Staging Cancer -
The Most Fun I Ever Had in One Week

The diagnosis process didn’t end with the biopsy they performed on the lymph nodes in my neck. No, that was just the beginning of it – and actually, it was the easiest part because the anesthesiologist knocked me out cold before they performed the lymph node biopsy – I never felt a thing.

Staging cancer is the next step in the diagnosis process, and for me, that required being subjected to a dizzying array of tests over the course of the next week – another CT scan, a MUGA scan, a PET scan, countless blood tests, and a bone marrow biopsy. After that week, I can honestly say that I know what a lab rat must feel like. I knew that all of those tests were necessary in order to determine the staging of my cancer and the appropriate course of treatment, but I couldn’t help but think that maybe my doctor and these oncology nurses were really just vampires that wanted my blood, one vial at a time.

I won’t go into detail about the diagnostic tests I mentioned above, but I do have to mention a few key things about each one:

• Before the CT scan, I had to drink two large cups of this awful thick, chalky liquid that I can only describe as “grossness”. I tried to use the “plug your nose and chug” trick that had worked so well with tequila in college, but these cups were seriously the size of those Big Gulp containers found at gas stations. Yick. I almost get a gag reflex just thinking about it.


• The MUGA scan was really very non-eventful - they just did it to make sure my heart was in good enough shape to handle the chemotherapy - and I passed!


• The PET scan took a lot longer than the CT scan, but it was a rather nice experience. They wrapped me up in these warm blankets, and I got to take a nap while they performed the scan. And no drinking of the “grossness” was involved.


• The bone marrow biopsy was like taking a trip to the edge of hell. I hope using that word doesn’t offend anyone, but if there was ever an appropriate time to use it, this is it.
  
  Here’s how this nightmare of a procedure worked:
  
  
  • My oncologist assured me that the seven Novocain shots he administered to my backside would keep me from feeling much of the procedure. He also told me that he was quite experienced at performing bone marrow biopsies, so I was lucky to have him doing it instead of some other doctor that might not be as skilled at extracting bone marrow from a person’s backside.
  
  
  • Another doctor was also present in the room for the purposes of “talking” to me – in other words distracting me – while my oncologist performed the biopsy.
  
  
  • My oncologist proceeded to stick a needle the size of a screwdriver into the back of my pelvic bone, moved it around so he could get a good sample, and then pulled it back out. When the needle emerged, it contained a small cylinder of my pelvic bone. Go ahead, scream. I did.
  
  
  • While my oncologist was using the screwdriver-like needle to get a sample of my bone, this other doctor was asking me questions like “Been on any good vacations lately?” and “What is your favorite restaurant in Chicago?” Yeah…not so effective in distracting me from the torture at hand.
  
  I’m sure the Novocain helped to some extent, but to this day I have never been in so much pain. When the bone marrow biopsy was over, my backside was numb AND throbbing. How is it possible to be numb and in exquisite pain at the same time? Isn’t being numb supposed to keep you from feeling pain? It was also very difficult to walk, so I ended up taking a cab back to work. It was even more fun after the Novocain wore off, but I’ll spare you those details. Let’s just say that I still shudder when I think about that procedure.

My volleyball team on Chicago's North Avenue Beach
- one of the places I miss the most!

At this point, I made the decision to move home to Omaha for the treatments. My oncologist in Chicago encouraged me to do this simply because that’s where my strongest support system was located. My parents, sister and boyfriend all lived in Omaha, and although I had a lot of wonderful friends in Chicago (and still do!), family and significant others tend to provide the most indispensable support during difficult times.

I was nothing short of devastated to leave Chicago, especially since I had to make the move without much notice, but I knew it was the best thing for me to do. My oncologist in Chicago hooked me up with Dr. B, the fabulous oncologist I go to in Omaha. I subleased my apartment for the remainder of my lease, secured a job transfer to the Omaha location for my company, and made all of the other necessary arrangements to bring my life in Chicago to a close.

Continue to Part III - Chemo Treatments

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