My Lung Garden

For the last 3 months I've been walking around knowing that I might have cancer still growing in my body after all.

For the last 2 weeks I've been living in a state of what I would call "near emotional devastation" at the thought of having metastatic cancer and all the implications it brings with it.

So without further ado, the results are in and the post-Oscar award goes to...


I'll give you a second to sigh with disbelief.

Metastatic cancer.

Adenocarcinoma is the exact type of cancer I had in my colon, so it confirms that those little cancer cells took a road trip on the lymphatic highway and found a new place to bed down for the night. For reasons we'll probably never know, this little flower was present at my very first CT scan, but showed no signs of growing until last November.

Let me illustrate it for you: I have a lung garden full of seeds. As with any garden, many seeds are duds and never grow. In my garden, one of them has and blossomed into a cancerous flower.

Though the party has now moved to my lung, I technically still have colon cancer. I know it's not in my colon, but it originated in my colon and so the colon gets all the credit for this one. And because I know you're wondering, my colon is doing amazingly well. Extremely well. Youthfully well. Well enough that some people in this house are a little jealous.

What I have can technically be called Stage IV Colon Cancer or Metastatic Colon Cancer.

We meet with my oncologist on Friday, were it will actually be nice to know the bad news before sitting down in his office. As discussed in our last appointment, we know that the plan involves more treatment; a chemotherapy regime called FOLFURI (verses my last treatment called FOLFOX).

At this point, given the tininess of my nodule cancerous flower, the pulmonologist did not feel that surgery was an option. There is the potential that any of the other even tinier nodules might turn out to be cancerous, so surgically removing my cancerous flower now might be futile should these other seeds start to grow.

Yes, it's devastating. The thought of going through treatment again is nauseating. The pending disruption to my kid's lives is upsetting. But it is what it is and I am grateful that we have known about this naughty little nodule cancerous flower from its very beginning. It has been watched, measured, scanned and cultivated under the watchful eye of my oncologist.

But life goes on, and the rest of the week will consist of swim lessons, the gym, preschool, Spin class, normalcy, cancer and being awesome. Just because we know doesn't change a thing right now. I still feel great, my lungs are functioning at 100% (confirmed again today with a "walking" test) and I will once again seize every day because I CAN.

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