(that’s not my spine…but it’s the closest I could find that replicated my images. I hope it helps give a bit of context)

Today we received both good news and bad news. Here’s the good news:

• My brain, lower back, and upper back are clean and tumor free. The squiggles are nothing to be worried about and it appears as though there’s absolutely no reason to worry that my cancer has metastasized to any other part of my central nervous system.
• Symptomatically my body is showing very little signs of unhealth. My body continues to improve (these days I don’t even us my crutch to get around!), my mobility is getting better, my energy level continues to grow, and my brain continues (as it’s always been…right?) sharp as a tack.
• We have a plan of attack for the upcoming year. After all the mystery over the last few months its nice, at the very least, to know what’s ahead of us once again.

The bad news is that it appears as though the tumor in my spinal cord has grown. While there’s been no new growth anywhere else, the growth of the original tumor itself is quite clear. All along the oncologist has made it clear that it was very possible that my post-radiation MRI could look worse due to radiation damage, scar tissue, etc. And while this is still true and a possibility, the scans seem to show pretty unmistakably tumor-like growth. Additionally, as a board of oncologists, radiologists, neuroscientists, surgeons, pathologists, and others gathered around my info this morning (prior to my appointment with my oncologist) the pathologist who originally gave me the GBM (level IV cancer) diagnosis made a strong recommendation to bring that cancer back to the table. There was additional info that led her to believe that there might be a ‘chunk’ or small tiny piece of level four cancer in there that shouldn’t be ignored.

The overwhelming and unanimous decision of the board was to move forward as if it was a higher level cancer because the risk/reward was much in my favor to do so. Their recommendation then was that I take chemotherapy medicine for the next year. What this looks like is that every four weeks for one year I would take oral chemo pills for five days. The expectation is that I will be more tired during those five days and for maybe a week following. Unlike when I was on chemo previously I will not be undergoing radiation treatments, I will not be recovering from major surgery, and (hopefully) won’t be recovering from blood clots and a pulmonary embolism. So it shouldn’t lay me flat like the previous series did!

In a sense I came away from this morning feeling somewhat hopeful. It felt good to know that my brain was clean. It felt good to know what to expect for the future. It felt good to anticipate a series of treatments that seems doable (it doesn’t sound overwhelming to take pills five days a month and be tired for ten).

In reality, however, few of the things listed above should make me feel good or hopeful. The reality is that while the cancer hasn’t appeared anywhere else, the fact that it’s growing communicates that we are indeed dealing with an aggressive form of cancer…not good. What SHOULD bring hope and make me feel good is that, as always, my life (and yours) is about so much more than simply extending life but about truly experiencing it! It’s about making something of it, about living something beautiful, and about leaving a legacy. I wish Jesus would use his Jesus-powers and magically zap this stuff out of here…but that’s not the story I’ve been invited to tell…

…yet??