We got some pretty bad news today, as you can guess. I actually kind of don’t remember a lot of today, but I know that I woke up feeling perfectly fine. Eric called me around 9am to see how I was and as I was talking to him, suddenly I couldn’t see right. My vision was flashing, for lack of a better word, and although my eyes were open and I could see vague shapes, I couldn’t actually see anything. It made me severely nauseous and I told Eric I had to go because I needed to throw up. I don’t remember the in between time (SO thankful Brit wasn’t awake yet and that Evan was fully preoccupied with Minion Rush), but I somehow managed to call my clinical trial nurse and she told me to get to the emergency room. You see, this chemo I’m getting can attack your pituitary gland and the symptoms are really similar to the ones I was experiencing. By this point I was developing a severe headache. Eric called me back a few minutes later and I told him he needed to take me to the ER.
When I got there, they gave me an IV and pain meds. Let me tell you, I’m not one to tout narcotics, but dilaudid is the bomb. I slept through a 45 minute MRI! If you’ve ever had one, you know how loud they are and what a feat that is haha. Luckily, I knew the tech who did the MRI and her presence was really comforting, as out of it as I was.
About an hour after the MRI, the ER doctor came in and said my oncologist wanted to talk to me. Yikes, I knew that wasn’t a good sign. So I get on the phone with Dr. A and he breaks the news- they found a tumor in the right side of my brain that he didn’t see being anything besides melanoma. He said he had already run my case by other doctors and set me up a consult with a neurosurgeon tomorrow, he assures me this is the best neurosurgeon on the east coast. The options are surgical removal or gamma knife radiation, that will depend on where it’s located and what the neurosurgeon thinks is best. My appointment with him is tomorrow at 12:45.
This whole day feels like a dream. I was so out of it and in pain and nauseous and drugged up that it all seems like a blur. It was bizarre from start to finish. I’ve never heard my oncologist sound so concerned, even a little distraught, and to have the ER doctor and nurses telling me they’ll pray for me was just odd. Appreciated, but odd.
My oncologist is someone who just doesn’t get worked up about things, he’s definitely a “wait and see” type, but he was certain, he said I was stage 4 and that he was sure this was cancer. It just doesn’t seem real…