It ain't good, folks. Wife has cancer. But I am sober.

AZ_Infantry

AZ_Infantry

Active member
It ain't good, folks. Wife has cancer. UPDATE PAGE 2

Long post ahead. Tired eyes beware. And, yes, this thread is about my personal real life. I know that meets with disapproval from many, so feel free to click that funny little link of your choice that navigates you away from this particular thread and carry on.

My wife's results are in, and she has cancer. This thread is to keep you all updated on the happenings if you are interested. Consider it my outlet thread, not a whining thread, please. I'm sure I will have my bouts of whining, but...

One thing to know before this seeming dissertation erupts is that, 32 days ago, I gave up the bottle. No VA, no help. Just decided I was tired of it. Now I know why God gave me such peace in my decision.

Most of you know that I could be facing the same thing, but thus far everything seems to be checking out with me. I have another test upcoming, but they believe the problem "down there" with me is a non-prolapsing hemorrhoid that is pretty easy to remove. I guess that can cause severe testicle pain. <shrug> I am no doctor.

My wife, unfortunately, has not fared so well. In a way, this has made our relationship stronger than it ever has been. We used to treat our marriage as granted - we've both done our share of walking away from each other only to come back. It's different this time, but not for the cancer reasons alone. There has been a spiritual change in both of us of almost epic proportions, and we are both completely floored by the severity of the transition. Both of us believe that God has His hand in this; that offends the sensibilities of some here, and that is ok to just agree to disagree and leave it at that. For us, there are far too many coincidences to assign random chance to the situation. For those of you who believe in Jesus, you understand when I say that we are just 100% convicted that He has, once again, shown us that His plan does not always happen in our time desires. For those that do not or choose not to understand, the only way I can describe it is as if some force opened our eyes to truths we should have known but subconsciously chose to repress.

Tough times make for tough people, I guess. But even the toughest man needs an outlet, and you all, be it fortunately or unfortunately depending on your give-a-damn meter, are it.

Fifteen years ago, Brandy was diagnosed with uterine cancer-positive polyps. This means, basically, the simplest form of cancer: the polyps are growths inside the uterine tract or the uterus itself, and they snip those off to test them in an outpatient surgery. It is little different than is a colonoscopy in terms of a little snake thingy with a camera they insert up your... well, you know. This one has a small set of shears and *SNIP* and off goes the polyp. They remove suspected ones and test others to ensure they are benign (cancer free) and that it that. Catching cancer early enough results in this procedure.

Brandy's, unfortunately, is back with a ferocity. She gets regular tests every six months, the last being six months ago almost to the date. It was positive. The last was negative. It took everyone by complete surprise.

Over the past few months, she's been undergoing further testing. This is a huge part of why she left me, though unbeknown to me at the time - she couldn't handle the stress of that coupled with living with a drunk any longer. For those speculating, that is not the reason I got sober a month ago. That was for me and only me. But I am blessed to be over one month sober and here for the woman I love more than life itself. That Brandy is also a recovering alcoholic/addict only adds to the timing and importance of support of my decision.

Anyway, the identifying battery of tests concluded Sunday with her final CT Scans and X-Rays and all that other crap. I've spent more time in waiting rooms at the VA (Veterans Administration) than I have at home this last month, it seems (not true, just seems like it). Here is the verdict in, as far as we know right now, its totality:

Brandy's cancer is again uterine. Cancer of the uterus. She will be going in for a full hysterectomy, which is different than a partial as they remove the ovaries, as well. The good news with that is that she will avoid early menopause, which is not the joke us men make about it (Brandy is 35). Imagine someone cutting off your testicles, guys, and you losing all your testosterone-making ability. And that is the bad news: because they have to remove her ovaries, she can never make estrogen again, meaning she'll be on estrogen treatment for life. She's already had a tubular, so there isn't even any good news for me about unprotected sex - we've been having that since we met.

Unfortunately, the bad news didn't stop there. Sunday's tests positively concluded the following in the next post, as this is too long for a single post:
 
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Brandy has one Left Ileum Lymph Node that is definitely metastatic and metabolic. Put into medical-for-dummies vernacular, metastatic cancer means a cancer that began somewhere else, entered the blood stream and "made" new cancer elsewhere. In her case, it began as a recurrence (came back) of her uterine cancer from fifteen years ago and then spread through the blood to create a polyp in her Ileum (basically, the end of the small intestine). Ileum cancer has five types, each of differing severity, and we don't know which type yet because we have been flooded with information we've gotten confused on. For instance, there is Ilium and Ileum cancer, which we were originally unaware of and researched only Ilium cancer, and they aren't even close to the same: the Ilium is your hip/pelvic bone, whereas the Ileum is the small bowel.

