The Return of Dr. V

November 2, 2019

Hello Foxiest of Friends --

One of the mysteries of the mountain I'm ascending is that progress, and all this work, can feel steady, until one loose step, or a confusing trail map, can result in what feels like dropping back to base camp in an instant. It's a delicate, oftentimes, treacherous trek. Twists and confusion are assured. But so is stubborn hope.

This week on the mountain was a doozy. 

When we last checked in, one of the heroes of our story -- Dr. C -- declared "mild improvement" after my scans and most of us were left with either hopeful hugs or cautious head-scratching, mainly based on where you plot yourself on the pessimist/optimist continuum. But what would Dr C say?

To be charitable, she fell squarely in the cautious head-scratching camp. Turns out, when she said "mild improvement" she actually meant that. Literally. And it turns out, I've more or less decided all oncologists specialize in speaking literally. Anyhow, for those who want the director's cut version of this story just send me a note and you'll get a mini saga full of all kinds of heartbreak and confusion.

So after a rather wild conversation, she encouraged me to get back with Dr. V, "as soon as you can." Devoted readers will remember that Dr. V -- one of the finest surgeons we've ever heard of (I know, I didn't know any others at the beginning either) -- first made a cameo at the beginning of the climb. Back then, he optimistically handed me my map -- chemo, surgery, follow up chemo -- and encouraged me to get climbing. A minor miracle surfaced, and an appointment with Dr. V was booked for Friday.

How do you navigate a fairly terrible Tuesday to an uncertain Friday? By being surrounded by good friends who know a thing about scans, and oncologists, and surgeons, and who brought good insights, pragmatism, empathy, and reasons to be patient.

Because Friday was coming. And with it, the return of Dr V.

After staring at my scans for a bit, here's what Dr V had to say: "It's time. Your tumors have decreased in size. It's time we get these out. Chemo pauses here. You're going to get a three for one deal here -- we'll take out the right lobe of your liver (you won't miss it), your spleen (you won't miss this either), and the top part of your colon where the madness began (for sure you won't miss that). And we'll do it all at once. And we're going to do this soon -- mid-December most likely. Go spend the next six weeks getting healthy again. Eat your veggies, keep enjoying all that oatmeal, surround yourself with joy. Live. It's time."

"Oh and you need a few more tests to check other things." (For now, let's just chill while we see if there are new surprises. I mean, what choice do we have.)

And just like that a new character entered the stage -- Dr K, another surgeon who will operate on the colon and the spleen. I already like her. She kept calling me "young and fit," which for this 40something lady aren't quite the go to adjectives I'm accustomed to hearing. I felt like I was getting nominated for the Supreme Court or something. "She's under 65 -- so young!"

What about the Dr C curveball? I know. It's a tricky twist. But here's the thing -- despite the stumble on the mountain, when one day we might get to celebrate the view from the summit, all of us are going to rave about Dr C's goodness and let the Terrible Tuesday go. She got that key CEA score down more than 97% to a remarkable 14. She did this by steering Foxy's mighty jets throughout. She has been a brilliant listener, chemist, and tenacious problem solver. We'll never ask her to promote a movie, but the good news is that there are many out there who are quite capable at that job. It all works out.

So today begins six weeks of glorious living. It's advent for me before surgery. I'll live in a season of preparation, hope, expectation, and just in time for November -- gratitude. 

The climb on the mountain is nowhere near done. There will be many more missed steps and twists and who knows what else. But I just cleared a key gate. I'm lacing up my boots for the next chapter, and I'm so forever thankful to all of you for keeping me close throughout this first leg of the climb, which has often been agonizing, but mostly full of the most remarkable and generous friendship, and heartfelt prayers, that has forever changed me.

The story continues. Drs V and K are new characters and they're already learning their lines. Let's welcome them with open arms.

xoxo

PS -- A tip of the hat to Colocci, and to all fans of the best player ever to don the #14 on his back: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XrhJBMbEDuY