So, we're pretty sure it's not The Borg...

For those of you who are not Star Trek Fans (and why aren't you!?!?), let me explain about the Good Guys - The United Federation of Planets - versus the Bad Guys - Klingons, Romulans, and The Borg. The Good Guys go exploring the galaxies, discovering new species who, remarkably enough, almost all speak English. It is then the Good Guys who must protect the never-before-encountered-yet-articulate-in-English newbies from the Bad Guys. Up to speed? Good. It gets more complicated from here. Okay, so the first incarnation of Star Trek, Captain James T. Kirk (before he had to start hawking for Priceline. I guess a Captain's retirement pay from the Federation doesn't quite cover the bills), is mortal enemies with the Klingons and Romulans. He never even heard of the Borg. In this time, the Romulans looked just like Vulcans because at one time they were like all the same or something and then they like had a fight and Vulcans became all stoic and smart and junk and the Romulans just got a nasty attitude. The Klingons of this time looked like a cross between a sixties beatnik and some orange-tanned cast member of Jersey Shore. But I digress. Point being, they were all the bad nasties and Captain Kirk went about valiantly protecting all the well-spoken alien species. Flash-forward a couple of captains and tv decades later, and we have Captain Jean-Luc Picard, taking a break from doing Shakespeare-on-the-Green In Enid, Oklahoma. By this time, the Feds have made nice-nice with the Klingons - who have lost their Jersey Orange tans, but have developed a truly nasty case of forehead ridges from too much time on a tanning bed. The Romulans are still among the bad nasties. But then appears (duh-duh-DUH!!), flying at super warp speed, a cube that looks like something like a '67 Lincoln Continental that went several rounds with an car crusher. But these guys are scary. They want to "assimilate" all species, but barring that ("Resistance is futile" which has to be pronounced "Few-tile", otherwise no one will take them seriously), The Borg will simply annihilate what ever does kick up a fuss. The Borg are also telepathically wired to one another so they can spread a single thought throughout their "Collective", making them the baddest of the bad nasties.

So, WHAT the heck am I talking about!?!?!? Thought you'd never ask....

Today was the first of the results to find out how big the bad nasties were that had invaded my body. A week ago is when I donated about a gallon or two of my blood for them to ponder and examine and sell off the extra. So far, this has been the only test I have had since the many wonderful scans in the refrigerated radiology department. It doesn't mean it's been all quiet and calm. Not quite.

Thank God Greg has been here to take me around to all these places and be my general buddy when Don is working. We are losing track of the number of trips we have taken over to the hospital, including one extra special one to pick up re-writes of prescriptions that Walmart couldn't cover so we then had to go to a different pharmacy that the Cancer Clinic uses. WHEW!! Today, he actually came in with Don and I so he could be there to pray, be supportive, pray, ask good questions, and then...pray. He also has become our personal valet, as they are doing construction on the building (yay, MORE places to get lost!!), and the construction dudes pretty much take up all the parking. So, he tried taking it to valet out by the lobby. The declined saying they could not because FloJo also accompanied us, and they were not allowed to take a car with LIVE animals!! Kinda begs a certain question, doesn't it....

ANYWAY!! He eventually got the car parked and joined us in the waiting room of the Pacific Cancer Center. I really admire the overall attitude of these good people doing a hard job in a difficult area. We are always met with smiles and warmth (in demeanor, not temperature), there are usually home-baked cookies on the reception desk surrounded by gorgeous tropical flowers, and there is a giant jigsaw puzzle on a table for those who are waiting the long wait for a doctor or loved one. Today there was an extra treat - a musician!! A....HARPIST!! Now, I don't want to stereotype, but is HARP music really the appropriate genre in an oncology ward!?!?!?!? ("yes, this is what you may be hearing soon - and you just might be playing it!). So, we sat and giggled our sick, morbid jokes until my name was called and the three of us trudged back.

I know I talked about my oncologist and his sweetness and artistic acumen, but I failed to describe him. Dr. Ramin Altaha a soft-spoken Persian with years of studies from Hamburg, Germany and Johns-Hopkins and few more rather impressive places. He chuckles like an prepubescent boy whose best friend just said "booby". He also has a little gray in his scruffy beard (verrrry comforting, seeing gray), and a crazy, not quite controlled head of longish soft black curls. Kind of a Persian Labradoodle. But he makes what is so tough much easier.

Dr. Labradoodle takes out his notes and asks me what other tests I may have had or have scheduled. I respond about the blood, the biopsy scheduled for next Friday, the meeting with the Radiation Oncologist on Wednesday, and still waiting for the free trip to Honolulu for the P.E.T. scan. he takes down my answers. Then he pulls out his notes about the blood, and smiles as he reports that the blood tests show nothing in vital organs!! PRAAAAAISE GOD!!!! What does this mean?!!? The cancer does not appear to be from pancreas ovary breast liver kidney colon or even from any vagrant thyroid tissue left behind for 8 years ago. Any of these could have been very grim news indeed, as the prognoses for these types of cancer are equally grim. No Borg. No "Collective" trying to assimilate healthy tissue or destroy what it could not absorb.

This was the first good news of any kind since this nightmare began just a couple of weeks ago. Dr. used the term "if" instead of "when" for the chemotherapy. I have admitted to my family that I was kind of getting behind the notion of the smooth, no maintenance head. But then again, I have a very lumpy, bumpy skull and bald would not do. Besides, I am used to pulling my hair through the back of my mask when I snorkel, and I fear that the strap may just slip right off without it. So, yeah...pretty jazzed that I may get to keep my hairs.

But we're not in enemy free territory. The same nodules and tumors are there - and Dr. Labradoodle is seeking answers from the biopsy. And radiation will be hitting all the spots of enemy growth throughout my body. I spent some time ready up on the side effects of radiation. Not pretty. One instruction actually says to avoid going to the beach.......... AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH!!!!!!! We'll figure a way around that. Then, because I will have some zappage on my chest to get to the little pimples on my lungs, I might have throat troubles. Avoid spicy foods, it advises.....EHEHEHEHEHHEEEE!! I will likely be having three-spice hummus while sitting (under an umbrella) on Ka'anapali Beach.

Things are going to change in a way I don't like - but at least it looks like I will be alive to appreciate it. I was telling Gregory tonight that I have never been so completely out-of-control of anything in my life - nor have I ever felt so free. I do and go what and where the doctors say. It's not them I put my trust in, however - it is the God of Creation who put them in this position to help me. The medicine and prescription and radiation and all treatments may have their name on the orders, but it is God who gifted them and gives them insight. Don't get me wrong. I love every single doctor and medical person I have met in this process, and I am in awe of their brains and years of study and profound work ethic. But.... I know the power comes from above...

So, now back to my odd metaphor.... I know that I have used roller coasters and chariots. Don't mean to give you time warp whiplash, or shock your brain by referring to Biblical History in one entry then a futuristic fiction in the next. But in our conversation with my lovely Dr. Ramin "Labradoodle" Altaha, he expressed deep concern for the pain I would be feeling as the bone and muscle get eaten up a bit under treatment. He insisted I start now. He insisted on Morphine.

Told ya....I'll do whatever the doctors say.....