I'm So Done With This Already

Week 16: I went to see my cancer surgeon. We went over my pathology report. They removed a piece of skin and underlying tissue that measured approximately 2-2/3" long x 1-1/2" wide x 1/2" deep. The tumor itself was about 2/3" x 1/2" x 1/4" in size. I don't recall the details, but I think the smallest dimension was about 3" with my original cancer, so this one was relatively small by comparison. That's the good news. The bad news is that my "Nottingham Score" is 9: Architecture 3 (out 3), Nuclei 3 (out of 3), and Mitoses 3 (out of 3). When the numbers are added up, a sum of 3 to 5 is Grade 1, 6 to 7 is Grade 2, and 8 to 9 is Grade 3. The higher the number, the more aggressive the cancer. That being said, because the Nottingham system is subject to a given pathologist's opinion, it's an imprecise method of categorizing the cancer. A high score doesn't mean I'm doomed, nor would a low score mean I'm off the hook. The grading is simply a tool to try to quantify tumor characteristics. After we talked about the report, my surgeon asked me, "so what does Dr. Felice (my oncologist) have planned?" I told her the names of the drugs I'm going to have and she shook her head in agreement. I asked her point blank what she thought of it. She stroked my arm and said, "it's really what you need at this point. It's the best thing for you." Reassuring while at the same time, ominous. Week 17: My central-line surgery went fine, except that, "IT HURTS LIKE HELL!" As soon as I'm done taking a little more pain medication, I'll tell you more about it. Four hours later... ...okay, where was I? Oh yeah, "IT HURTS LIKE HELL."