Bedtime for chemo

Yesterday I saw a respirologist, Dr. S., to make Dr. A. feel better about canceling round eight. Dr. S. said that although there was no detectable tumours on my lungs from the CT, I had what's known in the breathing biz as "ground-glass opacity". This really just means there's either fibrosis or some kind of inflammation in my lungs, which is usually treatable or goes away on its own or could lead to bad stuff down the road.

He confirmed that I did indeed have pneumonia, so the cancer clinic did right by me to prescribe antibiotics, and most importantly, that canceling round eight was the best decision. My never-ending cough and low-grade fever, along with the pattern the cough followed (disappearing when I was on steroids, then coming back after chemo) and the rash I got on my forehead all point toward a rare and serious reaction to docetaxel that would have worsened if I had another dose of it.

Dr. S. listened to my chest and heart again and ordered some basic lung capacity tests for sometime in January to record a baseline, but he was comfortable that I was recovering on my own and wouldn't need any other meds or treatment. He also sang Dr. A's praises (which many others have as well), saying that she was thorough, absolutely anal about paying attention to side effects and spends an inordinate amount of time researching options for patients and discussing possible treatments with other docs. So there's a serious worker bee under her ultra-cool demeanour. Almost six months into this jazz, I suppose I should surrender a little to her expertise and stop wanting her to be my buddy...

... but not before I complained to Dr. S. that it made me very uncomfortable when Dr. A. asked what I thought about canceling round eight. What the fuck do I know? I've had a dry cough when I get a cold for my entire life, I want to get everything I can out of chemo before I abandon it... don't ask me now what I think! I think I'd like a chocolate bar and a martini, dammit. Dr. S. agreed that the question was unfair and then spent another 15 minutes just chatting with me about what chemo does to your body and how people have misconceptions about what pneumonia looks like and how I felt about this whole experience. And this was at the end of his day, 20 minutes past when his office usually closes.

I walked out of the joint feeling pretty great, and completely fine about ending chemo at round seven. But it also made me feel a little bossy. So this morning I called to bug Dr. A's office about filling out my long-term disability form before the end of the year and called my radiation onc's office to poke around about setting a surgery date in the new year. I'm getting a little tired of waiting around in cancer land. I got shit to do, people!