There is also another lymph node they identified that, due to the swelling inside of Brandy because of the Conical Biopsy she had, could be metastatic (more spreading) or reactive (inflamed due to the internal swelling). We won't know about that one until the 29th, which I'll discuss next.

Like me, my wife is a veteran of the United States Army. In America, for those civilians who may not know here, a veteran of any military branch who receives a discharge that is NOT dishonorable is given free medical care for life through the Veterans Administration hospital system. There are restrictions to this care such as vision and dental stuff, but this isn't the thread for those here.

Now, in some things the VA is top notch. Their mental health experts are highly rated, for instance, as are their substance abuse success rates. Their cancer center, frankly, leaves much to be desired. I do not trust the VA to handle my wife's case, and we've been pushing for a non-VA clinic that the VA will pay for. And we got it.

As of last Sunday, the VA is out and the University of Texas Southwestern is in. We have an appointment there on the 29th in which they will give us a much deeper understanding of EXACTLY what Brandy "has" and the time line for the procedures she will undergo. At the very least, we're looking at a full hysterectomy and one month of radiation treatment. Unfortunately, that is the least likely scenario.

Because this is a recurrence, and because it is metastatic, and because it is metabolic (been absorbed into the blood stream) and because at least one other polyp is affected, we're likely looking at a very serious... invasion? I don't know what else to call it. It feels like my heart has been invaded. It feels like Brandy's body has been invaded. It feels like life itself invaded the harmony we work and pray for, the happiness we all wish for and seem to so seldom get. What this means to us we don't yet know. The doctors are less than forthcoming, which I can understand: the sensitivity incurred when one hears "cancer" shouldn't be something doctors bitty over with their patients, filling their heads with speculation and what-if scenarios. Still, the idiom of not knowing being the worse position is true in this case. We want to know, and we want to know now. One of the biggest things we both hated about the military was their hurry up and wait policy. Neither of us minds hurrying, as we work great under pressure. Waiting? Not so much so.

One thing is for certain, and that is that Brandy and I and our family are never going to be the same. Once cancer recurs, there is NO way of ever completely removing it. Once it is metabolized, you always have it. Whether or not it remains in a stasis state of dormancy is another thing, but you can no more cure it than we can cure diabetes.

Saturday, the day before Brandy's final VA tests, we sat the kids down with her ex-husband, their biological father, and explained what we knew. We haven't said anything about the new news, and we won't until I am satisfied I have full disclosure and a complete prognosis from the oncology team, the OBGYN and her primary care physician.

Thankfully, Paul, Brandy's ex and the kids' biological father, is here in Texas and is caring for the kids for us. They live here on the property, but Brandy lives in my house and they in hers. It's help that is both very much needed and very much appreciated. That he expressed a desire to be a part of his kids' lives again, completely ignorant of Brandy's condition, is yet one more "coincidence" to the slew of factors that have come together to strengthen this family to go through this together. Sadly, they haven't fully accepted his return with the fervor he had hoped and tend to take advantage of his kindness and desire to integrate slowly, forcing me to still be the discipline monster of the village coalition.

I can say it here, but I'll never let on to Brandy: I am tired. Physically, emotionally and spiritually just exhausted. I am thankful I have here as an escape.

All in all, it could be far worse. Not by much, but just when you think you have it bad... well, someone out there is suffering far worse. As I mentioned earlier, Brandy and I are trying to stay positive in that our new-found strength is bonded by trials we'd never wish to go through alone. There is more love in this family than I could ever describe, a love that no one ever could describe despite their prowess as a wordsmith.

For those of you that pray, please pray for His will for this family. For those that do not, please keep us in your thoughts and well-wishes.

I'm willing to try and answer any questions or clarify anything to anyone who is interested. Otherwise, I'll just be updating information as we get it. If anyone else out there is going through this, please feel free to send me a PM - I am never too tired to support friends. We get wide shoulders in the Infantry. I have no problem giving out my phone number or, if you're a female and wish to support Brandy directly, her's as long as I speak with you first (I am very protective of those I cherish).

Thanks to you all and this site for allowing me a place to just sit and chat. I know everything will work out, but beating back the fears takes an energy I find myself in short supply of these days. As stated, question or comments are welcome. If you took the time to read this, then thank you.

"What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain..."

Edna St. Vincent Millay, What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why (Sonnet XLIII)
 
Damn!

AZ, I had to read your post twice and I still don´t know what to say.
My thoughts are with you and your wife and I can only express it like this:

“Do you believe in angels? The kind that heaven sends,
Tonight you are surrounded by angels. To you, they are known as friends.”

