24 Hours is the rest of my life--every day

24 Hours is the rest of my life – every day

The next twenty-four hours may be the last hours of my life.

Some months ago, my surgeon said he didn’t know how long I have to live.

(I could have anywhere from months to decades.)

However, he did say my type of cancer is most often slow-growing, so he hoped for the decades.

Such a sweetheart (Dr. John Yee, chief thoracic surgeon for Vancouver General Hospital.)

A little background might be in order.

In November 2017, I developed pneumonia. Quite unpleasant. My family doctor regularly sent me for chest x-rays, in the following weeks, to follow the course of the healing of my left lung.

However, something was discovered on the x-rays.

After five chest x-rays I was sent for a CT scan.

As a result of the CT scan, my family doctor started looking for a surgeon. I wasn’t sure why.

The doctor she wanted had retired. However, she found Dr. John Yee, and sent my CT scan to him.)

My first appointment with Dr. Yee revealed that my thymus had developed a tumor. So he sent me for a PET scan. The PET scan showed that I had a thymoma (cancer of the thymus).

My friend, Richard, researched thymoma and discovered that only 50 new cases were discovered each year in Canada (500 in the US). In our populations, those numbers make this kind of cancer very, very rare.

This detail cheered me up…for about three seconds.

So, surgery to remove the thymoma was scheduled. It was apparently successful, however some complications occurred.

The thymoma tumor (5.0 x 5.5 x 2.1 cm) had attached itself to my right lung and the phrenic nerve. So the surgeons removed part of my right lung and the phrenic nerve. They call it resectioning. I think that means they chop out bits and tie the rest together.

(I found out much later that the surgeons had removed a whole lobe of my right lung. And, after some internet research, I discovered our right lungs have three lobes, and our left lungs, thanks to Mother Nature, have only two, as there needed to be room for the heart.)

So, the surgeons removed one-third of my right lung.

This must be the reason climbing stairs and walking is difficult for me.

(I can do it but expect heavy breathing.)

I continued to have complications, and another surgery was scheduled.

I won’t go into the details, but the surgery resulted in a lot of pain.

Two kinds of pain killers were added to my regimen to ease the pain, and the combination was quite successful.

For 2019 and 2020, my body attempted to adapt.

In the end, after fainting numerous times (in the shower and such, and fracturing my T12 vertebra), it was determined that my heartbeat was irregular (a-fib). So I now have pills for a-fib, with blood thinners, along with high blood pressure pills.

Now, 2021 arrived. And we all know what that means--part of the pandemic.

And a CT scan revealed that my cancer had returned.

They found a few tumors but the most significant one was between (and attached) to the aorta and the right pulmonary artery.

The surgeon, Dr. Yee, told me surgery was too risky.

With consultations from my oncologists, five sessions of radiation were scheduled.

After a CT scan a few months after the radiation, it was revealed the procedure had not only stopped the growth of the tumor but had diminished its size. A great outcome, for all of us.

So, another CT scan is scheduled for February 2022 to assess the development of my tumors. And we will see what has developed.

I am so grateful for the medical I have received.

Our Canadian medical system is delightful and supportive.

I could spend much time thanking my doctors and their staff, but I will only mention the major players: Dr. John Yee, chief thoracic surgeon at Vancouver General Hospital; Dr. Hannah Carolan, radiation oncologist; Dr. Barbara Menosky, medical oncologist; and my family doctor, Andrew Walker.

I'm sure I’ve missed many (and I have nothing but praise for all the technicians I’ve encountered during my testing).

Anyway, to make a long story short (didn’t happen though, did it?), I have a few thoughts about my last twenty-four hours.

(1) Hug the ones you love, every day;

(2) If not possible to physically hug, give them a call;

(3) Especially, especially, pay attention to your partner. They may not know what you are going through mentally, however, they have their own issues during this time. And, believe me, they have a good idea of your stress, especially after you have lived with them for fifty years;

(4) Stay in touch with the friends who have stayed in touch with you. This is a difficult time, and many will fall away.

What else is there to say?

Enjoy your life.

People will say ‘take a trip’ or ‘do this or that’, but is that what you really want to do?

Analyze. I really like the saying: “I want a life that I do not need to take a holiday from.”

To me that means, I love my life and want to enjoy it.

My hubby and I have a half-acre in the middle of a thriving city, Greater Vancouver. I can sit outside and look at my garden, fruit trees, and such and not even hear or see evidence of a city. Why would I want to go anywhere?

So, that’s my life—to enjoy my time, twenty-four hours at a time.

And I have one short saying that helps me accept my situation—It is what it is.

Winter might be coming, but there’s always something to enjoy.