Let’s start with a recap. I had a scoping procedure done a few weeks back, to find out why I was having trouble swallowing. At the clinic, the doctor found a “mass”, as he put it; he took a biopsy; and he booked me for more tests. The results were scary: I have a malignant tumour in my esophagus, just above my stomach.
More tests were ordered – namely, a PET scan and an MRI – to find out whether the cancer had spread to distal parts of the body. In particular, based on the CT scan and the usual course of the disease, there was a real worry that the adenocarcinoma could already be in my brain, my liver, and/or my lymph nodes. If such metastasis had occurred, it seemed the question was how soon I would die of cancer, not whether I would die of cancer.
The promising news is that the tests came back negative for such spreading. True, it looks like the esophageal cancer, via direct contact, has moved into a small part of the stomach. However, that kind of contagion is much less worrisome than when the cancerous cells disperse through either the blood stream or the lymphatic system. There were no signs of the latter, however.
Given this promising result, the game plan going forward is: 1) Chemotherapy and radiation in the fall, likely in October and November. 2) More tests immediately thereafter, including especially another PET (Positron Emission Tomography) scan, to determine how effective the treatments were – both in shrinking the main tumour, and in killing off any rogue cancer cells circulating elsewhere. 3) Rest and recovery for about six weeks, to get my strength back. The likely final step will be 4) surgery to remove the remaining growths from my lower esophagus and stomach.
I say ‘likely’ because… On the one hand, if I understood the lead doctor correctly yesterday, in 10% of cases, the tumours essentially disappear after chemo/radiation (yippee!). On the other hand, it’s not entirely unheard of that the cancer spreads widely even while chemo/radiation is ongoing, to such a degree that operating becomes pointless.
Long story short: Where not safely out of hot water yet. And I’ve got some tough months ahead of me. Nonetheless, this fundamentally changes the game from “slow the disease down, and keep poor Rob alive a few years longer” to “cure the f***ing cancer altogether”.
A parting thought. This is a blog about my Bipolar Disorder, so I didn’t want to end without addressing how I am doing symptom-wise. It’s really weird: I feel fine. One would think that a person with Bipolar, facing such uncertainty, and so many hurdles immediately ahead, would be both very sad and very afraid. For now, however, that’s just not the case. Instead, I’m feeling grateful that the things I worried about missing out on – my daughters getting married, finishing up some academic projects, doing more fishing trips with friends, travels with Anita, etc., etc. – may still be in the offing after all.