And you have many friends here.
Although we don´t know each other personally, then the fact that you and your wife have worn uniforms makes you two my brother and sister. So whenever you feel a need to talk, I´ll listen.

So, soldiers - keep on fighting.
Sincerely, Chris
 
These happenings make me feel physically ill, and although they are occurring too often, I never have managed to work out what to say.

So I guess I'll say very little, but you do know that both Shirl and I are thinking of you both, we send our love and encouragement, hoping that it may offer some small comfort to you in the times ahead.
 
Hi, AZ Infantry. Please consider, if you have not done it already, to take some time to browse through the complex site of the MD Anderson Cancer Center. There's lots of information, even books & blogs to read. I am linking one page which has support links for patients & their families. Although the diagnosis is serious, do not lose hope. One lymph node is just one lymph node. It does not mean metastasis. The doctors will stage the cancer more precisely once they do all the necessary tests.

In regards to your internal hemorrhoid surgery...I hear it is a piece of cake ! My grandmother had this type of surgery done when she was 80 years old, and she was literally back on her feet and in her beloved kitchen the next day. But then she was a really tough lady. I don't know about you...just kidding here a little, hoping you can take it.

Also, since you mentioned a problem with alcohol, and since these are really stressful times, I say it wouldn't hurt, if you agree with this concept, to try to find an AA sponsor of your own. AA groups could be a bit too tiring or overwhelming in your current situation, but try to give them a call to see how you can get about getting a sponsor. And if the first one doesn't feel like a "good fit", which is always a possibility, as some of them may kind of repressed not very touchy feely mothering or supportive type of guys, don't give up on them, try to find another.

If you have any other questions or thoughts, don't hesitate to write about them right here. We are here for you.
 
Everyone,

I cannot tell you how much the support means to both Brandy and to myself. I've been a member here for, oh, almost 4 years now, and I have never failed to see all the discontent we sometimes share disappear in a flurry of support and love when one of our own faces something in real life.

It may seem strange to some -- how can you worship a god who let this happen to your most cherished thing in life? -- but we are in good spirits through lots and lots of prayer and a good helping of levity. We have a little running joke: when something isn't going right, we'll look at each other and, in unison, say, "Hey, it could be worse. It could be cancer!" It's what helps us get through.



roamsk said:
Hi, AZ Infantry. Please consider, if you have not done it already, to take some time to browse through the complex site of the MD Anderson Cancer Center. There's lots of information, even books & blogs to read. I am linking one page which has support links for patients & their families. Although the diagnosis is serious, do not lose hope. One lymph node is just one lymph node. It does not mean metastasis. The doctors will stage the cancer more precisely once they do all the necessary tests.

In regards to your internal hemorrhoid surgery...I hear it is a piece of cake ! My grandmother had this type of surgery done when she was 80 years old, and she was literally back on her feet and in her beloved kitchen the next day. But then she was a really tough lady. I don't know about you...just kidding here a little, hoping you can take it.

Also, since you mentioned a problem with alcohol, and since these are really stressful times, I say it wouldn't hurt, if you agree with this concept, to try to find an AA sponsor of your own. AA groups could be a bit too tiring or overwhelming in your current situation, but try to give them a call to see how you can get about getting a sponsor. And if the first one doesn't feel like a "good fit", which is always a possibility, as some of them may kind of repressed not very touchy feely mothering or supportive type of guys, don't give up on them, try to find another.

If you have any other questions or thoughts, don't hesitate to write about them right here. We are here for you.
Click to expand...

Roam, I do have a few things to address specifically with you, if'n you don't mind.

First, my sobriety isn't even in question. I went through an inpatient treatment program for alcoholism, also through the VA, and graduated about 18 months ago. I started drinking again, obviously, but I think I wasn't fully committed the first time. I was homeless, and ending that was, subconsciously, my priority. But I still have contact with all my AA peers, my sponsor, and all the therapists, counselors, etc. in that hospital. I know this time is different because this time it feels different. I had no reason to stop drinking this time. I just decided to.

Next, we are putting in a consult for MD Anderson. I have heard nothing but excellent things about them, and if U of T will approve it, I'd prefer she go there.

Now, I have a few questions that I would appreciate help with.

We were told by the VA team that it WAS metastatic. That it began in her uterus and had spread to her ileum. They didn't leave any room for doubt there. The doubt was the second polyp - it is not yet known if it is reactive or metastatic because Brandy is still swollen from her conical biopsy

We were also told that, in addition, the cancer was metabolic.

Now, after a good deal of research, I understand this to mean that Brandy has cancer in her uterus and in her ileum; that metastatic means that it has already spread (the one positive polyp in her ileum); and that metabolic meant that it was in her blood stream. Am I reading that wrong? It's all medical mumbo jumbo to me.

