The Best Worst Thing: Entry 3 | Scan Results

Be sure to read in order:
Diagnosis
PET CT Scan
Scan Results
Radiation
Eadem Mutata Resurgo

Scan Results
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It wasn’t so bad and it was over before I knew it. I got dressed and went to the building next door to wait in doctor Reiner’s office for the results. I found Tracy. And Sarah. My eyes filled up with tears when I saw the two of them sitting there waiting for me. Sarah told Tracy the night before that she was taking the morning off to be there with us. Seeing her sitting there reminded me of the years I’d climbed onto the school bus and saw her waiting.

Darrell had told me to wait to eat anything in case they decided to do more tests. I was starving and nervous. Had he seen something on the scan that implied I’d need more tests? An older, curvy woman and her daughter walked into the waiting room and sat nearby. She had on a bandanna – at the cancer care center, it’s safe to assume what’s going on.

They told me Dr. Reiner was still in surgery and it would be another 20 minutes. Sarah and Tracy talked and I sat silently for what felt like an eternity.

“Is that him?” Tracy asked. I turned around and saw Dr. Reiner walk by.

A few more minutes passed. A man burst into the room and screamed, “You’re clear!” Sarah and Tracy rejoiced. My back was against the front of the room. I turned around. “Who?” I asked. “You!” and Dr. Reiner pointed at me. The three of us stood and hugged and the woman and her daughter cheered.

“I need to change out of these scrubs, but I wanted to get the waiting over with. It’s the worst part. I’ll be back to get you in a few minutes.”

“Cancer can suck it!” Tracy shouted.

The woman said, “I love that you just cursed while you’re holding your Bible. Cancer CAN suck it!”

I turned to her and we locked eyes. “I just found out I’m clear, too,” she told me. “I want my butt and my hair back!” I reached down to touch her hand and she pulled me in for a hug. It was one of the most intimate moments I’ve ever shared with a complete stranger.

Dr. Reiner took us back into a room to look at the scan results. I had no idea what we were looking at. I was just so thrilled with the news. I started texting my family and my friends. My brother’s response, “Katie, I’m so happy and relieved. I haven’t been able to get out of bed waiting to hear. Love you!” The knot he had in his chest since Thursday finally released.

The night before, Tracy told us a story about a priest she’d heard talk about how we “should on” ourselves too much. I’m notorious for shoulding on myself. As we walked to our cars, Sarah said, “Let’s get brunch to celebrate.”

“I should get back to work,” I said.

“Katie, don’t should on yourself,” she said with a smile.

She was right. This was something to celebrate. We enjoyed brunch and I text all the people who’d been cheering for me, including my friend Joe in MN who had sent a video of his twin 4-1/2 year old sons praying for me that morning. I text him, “Scan was clear! Eye only. I got this thanks for the prayers. Keep ‘em coming!”

His response, “#$%& YEAH! I actually just cried just a tiny bit and there are two other guys sitting with me at a conference table who haven’t even noticed. So pretty much we can say PHEW on a couple totally awesome fronts. Oh my gosh I feel so relieved and happy and thankful for little boy prayers that God clearly likes so much. Okay, now I had to leave the conference table because I was being all blinky when a tear escaped. You TOTALLY got this!”

I went back to work for the rest of the afternoon. It’s safe to say my team collectively gained some lbs because of all this. We kept going to get yogurt. Katie has cancer – we should get yogurt. Katie’s scan was clear – we should get yogurt. Remember when Katie’s scan was clear yesterday? – we should get yogurt. I had 9 days until my radiation treatment. It was business as usual. I started to tell some clients who had become close friends over the years, but for the most part, I was trying to keep it private/quiet at work.

My client Brandon, a good friend who shares a similar faith (clearly I was hoarding prayers!), was surprised by the news and offered I talk to his brother, who went through the same thing some 20 years ago. In talking to his brother Dustin, I learned that he received the same treatment from Dr. Hovland, the father of my Dr. Hovland. He didn’t remember much about the radiation, which gave me hope that maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. What gave me the most hope was that Dustin is now in his mid-30’s, happily married with two kiddos. He still struggles with his vision, but his quality of life is in good form.

I look forward to the day that I can be a resource for someone like Dustin and other survivors were for me. In all, I was able to talk or write with 4 ocular cancer survivors, and I heard of 20 or so friends and family who knew someone who had been through it. I only heard of one person who didn’t survive.

That night, I had a mental-dental health night. This is when my therapist, Kalliope (we’ll call her Kalli for short, and yes, this is an alias), my dentist, Jen, and I get together for wine. It’s as fantastic as it sounds. Two bright, beautiful women who are major influencers in my life, joining me for my favorite beverage. We toasted to my good news and I learned Kalli was a cancer survivor, too. She gave me fair warning on what to expect. I only see her on occasion for tune-ups now, but she offered my next session for free – when I was ready. I had a feeling I’d need it.

That weekend was Memorial Day. My brother was in town to meet our niece Kirstin and my dad was back again for a trip that had already been planned. My sisters live in Littleton and Parker. When family visits, I trek to the burbs. This time, I asked Chris and my dad to join me and friends for happy hour in Denver. I wanted my dad to see my world.

I left work early that Friday and by 4p was enjoying a glass of white wine on a hot rooftop bar with my boys. I got to talk with my dad about all that I’d been going through. I told him about the scan and woman in the waiting room. I told him about my friends and how they’d all rallied around me. At one point, he took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. He got to meet some of my closest friends, and he certainly threw a few back! We all did.

Sarah and I had tickets that night to Les Miserables – a show I’ve seen countless times. My mind was racing as I watched and listened to music that makes me so nostalgic. I’d been trying to think of a way to keep people informed. I wasn’t ready to do a blog, but I didn’t want to post anything on Facebook.

Suddenly, I had the best eye-dea. I would create a private Facebook event and invite only my friends and family who were in the know. I’d ask them to wear eye patches the day I had radiation inserted and encourage them to post photos on the event wall. It would be an easy way to keep my support group informed. My favorite song at the time, ironically, was Kenny Chesney’s Pirate Flag. At a barbeque at my sisters that Sunday, I saw a pirate flag in my nephew Peter’s room.

“Pete, can I PLEASE borrow this? Just for a week?” I asked. That’s a lot to ask of a 6 year old. But Peter has a very sweet soul, and he knew something was wrong. He said yes.

I hadn’t seen my brother-in-law Ron since my diagnosis. He has known me since I was 14 years old, so he’s always seen me more as a kid sister than a sister-in-law. We finally had a moment on the back patio to talk over a drink. He asked how I was doing. He told me, “Katie, it is what it is.”