Finally a lift

This was a significant week for Susan in several ways as she met with an orthopedist regarding her back injury, had another brain MRI and oncology visit at UCLA, and got a lift in her cognitive level. We met on Monday with Dr Sarbpaul Bhalla in Long Beach, a veteran orthopedist who evaluated Susan’s July spinal images from UCLA and ordered a new thoracic-lumbar MRI for next week. He’ll determine whether she’s a candidate for kyphoplasty, a non-invasive surgery for compression fractures where the cavity of the vertebra is filled with a small balloon followed by bone cement to restore its normal height and shape. The procedure is useful for its immediate restoration that relieves pain, has few side effects, and is fairly simple to do.
We had a full day at UCLA on Wednesday with good news about Susan’s brain tumor – the MRI showed no change compared to July. This week's scan was important since the June/July comparison still involved the transition to Susan’s new CPT-11/Avastin treatment and lacked a good starting point or baseline. We are very grateful for tumor stability and lack of growth. We enjoyed our meeting with Dr Timothy Cloughesy, who directs the neuro-oncology program at UCLA and is covering Dr Nghiemphu’s patients while she’s on maternity leave. With the good report on tumor, we focused on Susan’s complications and the additional good news of improvement with red and white blood cells (anemia and infection). Also her spinal fluid was clear following last week’s lumbar puncture (no meningitis); and her proteinuria improved so she could receive Avastin again. Since Susan tested positive this week for blood clots (DVT) in both legs, Dr Cloughesy prescribed a blood thinner called lovenox. And with evidence of osteoporosis brought on by chemotherapy, he prescribed a bone strengthener called fosomax.
Starting Wednesday, I also noticed some of the fog clouding Susan’s mind start to lift. It’s hard to say whether it’s due to relief from infection, last week’s spinal tap, or recovery from her last chemo, but she was thankfully more alert, more talkative, and more aware of her situation and surroundings. I completely enjoyed having more fluid conversations with her than we’ve had for a while, especially since last week she asked me whether her parents and her fiancé knew what was going on with her. That comment brought one of those moments of gentle correction and acknowledgment that there’s a reason she’s confused – and it’s ok.

Susan’s funnies keep coming. When I opened her car door after arriving at UCLA, she said to me with feigned surprise, “Oh, who are you?” I said, “I’m fine.” (This is a game we’ve played for years.) Then I told her I resolve to respond with “I’m fine” every time she asks me who I am, and to respond with “I’m your husband” every time she asks me how I am. She looked at me straight-faced and said, “And I resolve to hit you every time you do that.” Later in the hallway, we encountered our pal Carla who helps schedule Susan’s appointments. We must have been on her list or something, because she saw us as she busily walked by and said, “Hey, you’re my next people.” I said excitedly to Sue, “Hey, honey, we’re her next people!” Susan replied out of the blue, “That’s good, as long as she saves us some of her candy.” For Susan, thoughts of candy produce excitement, and excitement produces thoughts of candy.