Anyone who can shed any light on what this all means... it would sure be appreciated.
 
God bless you both, AZ. I'm glad you have your faith to lean on. And don't forget to avail yourselves of all of the services and help that the American Cancer Society has to offer. They are wonderful!

You're both in my prayers.
 
Mr AZ, I may not know you that well. but I supposed members of this forum are like a bunch of siblings that we all have...

Be strong. Thats easy for me to say, I know it may not be easy for you to do. Have faith in yourself, and always remember that you have one another- you and your wife...

My thoughts and prayers with you...
 
Yes, AZ, the doctors may be right, ideed it may be metastatic if another tumor which was confirmed as cancerous was found at another secondary site (the ileum). It was probably my mistake when I first read your post that I had understood that only a lymph node was found outside. Cancer is habitually staged according to the TNM classification, where T= size or direct extent of the primary tumor, N= degree of spread to the regional lymph nodes, M= presence of distant metastases.

You can read more in depth about the TNM for various types of cancers here, but please be patient, because it is rather confusing and possibly complicated, and DO trust your doctors, because Southwestern & especially MD Anderson are very very reputable, world renown, alongside, I guess, Sloan Kettering in NYC.

Also, it may be worthwhile to research a little some institutions which may have some specific logstanding expertise in specific types of cancers, like Mass General in Boston for gynecological cancers, and may also be involved in research. Ongoing research protocols may be found at ClinicalTrials.gov.

The notion of "metabolic cancer" was something somewhat new to me, so I am not sure whether the doctors using it were referring to the relatively recent metabolic theory of cancer causation (in which cancer cells' "breathing", usage of oxygen= metabolism is abnormal, usually genetically abnormal), or to the actual aggressiveness of the cancer, or to the responsiveness of the cancer to some specific types of treatments. I am leaning towards thinking that the doctors may have mentioned it to you specifically because they might have been thinking about some ongoing specific possible tretaments: either etiological (that try to go directly to causation), or adjunctive (supplementary treatments in addition to the classical surgery, chemo, radiation therapy) treatments that are being used these days taking into account this metabolic theory.

You must remember that Oncology is an extrordinarily fast evolving field in medicine, and treatments which may not have been available 12 months ago may already be on the table these days or in the next few months.

Do NOT be afraid to ASK, ASK & ASK, even if you or your wife may feel anxious that someone might consider you a "pesky", or "difficult" patient. You MUST allow yourself to be as "selfish" as possible in this current battle you are both facing. Because it IS a battle and the cancer IS the enemy. Allow yourselves to be emotional, nasty, irritable, desperate, etc. by it, as it comes.

It may be possible that you and your wife might respond in different ways, or in different "stages" to the illness, and may feel at times that you are not on the "same page", but don't let this be a wedge between the two of you. Make some time, if need be, for scheduled "strategy talks" in which you can allow yourselves to communicate to one another what your thoughts & emotions are, and what your own ideas on what to do next is, and try to let her speak her mind, then speak your mind, then, if possible reach a compromise, as you go from one stage to the next. Just like brainstorming sessions in a war room.

But don't let the "war room" time dominate 24 h/24 h of your time together. That is why I was actually suggesting allowing specific scheduled times for such "strategy talks". Schedule separate time for just doing fun or nice pleasant relaxing things together or for one another too, without, if at all possible, trying to think about the cancer, even though it may still be there in the back of your minds, and this is normal.

I applaud you for your discipline in your fight against addiction. Disciplined & highly conscientious people have a hard time sometimes allowing themselves to grieve for themselves. Allow time for yourself alone as much as you need it. Ask permission from your wife for such times during one of your "strategy planning" sessions, even if or especially if you feel a little guilty about it.

And do not ever feel guilty about being angry at GOD, if you feel like it, (even if you feel/believe/think it was Him who has helped you in your life and tribulations until now, and you want to continue having Him as an ally in this battle too), because I assure you He can take it. That is actually, IMHO, His job, in one of His roles, (if you will permit me), as Father or Parent of all of us his human children: to be Mature and to be able to take it when you or I get mad, angry, resentful at Him.
 
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P.S. I know you may also worry a bit about the children, about their needs & emotions. Your wife will surely worry about them too, and you should allow her to speak about this if she brings it up during "war room" time, or wishes to bring them along or talk about them instead of talking about her & you during some your scheduled relaxing times together. Remember and gently remind her too, if it seems appropriate or protective towards her own personal needs, that children were especially constructed as such by both G-d & mother Nature to be more resilient & flexible-adaptable than us adults over 26-28 years of age.

