folded up the walker and held the door open while I came out, just as the nurse was looking for me to take me into my appointment.  Second hurdle cleared!

We got to enjoy the impressed amazement on Dr. Chemotherapy's face when he heard about all that I've been able to do so far in physical therapy, and he confirmed the assessment of Dr. Radiation regarding my April MRI.  No growth, no shrinking, although he feels that we are still within the window that we may yet eventually see positive changes as a result of the radiation.  Then, the best news of the day:  Dr. Chemo sees no reason to begin chemo at this time.  He shares my concerns about how it will weaken and sicken me, and said that I was already doing the most important work that could be done for me right now:  getting myself up to "fighting" strength.  My cancer has a very low cell turnover rate, 5% on the scale they use to measure such things, compared to really aggressive, fast-growing tumors that could be rated above 90%, so he feels safe in continuing to monitor my progress and not do anything to slow me down at this point.  

So, we'll see him again in August.  The results of today's blood work should take about a week, and they will call me with any information about that when it comes in.  They will do blood work again in August, mainly to monitor my liver function.  Which reminds me, I asked Dr. Chemo about the stage of my cancer, because people sometimes ask me that.  Apparently staging is determined by whether or not your cancer has metastasized, so mine is unstaged because we have not determined whether that has happened or not.  He explained that we could do expensive imaging to go looking for other tumors in my body, starting with my liver since that is the most common location for this uncommon cancer, but knowing that wouldn't change our treatment plans.  We wouldn't rush off to start systemic chemotherapy just because we find cancer in my liver, because it would still be complicated by my potential blood clot issues (they are redoing those blood tests today) and we would still be waiting for me to get stronger before we attacked my body in that fashion.  So there's really not any point in trying to figure out whether my cancer has metastasized, but we will keep monitoring things like liver function to keep an eye out for signs of potential trouble.  I also get my blood oxygen saturation checked every time my home health nurse visits or I visit the doctor, since lungs are the other most common place these tumors like to hang out.  So far, all seems to be well there, too.

We made it back home without any more snags, and were feeling pretty damned pleased with ourselves.  We won't have to head back to the oncologist's for another three months, and by that time I might not even need a wheelchair to see him.  Maybe my husband's favorite part of the whole outing:  Dr. Chemo agreeing with him that we should try to get out and see a movie.  Hubby's had his eye on The Avengers.  Perhaps we'll give that a shot next weekend, we'll see!