I certainly feel like I am living in a cone of uncertainty. I would like to see some spaghetti models of my future. Which way will the path of hurricane Giant Cell Tumor take?
Will it be chemo for life?
Is amputation in my near future?
Is there a chance for a more invasive surgery that still saves my foot and my ability to walk?
Is there a cure on the horizon?
Just where is this Giant Cell Tumor hurricane going to hit the hardest?
No way of knowing right now.
I was thinking yesterday about how much I am a person who wants to know what is on the horizon. I like to have a plan, to line things up, and to have life run in an orderly fashion. I can hear you laughing because we both know life doesn't work that way. But I really really try to make it do that. I really try to keep things flowing in good order with minimal surprises.
Hurricane Giant Cell Tumor is nothing but one big surprise. There is nowhere to go where I can escape the cone of uncertainty. There is no future where this tumor (or its treatment) are not a lasting part of my life. This hurricane is going to hit no matter what the spaghetti models are showing. I am standing in the path of destruction . . . at least for now.
Tomorrow we head back to my oncologist at the University of Kansas Cancer Center. I have a long list of questions that I have developed these last few weeks and I intend to ask them all. I am also aware that the chance of getting any good answers is slim. There isn't a lot of resolution here. There are no clear directions to take. And my Dr just might not know what the best path forward is.
See what I'm talking about? Cone of uncertainty.
I'll let you know what happens tomorrow.
(If only I had a magic hurricane moving sharpie!)
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