I do not know how old exactly they are, but, IMHO, even if they may first temporarily feel the whole arrangement may be a "disruption", (because children in general love & thrive on stability), they are in fact fortunate to have two fathers working "in shifts" to help along & a mother. Sure, they are anxious & distressed too because of the real monster of their mother's severe illness, but it is also the responsibility of their biological father to help them along, find some support groups or activities for them, schedule time with mom, etc. For them ultimately, in the long run, this is a maturing & learning experience. (I know this may sound a bit "cold", but I was thinking of the very long run of their future lives as future mature adults, not of the immediate crisis moment.)
 
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AZ,

My prayers are with you and your family. I would also like to let you know that I'm very appreciative that you would share your story with this forum. Yes, He works in mysterious ways-through each of us.
God bless you and your family. You are all very lucky to have the love you share together. I wish you peace and hope.
 
OK, we finally got some more information.

Brandy's cancer is Stage III Metastatic Cervical/Uterine (Invasive Adenoendocervical) Cancer with Cervical Dysplasia (Invasive Carcinoma) , including one questionable Left Iliac Lymph Node. She will be having a Total Radical Hysterectomy followed by Chemo and then PET/CT to follow up with the questionable Left Iliac Lymph Node.

This time, in English:

Brandy has cervical cancer that has spread to her uterus wall (Dysplasia) and then "burrowed" itself deep into the uterine cell structure. It used to be there, it went away, it came back, it spread, it burrowed deeper into her.

Adenoendocervical means Adeno (cell type) + Endo (within) + Cervical (location).

Metastatic can mean that it came back or that it has moved. It means both in her case.

Stage III is one of five stages (beginning with 0) that are not progressive. In other words, Stage III cancer is always Stage III cancer, even if it moves, morphs or kills you.

***

Brandy will have a Total Radical Hysterectomy. This means they will remove the Cervix, Uterus, Fallopian Tubes and Ovaries.

While doing so, they will remove the suspected Left Iliac Lymph Node (depending on any further damage uncovered during the surgery).

She'll have at least 2 to 5 nights in the hospital (I will be there with her in a private room) and at LEAST 6 weeks recovery, then the chemo, then more testing - IF everything inside is what it seems like from the imaging results thus far.

What scares the crap out of me is that the nurse said, and I quote, "The doctor has to make sure that it isn't so advanced that surgery will make it worse, but so far it looks like surgery is a go." That was her answer to my, "Is it in her bloodstream and spreading, and will this surgery stop it?"

Let me put that into the only words I know how to: "It could be that it is so advanced that we'd have to gut her like a fish and kill her to remove it."

:(

We're just a little numb right now. So many questions answered, so many new ones in their stead. So much anxiety relieved, so much yet to deal with.

I will say this:

Thus far, I am thoroughly impressed with The University of Texas Southwestern. They are 180 degrees opposite the VA in a very good way. The nurse was extremely charming, answered every question she could for us, and just generally impressed the hell out of us. We had her on the phone every moment of 45 minutes.

They are listed as the Number One hospital in Dallas, and thus far are completely living up to that reputation in spades. That they are going to give us a private room and let me stay overnight there with the VA paying for it is just fantastic.

Hopefully I'll have much more info on the 29th. Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers.
 
My friend; both of you are in my thoughts and prayers. I hope and wish that she will pull through and you two will spend many more years together.
 
UPDATE

30 Sep update -

Those of you keeping up with this blog are already aware that yesterday, the 29th, was the "big day" for Brandy and I, the day where we met with the actual surgeon at the University of Texas Southwestern to discuss all the details of the procedure and prognosis. Those of you just getting involved are hereby informed :)

It didn't go off as we expected, but I will try and keep the steps we went through as concise as possible (go ahead and snicker at me ever being concise; I'll wait). You could just skip to the end, but you may end up confused as there has been some misunderstanding and the only real way to explain those errors is to at least touch on the steps within the visit itself.

To begin, I have to offer my absolute endorsement of UT Southwestern. I cannot remember a hospital in which I or anyone was treated with such dignity, professionalism and tact. They were friendly and warm, never once sighed at our simpleton questions, and were completely forthcoming. Because I am used to working with the VA, I research everything so that I am ready for the runaround and the ensuing lecture to the so-called doctor to stop BS'ing us. That was never an issue at UT, and her surgeon even applauded us for being so educated on the matter. We were not lied to once that I can tell, and Brandy's doctor even admitted to a few questions she had no answers for - a far, far cry from the know-it-all's at the VA.

