and the prognosis is…

 In February of 2022, the vomiting, nausea and inability to keep solid foods down convinced me to go to the nearby UPMC clinic, hoping for an aspirin and maybe an antibiotic that would allow me to eat normally again.  On my way from the clinic to the pharmacy to fill the prescriptions, I reached for the seatbelt and, instead of the seatbelt, pulled what I thought was a muscle under my arm.  

Four hours later, I was throwing up in the emergency waiting room.  After being given a scan and then a bed, the ER doctor told me that there were two 6 cm tumors in my abdomen and that I was scheduled for emergency surgery on February 18th.

My diagnosis was stage 4 endometrial cancer.  The first tumor was necrotic and had invaded the nearby large intestine.  The second tumor was pressing on other organs and was beginning to attach to the abdominal wall.  The two together were creating an intestinal blockage that was interfering with my digestion.

The surgery removed the two cancerous, necrotic tumors as well as the affected areas of the large intestine.  All of the nearby organs and tissues invaded by the cancer were removed, and the abdominal walls scraped for any trace of the cancer.

The result was an 8” stapled wound in my abdomen and a colostomy.  But I was on the road to recovery.

Chemotherapy started immediately, and the radiation treatments were scheduled.  Everyone was looking forward.

But I wondered, to what?

Treatments have come a long way.  They are ever-changing, improving.  The cancer moonshot was an affirmation that looking for a cure was important, forthcoming.

But I  needed a prognosis.

To go through chemotherapy, radiation, and the damage to my healthy tissue, I needed to have a reason, a prognosis that included healing.

After the surgery and my release from the hospital, there was a change in the timeline for repair and then a delay in the schedule for radiation.  But the most unsettling change was the change in wording from “when” to “if”.

My questions went unanswered so I did the research myself.  I checked the Mayo Clinic for definitions, explanations, treatments, medications, then checked NIH for statistics and clinical trials.  My diagnosis, my age group, my type of cancer - a 5% chance of surviving more than 5 years.

I didn’t want to wait to hear more.  I wanted to see the Outer Banks one more time.  I wanted to drive the Pacific Coast Highway one more time.

So I did.

Complications and another tumor forced two more emergency surgeries, each of which saved my life again.  Unfortunately the third surgery could not remove the tumor because it was too large.

My oncologist suggested genetic testing and chemotherapy. She then selected Keytruda (pembrolizumab) immunotherapy as a last resort to shrink the tumor.  Three months later, scans showed no more tumor in my abdomen…the treatment worked!

Three years later, I am fortunate to still be here.

So many doctors, nurses, people to thank for their support, for their knowledge, for their talent.  

For saving my life.