The surgeon who operated on mum sat us, mum, brother and I, down and explained to us what he had done and could not do. The picture clearly shows a large lump encircling the seventh section of the spine down. The "dark" bit is the large tumour measuring some 10 centimetres or so across. And clearly visible is that part of the spinal column, much of which has been "eaten" away by the cancer...
The surgery twelve days ago was a success in that that part of the spine has been cleaned and cleared of as much of the tumour as possible. The spinal column that has rotted away was removed, and replaced with an column. The doctor took out his iPhone and showed us a picture he had taken during the surgery. A large gaping wound held open by metallic supports... I could see what I believe is the nerve, a pinkish long, tube-like structure that extended from the top to the bottom of the incision. There was a lot of blood... I grimaced, and thought about how mum was in that operating room all by herself. Where was I? Still flying, still trying to rush home as quickly as I could...
But mum is not yet clear. A few sections down, around section C8 and T2 there are small traces of the cancer spreading. The kind surgeon said his job is finished, but he recommends further treatment to prevent the possibility of the small traces of the tumour from growing larger. After all, when the cancer in the spine was confirmed around this time last year, she was given the option to operate, which she put off until almost two weeks ago. Within a year, the original tumour grew from a small bit compressing on the spine to a tumour which completely encompassed that region of the spine and which had eaten away the local spinal chord... Cancer is that scary, that rapid, that ruthless...
The parts of the spine with traces of the spreading cancer are localised and small in comparison to the tumour that was just removed. The surgeon said it was too risky to perform surgery, and recommends a new treatment that has only been available for around a decade or so.
The Cyberknife... a form of radiotherapy which uses extremely precise and concentrated lasers to target the problem area, with less side-effects than traditional radiotherapy (which mum received back in April-early June last year...). Some claim that it is very effective, but as it is still a relatively new treatment, there has not been much clinical evidence to support its effectiveness in the long run. And of course, with cancer, every patient responds differently to the treatment...
I could see brother was obviously very effected, for he had no clue about this and was not briefed before today's meeting. I only told him that it's an important one, and that he should be there. My facebook status this morning was "Bravely face everything...", something which he "liked". Perhaps after the consultation with the doctor, he would not be so sure any more...
We asked the doctor a few more questions, and he said he would refer us to a colleague of his at another hospital. Mum can do precise MRI scans and tests in the coming days, and the files will be transferred to the other hospital, and we were advised to make an appointment with this other doctor, who happens to be the head of Neurology.
Afterwards, the three of us sat down and discussed the matter. Mum wants to press forward, to go ahead with the treatment and asked me to make an appointment with the other doctor. I made one. For this coming Saturday.
Mum was confident, and said that she wants to get better. She said hearing the diagnosis from the surgeon who operated on her, and knowing that much of the life threatening and pain-inducing tumour has been removed, she feels lie she has a renewed license to live. She proudly told the surgeon that she wants to go travel. She told him she wants to go attend my graduation in June, and said that I study at McGill... She was very confident, very proud, but brother looked deflated and sad...
And me? What was I feeling? We just have to "bravely face everything" that comes our way...
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