After completing all the financial rigmarole (with an actual person in an actual one-on-one explanation session in a private room that covered every detail) we were whisked off for the standard visit precursors: height and weight; pain scale assessment; medical history screening; blood pressure, pulse and temperature; and information of that type. That was done by the Physician's Assistant (PA), who seemed to be a nice enough lady sans her smoking lectures. Lecturing Brandy is one thing. I am a 40-year old Infantry veteran and don't need lifestyle lectures from a would-be, want-to-be doctor when we are there to discuss gutting my wife like a fish. The lady, as I said, was nice enough. She simply lacked tact in some areas.

After that and another nurse visit and finishing more paperwork, we saw the surgeon (I also refer to her as the oncologist and Dr. Kehoe, so accept those terms interchangeably, please).

Pause for an inappropriate comment. I love Brandy with everything I am, and straying is never something my personal honor would ever allow me to do. But Dr. Kehoe is hot. I'm not sure what my subconscious envisioned her as, but a mid-30 shazaam specimen of the female curvature with an alluring smile wasn't it, obviously. After surreptitiously absconding with a few paper towels and blotting up the small puddle of drool that had fallen from the corners of my agape jaw, I caught hold of my facilities and was able to continue.

The first thing she admitted to, a welcome reprieve to the narcissistic nature of the VA's doctors, is that the tests we'd already been through were not comprehensive enough for her to make an absolute determination as to exactly how invasive the surgery needs to be. She said, and I am quoting from memory here, "My heart tells me that we will be proceeding with a Total Radical Hysterectomy, but without further testing there is just no way to tailor your procedure to be the very best for you, and that's what I want to do before we operate."

Yay, doc. Points for that. I should show my gratitude by taking her fishing sometime.

What? I have two sleeping bags.

Dr. Kehoe also clarified all the cancer-specific terminology, but it all matched my research I have already annotated here, so there is no need for redundancy. The end verdict remains the same: definitive sub-cell cancer of the uterus and a possible "second" cancer area around the left iliac area, specifically the left ileum (the ileum is your pelvic bone, and the top is called the iliac crest).

After that came the dreaded exam. This is going to be a bit graphic, so if female anatomy and procedure makes you squeamish, look away now.

Brandy has been complaining of some pretty severe pain "down there" and has been bleeding from her rectum pretty badly since the LEEP biopsy (conical biopsy, but of the type in which they cauterize while they cut versus a cold cut and then cauterization). She's also been severely bloated, and has some edema (water retention) in her legs and her belly. In all, she has gained 26 pounds in two months, the majority of it since the LEEP (Loop Electrosurgical Excision Procedure).

The doctor gloved up and in she went. She did a visual inspection, a tactile (feeling) examination of first the vagina, and then the ****, and then both at the same time, and finished with yet another biopsy (a simple one with the clipper thingies). By that time, Brandy was fighting back the tears and losing the battle and had a death grip on my hand that -- I kid you not, people -- hurt the hell out of these hands that have been working construction for over 20 years. She was in pain, and badly.

Again, accolades to the doctor and nurse here. The way they spoke to Brandy was just about as warm and concerned as I have ever heard from anyone. And they were kind to me, as well, as I guess I was showing some distress at Brandy being in all that pain regardless of the poker face I was doing my damnedest to keep on. The VA doesn't even allow me in the same room when these exams are going on, much less behind their curtain of secrecy they refer to as the patient privacy screen. Dillweeds. Have I mentioned how glad I a UT is doing this?

[Pssst, guys: mystery solved. Yes, a doctor can be sexy when she's fondling your wife downstairs. I really need to express my gratitude with dinner.

OK, what?]

Alright, joking aside, here are the findings:

Brandy has a pretty bad infection in her vaginal track and cervix due to the LEEP biopsy (again, up yours, VA. I will be writing some people). Before we can even do anything, she needs a one-week regime of antibiotics to clear that infection up, as she is so internally swollen that the oncologist can't even see everything she needs to see, much less isolate the one possible iliac polyp.

During that time, the doctor wants more blood work and a PET scan just to see what else the VA missed. The PET scan has to be done after the week of antibiotics, but the labs have to be done today. Sigh. Back to the VA, as they (the VA) didn't approve extra testing. Of course they didn't - it's just my wife's life, so why let red tape and paperwork and bureaucracy rule the day? Millions of coffee breaks are counting on it. Grrrrr.

Sorry...

The surgeon feels strongly that the tests will only verify what she thinks, that we need to proceed with the Total Radical Hysterectomy. So we have scheduled that as early as possible -- all swelling and infection has to be gone, lest a surgical mistake happen due to the tissue being "wrong" -- which is the week of the 17th (2.5 weeks). She again made sure that we knew that all of this was tentative, as she is going to alter whatever she feels she needs to in order to preserve Brandy's best interests. I respect the HELL out of that.

So, blood work. Start antibiotics today. PET scan in 7 days. If nothing new pops up, surgery on the week of the 17th.

