My body is fighting a war, good cells against bad cells. It is being fought on multiple fronts.
There is the cancer. We learned that when I had my second surgery in July (to repair the anastomosis that was bleeding) they removed another microscopic tumor. Too small for the surgeons to see. Too small for the pathologists to see. Only under the microscope, going through cell by cell, did they discover it. This confirms what we and the medical team suspected and assumed: We will be fighting this war for the rest of my life, as tiny tumors sneakily grow. This doesn’t change our management plan; we will still wait and watch, carefully. There is no chemotherapy for my situation. No remission for this kind of cancer. So we will be always at the ready, vigilant and aware, to do what we can to keep it at bay.
Continue reading “The Next Battle”
As Anne mentioned in her last post, we were back at HUP today to find out the source of the abdominal pain and nausea she’s been having since Monday. They did a CT scan and discovered several small abscesses with fluid collections. They followed that up with an ultrasound that showed the collections to be tubo-ovarian abscesses, probably caused by exposure to bacteria from the surgery or from the insertion of the previous drains. This is a fairly rare type of abscess to have after a surgery like Anne’s, and the surgical team is working with the gynecology department to figure out the best way to deal with it. Unlike the last abscess they found, these ones do not seem to be reachable for drainage, so the plan for now is to admit Anne into the hospital and have antibiotics administered by IV here at the hospital for a few days, then re-evaluate based on whether the infections respond to the antibiotics.
It’s frustrating and tiring to have yet another complication; Anne’s surgeon says that he has never had another patient with this many complications after this kind of surgery. We’re learning to take it a day at a time, a moment at a time, but we’re not always great at it. I think we sometimes make it sound like we’ve got it all figured out. We don’t. We get grumpy at each other, annoyed at the odd unhelpful nurse, glum about all the setbacks. But we pray, and we read Scripture, and we turn to our friends, and we try to make each other laugh, and we let the Lord lift us up again. And tonight, we’re doing OK. God is still good, and we know we are loved.