Scans in a week

I think we’ve shared before that the time leading up to scans can be tough for all of us. This time is no exception.

There is just so much behind the phrase “she has her 3 year post-treatment scans coming up”.

That sounds like such a simple sentence. And, scans seem like such a routine thing. For us, this will her 15th MRI of her face since April of 2021. I haven’t counted the chest scans, but the number is close, a bit lower, but close. For us, scans just aren’t as simple as the sentence may seem.

There’s the ever-present concern about how will placement of the catheter for the IV for the contrast go. While that may seem minor – it has been really major in the past, and we’re just still living through that trauma. Each time we go in we can’t help but wonder if it will be like that one time that was super, super bad.

Just getting to the scans has it’s own set of challenges. Since this batch of scans includes a chest CT, that means no food or drink that morning. Since we don’t know which vein will cooperate, several spots (usually 4) get some emla cream and then covered with press n seal to help numb the skin. Deciding what to bring along for entertainment during the waiting can be a challenge. Parking at the hospital is always an adventure. And, then we make it back up to the 10th floor. Ahh, exiting the elevator there brings back lots of memories as we spy beautiful bald kiddos.

But, there’s also the unspoken reality of why we’re even going in the first place. Once you’ve discovered that the lump in your loved ones’ cheek isn’t “just nothing”, you are now living in the reality that sometimes it’s not just nothing, sometimes it is is the unthinkable. And, as we get to know more people who’ve experienced the diagnosis of cancer, we get to know more people that have had the awful reality of recurrence. So, that reality is ever-present even as we focus on other, more positive things.

The professionals that have developed the treatment plan have included follow-up for a reason. While there is confidence in the healing power of the surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation there is also the reality that sometimes that just didn’t cut it. Sometimes cancer comes back, or a new one, caused by the life-saving treatment, appears. So they schedule checks.

The fact is that none of us knows what will happen. Tomorrow, or even tonight, isn’t promised to anyone. While that’s true for all of us, cancer survivor or not; once this has entered the story we can’t pretend it hasn’t. We can’t help but wonder if the ongoing shortness of breath and coughing are signs of something horrible lurking in her lungs rather than just her body fighting off allergy-induced crud. So, while we may have some bit of reassurance once the results from the face MRI and chest CT are in, we are currently in the moment of wondering and not knowing.

And for us, here at the 3 year pos-treatment mark, another milestone is happening. Transferring from our primary oncologist to the TLC clinic. TLC stands for “taking on life after cancer”. So, we get to meet a new batch of helpers. We get to learn about another whole realm in the hospital. And, we get to be reminded what they’re watching for as they keep an eye out for late effects of treatment. That treatment that had her vomiting for 6 months, in addition to getting rid of the cancer, sometimes, in some people, it damages other things. So, we get to learn about that. Yes, we’re thankful to be to this point. Yet, it’s a reminder that dealing with the aftermath of cancer continues.