My favorite PET

Dana and I got up to Stanford at 10:20 this morning, three hours door to door, early for my 10:30 appt. We chewed Tums the whole way up; it seems we had some anxiety about the results from last week's PET scan. I woke up this morning trying to accept that even if I still had some leukemia I'd be alright, and a minute later wondering what was the most important thing to do in my final six months, and a minute later shoving all that out of my mind.

First task in the Cancer Center was the standard blood draw for lab tests, and then the main doc came in to begin the bone marrow biopsy (bmb). First, he and the PA asked if I'd had a PET scan recently! My head almost exploded, and I said 'Yeah, last Monday, out in the modular building.' They couldn't find it, so the PA went off to locate the missing scan. I was envisioning another PET scan, another week of waiting, of anxiety.

The doc and the tech started in on the bmb, and the PA came back as we waited for the lidocaine to settle in and numb my iliac crest. The PA said 'We found the PET scan, the test was complete.' I was thinking 'Of course it was complete, I laid in the tube for 45 minutes, didn't move a muscle.' The doc said to me congratulations, you can cry now, that means they did not find any indication of leukemic cells. You are cancer free.' I was so overwhelmed I didn't cry. I was having a hard time processing the info.

I had just skated through a bone marrow transplant with no graft v. host, little negative reaction to radiation and chemo, and now I was clear and clean. There is a small chance that there are leukemic cells in the bmb slices, but by the way the doc and the PA reacted, this chance was barely considerable. I will know that later this week, but they were confident enough that they planned to remove my port.

What does it mean? I can eat in restaurants. No more mask except in the hospital. I can eat fresh vegetables and fruit (at home only). Half of my meds were cut out, and the rest were reduced, meaning fewer headaches and stomachaches. No more excuses for laying around and not exercising. Fortunately, I still can't vacuum or garden because of spores. I can start golfing again in a few weeks (except I am so weak). I need to figure out what my next gig is, who I am now.

The doc performed the most painless bmb I have had, barely a needle prick or two, and we were done in 15 minutes. My labs came back and showed my creatinine level had almost doubled, not good, but nobody got very nervous. They hung a bag of saline on me to flush out some creatinine, and then the PA removed my central venous catheter (port). He had to clip away some tissue to make room to remove the cuff on the port, so I have a bandage and can't use a spa or hot tub or bath for 3 days.

I feel like I am done. Sure, I have to go back once a week for a few weeks, then every two weeks for a while, then once a month for a while. Fine, so be it. We agreed that we could monitor some things through my local oncology group. Next year I will be one of the new guys at the 21st BMT Reunion.

I whupped the big C, and I couldn't have done it without all of the thoughts, prayers and positive messages from all of you. I have a sister that provided me with the premium bone marrow. I was taken care of by a great caregiver and a few great substitutes that did not let me falter, enticed me to eat and exercise, and kept me engaged and positive. I may have had doubts in the darkest of hours, but the collective consciousness never had any other outcome but sucess in mind.

The last piece of business will be what to rename the blog; is it 'Holy Cow I Had Leukemia' or 'Holy Cow I Beat Leukemia'?