The news from yesterday's trip to the KU Cancer Center was almost entirely good.  We got up at 6 a.m. to literally freezing weather.  Spring just will not come.  The dogwoods are in bloom, and daffodils and some tulips have raised their heads, though they risk a Frost-like beheading.  I could drink water to take my meds, but at 6 a.m. I wanted coffee, which was off-limits.  By a few minutes after 7, the dog was fed and had been let out, we were dressed, and the car was warm.  It always takes exactly 75 minutes, almost all of it on the Interstate, to reach the Cancer Center. 

We signed in and almost immediately I was called for the blood work.  I had the same cheerful, but not very competent, middle-aged woman that I had had a couple of times ago.  Like the previous time, she praised my standout vein, and then dug around saying she couldn't get the blood to flow.  No one else has ever had that problem.  When I'm having CT scans, it's necessary to put in a port.  The time before, when she finally did get blood, she had put in the wrong size port, so it had to be done all over again when I went for the scans.  This time, while I was in the middle of x-rays, a tech came to say that the first phlebotomist hadn't drawn enough blood and then discovered that the port wasn't fully in the vein so once more I had to have a new port put in.  It's not painful, but it does seem like a pretty elementary procedure to botch twice.

Dressed in my green gown (they have a new design that wraps around twice so nothing risks exposure) I had twenty x-rays, the most ever--from my skull to my toes.  And then I started drinking the two large cups of what they insist is just water in preparation for the CT scans.  I've gone from the thick, unpleasant liquid of a couple of years ago to "smoothies" to fruit-flavored, clear liquid, to now just water.  I'm not sure I'm completely convinced that there are no additives, because I don't see how it can be useful for contrasts if it's just H20 and because, like the earlier versions, it causes immediate chills.  They gave me a warm blanket, but then I sat there for an hour waiting for the scans.  The warmth dissipated, and the chills returned.  Since I'd been moved to an out-of-the-way nook for the reinsertion of the port, I was pretty sure I had been forgotten, but eventually someone came and I had the scans.  The tech wanted to know whether I was part of the Missouri Faulkners who raised hogs and reminisced about the good old days on the hog farm.

Finally, I could put my clothes on, rejoin Mohamed, and head outside for a cigarette.  The chilly weather and the effects of the "water" I'd drunk didn't make for a long break.  We both had coffee, but couldn't find any sweet snacks.  I wanted sugar, but obviously a medical center prefers to encourage more healthful habits.

Our appointment with Dr. Vanveldhuizen was scheduled for noon, but as always, he was running behind, and it was 1 p.m. before we saw Jennifer, the physician assistant.  Thirty minutes later, Dr. Van appeared.  The blood work was all good, almost everything within the normal range.  Almost all of the x-rays were back, and there were no problems with bones.  The CT scans showed that the secondary tumors, which are scattered throughout my body, were stable, as they've been for some time.  The only glitch is that the primary (kidney) tumor has continued to grow, as it has for the last nine months.  But its growth is very slow--nothing dramatic.  We had already run through the alternatives.   I could switch to a different chemo treatment, but so far the Votrient has been quite effective, there is no guarantee that a different medication would be more effective, and my body would have to readjust to a new set of side effects.  Or I could have surgery to remove the kidney, but that operation wouldn't prolong my life and has its own dangers given my compromised immune system.  What it might (and I stress the 'might') do is make the complications when the tumor is much enlarged less difficult.  As before, given the uncertain results and the failure to make a long-term difference, removal of the kidney doesn't much interest me.  So we're leaving well enough alone.  Cancer, shmancer, abi gesund.

And then I got my extremely expensive bone-strengthening shot, and we headed home.  As I knew I would, I slept for the entire trip, and when we got home, I was more exhausted than ever so slept for another two hours.  I did pull myself together later, and Mohamed and I went out for dinner.  I have to say how important Mohamed is not only in day-to-day support, but also on a day like yesterday.  Not only does he drive (I certainly couldn't have driven home), but he's patiently there in what must be for him an even more boring day-long wait.  And he's there for the consultation, asking questions and listening attentively (by that time, my mind isn't working at full capacity).  Going through this alone would be a quite different and much more difficult experience.  With Mohamed, it's much less stressful.  Shukran, as they say.