The result of the MRI-scan confirms what I’d suspected. The cancer is really being pushed back by the chemo. I’m by far not out of the danger zone yet, but this is indeed a positive interim evaluation! The internist-oncologist scrolled through the more than 400 images produced by the scan. On his monitor he put two images side by side: one of the latest MRI scan (7 June) and one of the first one (30 March). Only then I fully realised: the frightening lump, 9 cm long, glowing bright white on the first images, had turned into a little, faintly greyish diffuse cloud, 6 cm long. A favourable result indeed, which means that there is every reason to start the second attack.
My brother and I therefore walked from the internist-oncologist’s consulting room, straight to our appointment on the next battle scene. By the way, ‘battle scene’ refers to the poison that is being administered according to plan, not to the atmosphere in the oncology department. A fellow patient had already told me during my early days of chemotherapy that she had noticed that all staff members were, without exception, kind and professionally skillful. By now I recognize that as well. Moreover, they give me the impression that they are happyt to form a team with their patients as well as with each other. When you are so incredibly vulnerable as I am now, this is exactly what you need. For I am pretty tired most of the time, and in pain as well, and then I’m getting down and thus extra sensitive to atmosphere. Because of this peaceful atmosphere I was able to let things go, despite the bizarre surroundings, and was dozing off regularly between the changing of infusion bags and the squeaking noises of pumps.
After the miraculously refreshing blood transfusion last Friday, one of my eye lids suddenly started to hurt on Monday afternoon. During the following days it became clear that it was seriously inflamed and at the same time I was struck by a severe (different kind of) headache. A professional pain specialist I know gave me some useful tips to reduce the pain. After the internist-oncologist had seen my eye today, he arranged a visit to the eye specialist straight after the chemotherapy. One shop stopping! Armed with new instructions and eye drops, my brother and I stepped outside into the warm air.
We treated ourselves twice on delicious ice creams and later in the day possibly a film or nice TV-series. What I would most like to do is to treat all (almost 250) followers of these blogs tonight on ice creams as well. And there is reason for it: the chemotherapy kicks in, on to the next track!