There has been a lot of talking, praying, and weighing of options going on around here. Hubby took a few days off work last week, and we spent much of that time discussing our future. We have made some decisions.
I will not have another debulking surgery. The possible benefits are minuscule when compared to the probable risks. I want to spend my time not suffering in bed, but making memories with my family.
With Dr. F's blessing, I have scheduled two appointments. I hesitate to use the word "final", but it certainly feels like they are final appointments. Last chances. End-of-the-road.
The first one I went to today at UT Southwestern here in Dallas. I saw a doctor whose career specialty is advanced gyn cancers. She was extremely generous with her time and I could see compassion in her eyes. She wanted to give me good news. There was talk of pathology review and tumor classification, but in the end, she confirmed what we already know. My Monster is rare--less than 10% of all ovarian cancer patients experience this sort of evolution of cancer. It is strong, mean, and without a miracle, it will be nearly impossible to eradicate.
The second appointment I made will take place at Memorial Sloane-Kettering Cancer Center in New York on July 22. My medical records were forwarded to MSK, and after review, my request for an appointment was approved. There is much to be done in preparation for that appointment: paperwork must be gathered, pathology slides from all four of my previous surgeries must be overnighted to the clinic, and arrangements must be made.
I have not anticipated earth-shattering revelations from either of these doctors. Quite the opposite, actually. After years of disappointing--no, crushing--tests, reports, and appointments, I know better than to have high expectations. Instead, my ambition is simple: I want to be settled. I want to know without a doubt that I have done everything reasonable to fight a good fight. I want to be able to look my husband, my little cowboys, and my parents in the eye and be confident that I did my best for them.
Make no mistake, friends. This is not resignation, nor am I giving up. I believe that God still does miracles all the time, and that He can heal. We continue to pray for that miracle. And I also believe that God has a good plan for me--even if it is cancer.
These are scary days, yet I feel peace. That is a good gift from a good God.
"Faith is deliberate confidence in the character of God whose ways you may not understand at the time."--Oswald Chambers