Remember way back when in June that I was supposed to have surgery? Hence the lunggone moniker? Well, we've come full circle, in a way. On September 24th I will again go under general anesthesia and John Moore will again biopsy lymph nodes in my chest, this time by frozen section, and if there is no cancer present in the nodes then he will remove my left lung. A pneumonectomy. This next step brings with it a new level of hope, that surgery could, in fact, be a cure. There is no guarantee, of course, and there are serious risks involved with this surgery. There is also the possibility, a not insignificant one, that the cancer outside of the primary tumor has not been eradicated by the treatment that I have had so far, and I will wake up to two lungs and more chemotherapy and radiation, and the same dismal statistics I have been living(?) under for the past 3+ months. Friends, that is a frightening prospect. I have been read The Riot Act about statistics but it's my life not yours so leave that topic alone for now. It is what it is.
But I have hope. I love hope. I can feel it. I feel positive and ready and I want to be cured. I want my life back. I missed the summer, I will miss the fall, but I don't think it is unrealistic to be up and about for winter. I probably won't ski, but what the heck, maybe I can handle Sugar Mountain.
So reload those prayer guns. You have all been so wonderful keeping me going on this still inconceivable journey.
Love and thanks,