Today, Neil and I are headed over to the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance to meet with an esteemed doctor who is going to give my case a second look. See what he says. See if they have any alternative ideas for clinical trials, treatments, etc. Not that we have any doubts about my current doctor or my care, but, as a physician friend of mine said, it never hurts to have as many smartypants doctors looking at your case as possible. It's like doing your homework. And--I'm lucky to live in a great town for having this disease. Seattle has some terrific doctors and programs to investigate.
(HA! Add THAT to your roster of nicknames, Seattle! "The Emerald City". "The Jet City". "The Queen City". "CancerTown USA".
I got the SCCA's impressive introduction packet a few weeks ago, but didn't look at it until last night. Looking through this stuff is a DRAG. On top of chemo and everything else, the last thing I feel like doing is reading cancer marketing materials, no matter how empathetically written. You know, hopeful sentences like, "Many cancers are highly curable if they're detected in the early stages." (Great! Wait. I'm stage 4.) (P.S.: There is no Stage 5.) (So! You just let that roll off your back, Shelldogg. Remember: you're your own case study! No one has ever had your exact cancer before! The future is not written yet! Screw the stats!) Let the pep talks roll! Laissez les bon temps roulez!
After the appointment, I think I may roll on down to my sister's restaurant (LITTLE WATER CANTINA in Seattle's Eastlake neighborhood! Check it out.) and drink a stiff margarita or two. Nothing has changed with my health, and in fact now that I've completed three rounds of chemo, I should soon find out that my cancer is again receding-- but just talking about it in depth, play-by-play since Nov '09, can take the wind out of your sails.
All that being said, I feel strong this week, and I'm ready to hear what they tell me. I'm wearing my rhino-skin jacket.