Wheel of Fortune
Last week's scheduled evaluation led to a pass to the next round of the clinical trial, so I made the next block of hotel reservations, and prepared to return to Cleveland this Monday past for the first treatment of Round 8. My friend and sister M volunteered to drive so we could catch up after a couple of weeks without time together. Last Friday I settled down on the couch with Marmaduke and my knitting to watch the Opening Ceremony of the Olympics, and realized to my horror that I couldn't comprehend a simple pattern and translate it into knitting stitches.
Then I tried to make some written notes on a photocopy so I could reduce my planned project packet to a more manageable size and leave a book behind. I couldn't write in a straight line and I couldn't control my handwriting. By this time I was thoroughly spooked, and sent an email to Dr. G to notify him of my concerns. As I was heading up anyway, we scheduled an additional appointment for an MRI of the brain, something that we hadn't done for some time.
Late Monday afternoon we completed the scan and returned to Dr. G's office for the results.
I am now off the clinical trial, as we discovered several lesions on the brain with attendant swelling that was causing my cognitive problems. I was immediately admitted to the Cleveland Clinic Hospital to start steroid therapy to reduce the edema in the brain, and for consultations with neurology and radiation oncology specialists on Tuesday. M's husband the valiant Mr. C battled a raging snowstorm to bring Saint H and sister C2 to Cleveland. We traded family members, and Saint H and C2 settled in at the hotel for the consultation results.
Tuesday I spoke with neurosurgeon Dr. LA and radiation oncologist Dr. Sam C, and we charted our next move: I'm scheduled tomorrow, Thursday, for a gamma knife procedure, an all-day funfest starting at 7:30 a.m. and ending who knows when?
I'm comforted to know that Cleveland Clinic has been doing this since 1997, and Dr. LA has done some 300 procedures and works closely with RCC patients. I'm surprised and somewhat startled that this is done on an outpatient basis - I stayed in the hospital on Dr. G's orders to avoid having to go home and return in a snowstorm and to get started on therapy as quickly as possible. I was discharged, moved into the hotel, and have enjoyed the time intervening with my dearest boy and my dearest friends.
I miss my cats, I miss my house, I miss sleeping in my own bed. I expect I won't get home until Friday due to the observation period required after the procedure.
I don't know what comes next. I consider myself lucky - we were able to take quick action and I'm in excellent hands. I know several folks who have gone through the procedure and done just fine, and I'm expecting to do just fine myself. I'm not looking forward to the expected headaches and the imposed immobility for however long the procedure takes.
I know the chances of survival with good results from this procedure are impressive; as I told Dr. LA, "I like your odds for me better than mine."
So I hope soon to be able to tell you what this turn of the wheel involves. Spare a good thought for me.
Then I tried to make some written notes on a photocopy so I could reduce my planned project packet to a more manageable size and leave a book behind. I couldn't write in a straight line and I couldn't control my handwriting. By this time I was thoroughly spooked, and sent an email to Dr. G to notify him of my concerns. As I was heading up anyway, we scheduled an additional appointment for an MRI of the brain, something that we hadn't done for some time.
Late Monday afternoon we completed the scan and returned to Dr. G's office for the results.
I am now off the clinical trial, as we discovered several lesions on the brain with attendant swelling that was causing my cognitive problems. I was immediately admitted to the Cleveland Clinic Hospital to start steroid therapy to reduce the edema in the brain, and for consultations with neurology and radiation oncology specialists on Tuesday. M's husband the valiant Mr. C battled a raging snowstorm to bring Saint H and sister C2 to Cleveland. We traded family members, and Saint H and C2 settled in at the hotel for the consultation results.
Tuesday I spoke with neurosurgeon Dr. LA and radiation oncologist Dr. Sam C, and we charted our next move: I'm scheduled tomorrow, Thursday, for a gamma knife procedure, an all-day funfest starting at 7:30 a.m. and ending who knows when?
I'm comforted to know that Cleveland Clinic has been doing this since 1997, and Dr. LA has done some 300 procedures and works closely with RCC patients. I'm surprised and somewhat startled that this is done on an outpatient basis - I stayed in the hospital on Dr. G's orders to avoid having to go home and return in a snowstorm and to get started on therapy as quickly as possible. I was discharged, moved into the hotel, and have enjoyed the time intervening with my dearest boy and my dearest friends.
I miss my cats, I miss my house, I miss sleeping in my own bed. I expect I won't get home until Friday due to the observation period required after the procedure.
I don't know what comes next. I consider myself lucky - we were able to take quick action and I'm in excellent hands. I know several folks who have gone through the procedure and done just fine, and I'm expecting to do just fine myself. I'm not looking forward to the expected headaches and the imposed immobility for however long the procedure takes.
I know the chances of survival with good results from this procedure are impressive; as I told Dr. LA, "I like your odds for me better than mine."
So I hope soon to be able to tell you what this turn of the wheel involves. Spare a good thought for me.
Labels: appointment results, clinical trial, friends/family, hospitalization
posted by rcclive at
12:28 AM
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