So far, so good

It's rainy, cold and all-around depressing here in SWMo, but things are looking sunnier overall (and not just because the baseball season is right around the corner...though that's a plus, too). No, Mom is doing well. We had breakfast and did some cleaning for her this morning, and she's in a very good state of mind, even though she has two tubes sticking out of her side...but more on that later.

Again, apologies for the lengthy wait between posts. It's been a busy week for everyone around here, especially for Susan.

To bring you up to speed, on Wednesday the family had a second consultation with Dr. Buckner (a.k.a. Superman) who examined the lumpectomy site and pronounced her 80 percent likely for MammoSite, the newfangled treatment I told you about in this post. The concern: that the cavity where the tumor was removed was too close to the skin, this making internal radiation too dangerous. Immediately following that appointment was a meeting with her radiation oncologist, Dr. Michael Albritton, at Hulston Cancer Center. It was essentially a get-to-know-you session and a chance for the staff to explain to mom the potential side-effects of radiation treatment.

Then came the big news: on Friday (yesterday) we were again on the fifth floor of the Ferrell-Duncan clinic to meet with Dr. Buckner. By the time we left the office, mom had had a balloon inserted in her breast, filled with 40 cc's of saline (she said it was the closest she'd ever come to a implants!), and two catheter tubes sticking out of her side! The entire contraption looked kind of like this (sorry for the fuzziness of the image). They put it in Friday to make sure MammoSite would work. The concern: If the expanded balloon stretches the cavity too much, leaving too little tissue between the cavity and the skin, MammoSite would be a no-go. Fortunately, it was perfect: A full 9 millimeters of tissue between the cavity and the skin, which is pretty much ideal.

The upshot: This weekend Mom's walking around with bandages covering a not-so-tiny hole in her side (it was quite an invasive procedure, though thankfully pain-free), and will begin MammoSite on Tuesday (Monday will be a trial run...a "dress rehearsal" if you will). The tubes are catheters that connect to the balloon in her breast, where a small radioactive seed will be placed, working from the inside out rather than outside in (much fewer side effects and shorter treatment time, doc says). This will happen at the Hulston Cancer Center twice a day for five days, beginning Tuesday and ending the following Monday--only 26 days after her diagnosis. A miracle if ever I've seen one. After that, there will be frequent checkups, but hopefully no more procedures.

This is not to say this hasn't been a draining experience so far--even though it's been best-case scenario all the way, it's still a big deal, and mom has handled it like a trooper, as has my wife, Nichole, who along with help from one of mom's close nursing friends (Thank you, Cheryl!) is handing the bulk of the bandage-changing and home-nursing duties--the dressing over the catheter site currently needs to be changed twice a day, and mom can't do herself since it's on the side of her breast, almost under her arm, and she can't see it. My wife has been a godsend in this. (Watch a KOLR-10 story about her awesome high school journalism program here.)

Mom has promised a personal note for tomorrow's post, so I'm going to hold her to it--unless, of course she doesn't want to do it. She's overwhelmed (and bit humbled) by all the love and support. Our hope is that when this fight is over--or at least on a long, long, long timeout--you'll turn that support and love to others with cancer who need it, or at least to a charity to help find a cure.

Have a happy and safe Saturday.