Tuesday, March 7, 2023

Scan 55: NED for me, but breast cancer for my dog

Last Thursday, March 2nd, I had another set of CT scans. For some reason, readings by the radiologists were not completed until today. Dr. Maughan had looked at the images and told me he didn't see anything that concerned him, so I wasn't too worried. But I waited on posting an update until all three readings were posted. Last Friday the abdomen/pelvis scan confirmed no new mets. On Saturday, the neck scan was likewise negative for mets, while observing that my left vocal cord was still frozen (and noting that my nose had been broken at some point in the past 60 years). This evening (Tuesday March 7) the chest reading was posted with the observation:

Similar 0.8 x 1.2 cm subcutaneous soft tissue nodule along the right upper anterior chest wall (series 4, image 16) with central hypoattenuation. This may be postprocedural represent a lymph node. No axillary lymphadenopathy....No thoracic metastases identified.

I'm pretty sure that's referring to the persistent tumor that was irradiated in 2020, but I've emailed Dr. Maughan to confirm. The big takeaway, however, is that none of the scans found any new evidence of disease.

By contrast, my six year old goldendoodle, Cocoa, had a cancerous tumor the size of a golf ball removed from her mammary. She's doing ok recovering from surgery. The doctor thought he got clear margins, so we'll be doing watchful waiting. 

I've been continuing to deal with the consequences of my frozen vocal cord, which was caused by my radiation therapy in 2020. Skiing in deep powder leaves me sucking for air. Last Monday Spencer and I were skiing the Olympic downhill at Snowbasin with 12+ inches of fresh powder, and I simply could not breathe. I stopped halfway down, wheezing, and after I finally caught my breath I blew my nose and was stunned to see bright red mucus from both nostrils. I just can't exchange sufficient oxygen at altitude when making powder jump turns. Three days later I returned and skied the now-groomed downhills with no problems.I'm wondering if I'm going to need a type 1 thyroplasty and arytenoid adduction. I'll closely evaluate the pros and cons before I make a decision. 

My motorcycle group has been planning a trip to southern California this weekend. They are planning on trailering their bikes to St. George and ride from there; however, my trailer is buried under 3 feet of snow at the back of my property. I'd need a helicopter to get that out. So instead, I'm going to Sun Valley and continue to celebrate this awesome snow year.

 

 

3 comments:

  1. Ken, I’ve been following your family’s story for years… I knew Jennifer from Colvin Run. Saw this article in today’s WaPo and thought you’d be interested. Can’t link it but title is “A catatonic woman awakened after 20 years. Her story may change psychiatry.” All the best from GF, VA.

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  2. Can’t tell if my comment went through as I got an error message initially. To repeat- I have been following your saga for years. I’m from GF and knew Jennifer from Colvin Run. I saw this article in WaPo (can’t link it unfortunately) but I thought you would be interested... “A catatonic woman awakened after 20 years. Her story may change psychiatry.”

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  3. Hi Ken, it's been awhile since I commented on your blog, but I'm so glad you're cancer free and doing well. The trip to Europe with your family sounds just wonderful!

    Be careful on that motorcycle. A close friend of mine (very successful Harvard lawyer and owner of FIVE Harleys) just lost his life in the middle of the plains in rural Eastern Colorado last month. A large pickup truck that was pulling a trailer decided to cross a lonely two-lane hwy before Kevin and another motorcyclist reached the intersection. Kevin couldn't stop in time, hit the trailer, and was killed instantly.

    Please be careful.
    Your friend, Renee

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