August 15, 2007 - Tests

I know it seems like I've been slacking at regular updates for the last couple of days, but I have a good excuse - I didn't feel like it. Or my fingers were tired. I had to wash my hair? You know me, I'm such an emotional roller coaster. Actually I was kind of waiting to have some accurate info to post.

DISCLAIMER: I wasn't there. Shame on me. I was upset, too, because I love going to the doctor. Anyway, the following information is based solely on an interview with the Subject (Melisa, my wife. Please don't tell anyone I called her the Subject.) and is by no means to be taken as 100% fact. I tend to exaggerate, embellish, and otherwise destroy perfectly good information. This is strictly my interpretation of events that may or may not have happened. I wasn't there and can't prove them. If anything seems fictitious, it probably is. Or isn't. Who knows?

Last Monday (8/13), Melisa went to have the CAT Scan done. She was offered, and accepted with great anticipation, a 44 oz Big Gulp of red Kool-Aid with some delectable oral contrast sprinkled in. After about an hour they started her on an IV and took a couple of pictures. Then they spiced up the IV with some cocktail that makes your hands and head hot. As an added bonus, your privates get hot and it feels like you're peeing. (I've had that dream.) They took a couple more pictures and were done. Isaac, the Specialized Radiologist Tech who did the tests, went to school under Bob (Mel's Dad) while he was teaching PE at Andrews University (Berrien Springs, MI) in the 80's. It's one thing to pee in front of somebody. It's another thing to pee in front of someone who knows your Dad. Good thing she didn't actually pee.

On Tuesday (8/14), Mel met with Dr. Ansari, the Oncologist. It was a quickie appointment to discuss some of the recent tests he had ordered. He said the bone scan was normal. The CAT Scan was also normal except for one lymph node on her left side. He said it was normal and a comparable size to her other lymph nodes. However, the radiologist considered it suspicious because it is 1.1 cm (dilated and fully effaced - just kidding). The surgeon, Dr. Poulin, is going to be in that area anyway, so Dr. Ansari is going to have him take it out during surgery. Melisa is scheduled to go back to see Dr. Ansari in about a month.

Today was good times at Genetic Counseling. Much blood was taken. Family trees were rustled through. Information was permeating the air: Who had what diseases? How old were they when they were diagnosed with those diseases? How old were they when they died? Who let the dogs out? You know. Important stuff like that. I guess they're looking for mutations on the BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes. No. I don't have a clue what that is and neither do you. Because if you do I guess we can't be friends anymore. I don't need the grief of you thinking you're better than me now, plus I don't like hanging with people who speak Acronym. Anyway, the chances of her having these mutations are between 10% and 15%. People who are positive have increased likelihood of ovarian cancer. Ultimately, these tests provide a risk analysis for ovarian cancer and information on what direct family members need to be checked for. The results of the tests are pending, and I'll keep you posted.

This afternoon the offices of Dr. Shulman and Dr. Poulin called to schedule surgery. We're on for the afternoon of Sept. 11. Until then there are some more blood tests scheduled, but otherwise a bit of calm before the storm.

Thank you for all your emails, calls, comments and messages. I've had several people tell me they didn't know what to say. Really, there's not much too say. Other than THAT SUCKS! But just knowing you care and are there for her makes all the difference. I tell her, "I'm sorry" and "I love you." That seems to ease the pain a little. If for some reason you can't be more creative, you're welcome to steal my lines.

On that note, have a great day and I'll keep you posted as soon as I feel like it again.