After my meetings with the medical team at the cancer clinic, I had my final follow-up with my surgeon… the original one… I know… it is confusing for me too.

My surgeon really had hoped that the cancer center would have talked me into radiation and chemotherapy.  I know he will be disappointed.

I get into his office, and sit down.  He smiles wryly and says, “So I got the notes from your doctors at the cancer clinic.” <insert pause and heavy sigh> In a somewhat defeated tone, “Why don’t you tell me in your words how it went and what your decision is?”

So I did.  We talked about how I disagreed with having the rest of lymph nodes removed, and that I was not convinced that chemotherapy was the right treatment for me since we have no biomarkers and can’t quantify progress or success, and how the “benefits” of radiation just didn’t quite statistically crunch in my favor.  We also had the serious talk about estrogen… being that my particular type of cancer feeds on estrogen, well estrogen and progesterone… seems my cancer likes variety and a balanced diet.

So, options presented are:

1. Do nothing and risk the cancer metastasizing and feeding off the estrogen created by my brass ovaries (well they are not really brass… euphemistically speaking) – by the way I added this option myself, it was not given to me by the surgeon, or any doctor really… but I maintain it is still an option.
2. Have a monthly injection that will stop my ovaries from producing estrogen, and thus send me into menopause and have the lovely side effect of debilitating joint and muscle pain (mmm…. not a great selling point).
3. Have said brass ovaries removed and take a nose dive into the lava hot asphalt road of menopause – which by the way, for the guys reading this… is a big deal, not just because of the crankiness and hot flashes, but because it is also instant bone loss – most women who have ovaries removed experience terrible osteoporosis.  And of course the aging that happens from hormone loss doesn’t excite me either… but that may be my vanity talking.  This also means no kids.  Ever.  Now admittedly I have never wanted kids, the brain is a funny thing, the moment you can’t have something you want to have it.  There is no going back.  This frustrates me.  A decision I have been solid on my whole life is now a big question because it would be taken off the table as an option.  Ugh

Well then.  Hmmm.  I swear, at times, it feels like cancer is just decision after decision between sucks, suckier and this option sucks just enough… anyway… Hack-n-saw doesn’t do the ovary removal (oopherectomy – at least it is fun to say) so he is sending me back to the gynecologist.  I really am impressed with Hack-n-saw so I inquire about the removal of my varicose veins in my legs (just when you thought I didn’t have any other nasty medical secrets right?  I also have a slight hammer toe, second digit right foot – I believe in full disclosure) and he said he would talk to me after I have my ovaries removed.

Seems he is determined to win this argument on some level.

Truth is, and I told him this, I decided long ago to live life like a racehorse – and if my heart explodes while running then at least I was running and I am HAPPY when I am running.