After that comes the scary part:

When the doc guts her, she is going to remove every polyp she can find (usually in the 17 to 20 range, she said, as there is no realistic way to get them all). Those and all of Brandy's insides get shipped off for further testing, which will give us the knowledge to judge whether or not we need chemo or further surgery.

We have the option of leaving the ovaries or having them removed IF -- the big if again; sigh -- the tests don't reveal anything more... dire. <shudder> If we can, and if we decide to, and if the doc is able to follow through during surgery, she (the doc) will move one ovary to the back in order to (hopefully) shield it from any radiation/chemo treatments and preserve its function to make estrogen.

It is those tests, combined with next week's PET scan, that will offer us the extent of the invasive direction and power this crap has. The doctor was very adamant that because Brandy is only 36 and is in good health, the prognosis is excellent. That may be a little too optimistic for my cynical nature when it comes to doctors, but I am doing my best to offer this one as much trust and latitude as I can with my positive initial impressions of her.

So that's where we're at today - a holding pattern, the waiting game, circle the wagons and watch for dust on the horizon, the sounds of incoming. Bah.

Dr. Kehoe even said as much: "I know that your response to all this is typical: 'Let's not wait, let's cut it out of her now!' But we all want what is best for Brandy's individual case, and that means we have to show some patience and let the tests guide us." Something along those lines, at any rate. Still, I remain anything but assured.

We're off to the VA for this blood work and to pick up these antibiotics. Thanks again for reading, the prayers and the well-wishes. It means the world to Brandy and I right now.
 
AZ_Infantry said:
30 Sep update -

Those of you keeping up with this blog are already aware that yesterday, the 29th, was the "big day" for Brandy and I, the day where we met with the actual surgeon at the University of Texas Southwestern to discuss all the details of the procedure and prognosis. Those of you just getting involved are hereby informed :)

It didn't go off as we expected, but I will try and keep the steps we went through as concise as possible (go ahead and snicker at me ever being concise; I'll wait). You could just skip to the end, but you may end up confused as there has been some misunderstanding and the only real way to explain those errors is to at least touch on the steps within the visit itself.

To begin, I have to offer my absolute endorsement of UT Southwestern. I cannot remember a hospital in which I or anyone was treated with such dignity, professionalism and tact. They were friendly and warm, never once sighed at our simpleton questions, and were completely forthcoming. Because I am used to working with the VA, I research everything so that I am ready for the runaround and the ensuing lecture to the so-called doctor to stop BS'ing us. That was never an issue at UT, and her surgeon even applauded us for being so educated on the matter. We were not lied to once that I can tell, and Brandy's doctor even admitted to a few questions she had no answers for - a far, far cry from the know-it-all's at the VA.

After completing all the financial rigmarole (with an actual person in an actual one-on-one explanation session in a private room that covered every detail) we were whisked off for the standard visit precursors: height and weight; pain scale assessment; medical history screening; blood pressure, pulse and temperature; and information of that type. That was done by the Physician's Assistant (PA), who seemed to be a nice enough lady sans her smoking lectures. Lecturing Brandy is one thing. I am a 40-year old Infantry veteran and don't need lifestyle lectures from a would-be, want-to-be doctor when we are there to discuss gutting my wife like a fish. The lady, as I said, was nice enough. She simply lacked tact in some areas.

After that and another nurse visit and finishing more paperwork, we saw the surgeon (I also refer to her as the oncologist and Dr. Kehoe, so accept those terms interchangeably, please).

Pause for an inappropriate comment. I love Brandy with everything I am, and straying is never something my personal honor would ever allow me to do. But Dr. Kehoe is hot. I'm not sure what my subconscious envisioned her as, but a mid-30 shazaam specimen of the female curvature with an alluring smile wasn't it, obviously. After surreptitiously absconding with a few paper towels and blotting up the small puddle of drool that had fallen from the corners of my agape jaw, I caught hold of my facilities and was able to continue.

The first thing she admitted to, a welcome reprieve to the narcissistic nature of the VA's doctors, is that the tests we'd already been through were not comprehensive enough for her to make an absolute determination as to exactly how invasive the surgery needs to be. She said, and I am quoting from memory here, "My heart tells me that we will be proceeding with a Total Radical Hysterectomy, but without further testing there is just no way to tailor your procedure to be the very best for you, and that's what I want to do before we operate."

Yay, doc. Points for that. I should show my gratitude by taking her fishing sometime.

What? I have two sleeping bags.

Dr. Kehoe also clarified all the cancer-specific terminology, but it all matched my research I have already annotated here, so there is no need for redundancy. The end verdict remains the same: definitive sub-cell cancer of the uterus and a possible "second" cancer area around the left iliac area, specifically the left ileum (the ileum is your pelvic bone, and the top is called the iliac crest).

After that came the dreaded exam. This is going to be a bit graphic, so if female anatomy and procedure makes you squeamish, look away now.

Brandy has been complaining of some pretty severe pain "down there" and has been bleeding from her rectum pretty badly since the LEEP biopsy (conical biopsy, but of the type in which they cauterize while they cut versus a cold cut and then cauterization). She's also been severely bloated, and has some edema (water retention) in her legs and her belly. In all, she has gained 26 pounds in two months, the majority of it since the LEEP (Loop Electrosurgical Excision Procedure).

The doctor gloved up and in she went. She did a visual inspection, a tactile (feeling) examination of first the vagina, and then the ****, and then both at the same time, and finished with yet another biopsy (a simple one with the clipper thingies). By that time, Brandy was fighting back the tears and losing the battle and had a death grip on my hand that -- I kid you not, people -- hurt the hell out of these hands that have been working construction for over 20 years. She was in pain, and badly.

Again, accolades to the doctor and nurse here. The way they spoke to Brandy was just about as warm and concerned as I have ever heard from anyone. And they were kind to me, as well, as I guess I was showing some distress at Brandy being in all that pain regardless of the poker face I was doing my damnedest to keep on. The VA doesn't even allow me in the same room when these exams are going on, much less behind their curtain of secrecy they refer to as the patient privacy screen. Dillweeds. Have I mentioned how glad I a UT is doing this?

[Pssst, guys: mystery solved. Yes, a doctor can be sexy when she's fondling your wife downstairs. I really need to express my gratitude with dinner.

OK, what?]

Alright, joking aside, here are the findings:

Brandy has a pretty bad infection in her vaginal track and cervix due to the LEEP biopsy (again, up yours, VA. I will be writing some people). Before we can even do anything, she needs a one-week regime of antibiotics to clear that infection up, as she is so internally swollen that the oncologist can't even see everything she needs to see, much less isolate the one possible iliac polyp.

During that time, the doctor wants more blood work and a PET scan just to see what else the VA missed. The PET scan has to be done after the week of antibiotics, but the labs have to be done today. Sigh. Back to the VA, as they (the VA) didn't approve extra testing. Of course they didn't - it's just my wife's life, so why let red tape and paperwork and bureaucracy rule the day? Millions of coffee breaks are counting on it. Grrrrr.

Sorry...

The surgeon feels strongly that the tests will only verify what she thinks, that we need to proceed with the Total Radical Hysterectomy. So we have scheduled that as early as possible -- all swelling and infection has to be gone, lest a surgical mistake happen due to the tissue being "wrong" -- which is the week of the 17th (2.5 weeks). She again made sure that we knew that all of this was tentative, as she is going to alter whatever she feels she needs to in order to preserve Brandy's best interests. I respect the HELL out of that.

So, blood work. Start antibiotics today. PET scan in 7 days. If nothing new pops up, surgery on the week of the 17th.

After that comes the scary part:

When the doc guts her, she is going to remove every polyp she can find (usually in the 17 to 20 range, she said, as there is no realistic way to get them all). Those and all of Brandy's insides get shipped off for further testing, which will give us the knowledge to judge whether or not we need chemo or further surgery.

We have the option of leaving the ovaries or having them removed IF -- the big if again; sigh -- the tests don't reveal anything more... dire. <shudder> If we can, and if we decide to, and if the doc is able to follow through during surgery, she (the doc) will move one ovary to the back in order to (hopefully) shield it from any radiation/chemo treatments and preserve its function to make estrogen.

It is those tests, combined with next week's PET scan, that will offer us the extent of the invasive direction and power this crap has. The doctor was very adamant that because Brandy is only 36 and is in good health, the prognosis is excellent. That may be a little too optimistic for my cynical nature when it comes to doctors, but I am doing my best to offer this one as much trust and latitude as I can with my positive initial impressions of her.

So that's where we're at today - a holding pattern, the waiting game, circle the wagons and watch for dust on the horizon, the sounds of incoming. Bah.

Dr. Kehoe even said as much: "I know that your response to all this is typical: 'Let's not wait, let's cut it out of her now!' But we all want what is best for Brandy's individual case, and that means we have to show some patience and let the tests guide us." Something along those lines, at any rate. Still, I remain anything but assured.

We're off to the VA for this blood work and to pick up these antibiotics. Thanks again for reading, the prayers and the well-wishes. It means the world to Brandy and I right now.
Click to expand...

got a pal of mine i served with in nam. he's going to the VA for throat cancer surgery soon. and im worried sick
 
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