Good News Girl

Last Friday, I had my quarterly bone and CT scans to determine whether or not my cancer has grown or spread anywhere new, like my lungs, liver, or brain. These are my first scans after hitting the 24-month median time to progression that Ibrance studies currently report, so I felt a little anxious that maybe my good run was up. My usual scan buddy was having surgery herself that day, so I headed to the cancer center alone (I'm an introvert, so I don't mind doing that). The only bad part of being alone is that you sit in the waiting room with the predominantly elderly population and listen to them tell all their health horror stories to each other. Kind of depressing.

But I didn't have to do that this time. When they called me back to insert my IV and give me my nuclear medicine injection, they couldn't get the IV to go in. Apparently, my best vein is now full of scar tissue from six years of use and felt to the tech like a brick wall blocking any more needles from coming in. So they moved further down my wrist. They were able to access this vein, but it blew when they injected the saline. So a third tech was called in to see what he could do. He's been able to get my IV in in the past, so we were all hopeful that he could get it.

By this point, 30 minutes into the adventure, I was starting to feel light-headed, like I was going to pass out. I'm not squeamish about needles or blood, but I guess all the poking was too much. So they quickly reclined my chair and got me a drink. and they resumed trying to access a vein. The third tech decided to give the best vein another go, further up from where the first tech had originally tried.

Finally - success! He was able to muscle through the scar tissue and get the IV in! They gave me my injection and the first cup of contrast to drink for my CT scan. Now here is the good part - because I had been feeling poorly after all the poking, they offered to let me stay in the room I was in, with the recliner and TV, instead of going back out to the waiting room for the next 1.5 hours. I had such lovely alone time with a new book; it made up for all the jabbing and the bruises I still have on my arm.

The scans themselves were the easy part. You just lie on the table, they cover you with a warm blanket, and you rest while they take pictures. The past two times, either my doctor or nurse navigator have called the same day with the preliminary results. So I was disappointed that I didn't get a call Friday afternoon. Of course, I knew they wouldn't call on the weekends, so I had to wait until Monday.

But no call Monday. That's okay, I think, I know clinic days are Tuesday and Thursday, so surely Tuesday I will hear something. No call Tuesday. Now I am starting to really worry. I know I have an appointment scheduled for Thursday, but if they're waiting to give me my results in person, there must be bad news. I knew I'd be lucky to go beyond the 24-month median. Looks like the jig is up.

I had a sinking feeling, but I decided to email my nurse navigator just in case. I'd rather read bad news than be hit with it in person. So I hit Send and waited. Finally, Wednesday brought me these words: "Everything looks good."

Whew! Exhale. Sigh with relief. And today at my appointment, my doctor mentioned that there are some women from the original clinical trial who are still progression-free on Ibrance three, or even four, years later. Like I could be one of them. And this wasn't all the good news today. My bloodwork came back amazing. My neutrophils, which is the main one they worry about on this drug, were 2.1! They haven't been above 1.7 since 2015! I feel like a rock star.

This calls for my new shirt, which was waiting for me on my doorstep when I got home from my appointment: