May Scan Update

On May 4, 2020, scans were done of my chest, abdomen, and pelvis.

Here are the results:

Chest--decrease size of conglomerate soft tissue involving upper mediastinum currently measuring 0.9 cm in short axis in the paratracheal region previously 1.8 cm. Significant improvement of mass effect upon the right lateral wall of the trachea.
Radiologist is pleased and says this mass should continue shrinking over the next few months.
I am relieved!

Abdomen--clear!

Pelvis--New sclerotic osseous lesion measuring 2.2 x 1.0 cm in the right sacral ala--(near my tail bone). See picture below.
My pelvis has been clear since the beginning, so this is VERY concerning. Sclerotic osseous lesions (blastic or bone-forming) are areas of hardening of the bone. Radiologist suggests a bone scan (scintigraphy test) to confirm or disprove cancer spread to the bones. Oncologist says typically lytic bone (deterioration or decrease in bone) is seen with breast cancer of the bone. It could also be healing from an injury or infection or contrast uptake in that area at the moment the scan was done, not cancer-related. All of the research I have done is not so optimistic. First: how would I have injured this area of my pelvis? Sure I moved a lot of things into my apartment and also started jogging for short distances, but this doesn't seem likely--to me at least. Second: breast cancer can start out as hardening (increase in bone) and then become lytic (decrease in bone). Cancer metastasis can also have components of both.  

With not being able to work during this Covid19 pandemic because of my compromised immune system, the stay-at-home order from my state's governor, leaving my husband, and now this "new" lesion of possible cancer spread, I must admit my world is not on solid ground. Still hopeful though.

Bone scan is scheduled for May 26th. I will give an update then.  


This was sent to me by a friend.

Fate whispers to the warrior

You cannot withstand the storm

The warrior whispers back

I am the storm

                                                                           Jake Remington

Literally my body is the storm; I won't give up until there is nothing else that can be done.

My Story Continues

Many days of happiness have been part of my life since my diagnosis in April of 2013; far more than I expected. Constant fear does linger, though, in the background. Every time I lie on a CAT scan table to be scanned for detection of disease progression, I shake. My shaking is from fear. Fear that the result will tell me my timeline has shortened yet again and that sadness will race in front of my happiness.

After my 10:00 am scan on November 6th, my husband and I finally reach the room where we waited for my doctor. She knocked on the door then entered. We exchanged our pleasantries. She washed her hands, and we braced for the results of my scan.

She began: “The radiologist has not read your chest scan yet. I’ve looked at it and see no changes. I still need the radiologist’s read on it, but I see no reason not to treat you today.”—not her exact words, but close.

I expelled the breath I had been holding. But, a little of that breath remained inside me. I needed to see the report and read the words of the radiologist.

At the end of our meeting I asked if I could have a scan in six months instead of four. Dr. R. agreed and says, “Infusion #59 is not the norm. We are now in unchartered territory.”

A little unnerving, but good words nonetheless.

To infusion I went, trying not to worry about what the radiologist would report.

At home the following day, I waited for a call from my doctor and for the report to appear on my patient portal. It was getting late and because I hate to wait I messaged the nurse navigator. Soon, my doctor called saying she had delayed the release of the report because she wanted to talk to me first.

Uh oh, here we go, I thought.

“There is some change around the fiducial markers,” she said.

She explained she thought the increased density was due to continued changes from the radiation I received. (My last treatment was November 11, 2015 to one lung nodule in my lung.) She was hoping to speak to the Cyberknife Radiation Oncologist before calling me, but had not heard back from him. She didn’t want me to read the report without her input. That is why she had not released it. 

After we hung up I went to the patient portal and read my now released report. I took the information she gave me and searched the internet for more information hoping to understand these words:

"Mildly increased right middle lobe density about the fiducial markers."

I will get more clarification from my doctor, but for now this is my understanding of what is happening in my right lung:

After my radiation treatment, my nodule disappeared. What was left were called ground glass opacities. These can indicate progression, but in my case it is due to damage caused by radiation. (The fiducial markers were placed prior to radiation treatment and marked the location of the tumor. The markers are made of gold and will always be visible on a scan.) Opacities are cloudy areas that are just clear enough for blood vessels or other tiny structures of the lung to be visible. When these areas become denser, cloudiness increases and less can be seen. It can mean progression or continued radiation changes.

Several days later, I received a call from the scan department at my treatment center. I was told Dr. R. wanted to add a scan to my appointments scheduled in January. That call confirmed to me that since this wasn’t a six month scan nor was it a four month scan, my last scan must indicate progression.

Yeah, a few tears came after the call.

But . . . another call came soon after from my nurse Navigator. “Lisa, good news!” 

“You are kidding me!” I said. “The CAT scan department just called, and I had convinced myself it was bad news.”

She chuckled and said, "No, no. The radiation oncologist believes the changes are from the radiation and NOT progression”. We want to do a scan in January just to make sure.”

Through this 2016 Thanksgiving holiday and after passing the 53rd date of my birth on November 19th, I continue on the happiness train hopeful the train is not about to derail. In January, I will do my best to still my shaking body as that machine provides a picture of my future. For now, my story, filled with hope and happiness, continues.