Gather up your courage and fight
Late March, Jim and I packed our bags with lots of hope and belief and made our way to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester. We had two days of appointments, starting with blood tests, a CT Scan, PET Scan, and then, consultations with both Nurse Jessica in Oncology and then, Dr. Truty and his team.
With time in between appointments, we set out to explore the maze known as the Mayo Campus, along with the extended retail shops and restaurants that have built up around it. The Mayo buildings on this central campus are located on multiple city blocks that are interconnected by tunnels or walkways that sit below street level. One of my first happy discoveries was to find a Caribou Coffee at the end of the first tunnel we explored. Caribou coffee houses feel like home to me; where friends and I have been found sharing our life's ups and downs, among tears of laughter, joy, fear and sadness.
Jim and I found our prized places to eat and shop. Our explorations created a great distraction from the weighty conversations and mind battles that were becoming common place. Beyond where the foot traffic transitioned from tunnels to skyways above the street, there is a mall that became one of our destinations. Out in front of this mall is a water fountain where the people and birds flock in the summertime. Bodies of water seem to sooth my soul and help me to connect with God's creation. As spring turns to summer, this was another place we would visit that would help me breathe easier, reflect and find peace.
After hustling back to the campus for my PET scan, I waited briefly in the lobby to be seen. From the time my name was called, to my return to Jim in the waiting area, I think the entire process took two hours. My primary role was to lay as still as possible inside a tube for approximately 45 minutes just as done in an MRI. Before this, I was being fitted with what seemed like a hockey, goalie mask. First ear plugs, a cage fastened to my head, and then, pads were shoved under the sides of my body to wedge me in place. It was humorous to me, when I thought that I might look a bit like Devan Dubnyk, the goalie for the Minnesota Wild.
The next day, Dr. Truty laid out the proposed plan. He would perform a staging laparoscopy with cytology to identify or disprove the presence of local, regional, or metastatic disease at the same visit where the port would be placed. I was also scheduled for an ultrasound of my gallbladder to assess whether there was a lesion, as seemed to be indicated by my PET scan. Arrangements were made for these procedures to take place the following week on the day after my Aunt Rosie's funeral.
Chemotherapy would begin shortly after this and the team determined that I would be a good candidate to receive a drug called Folfirinox. From what I understood the typical demographic that is susceptible to pancreatic cancer is older than me, and may not be able to withstand the effects of this drug. Follow-up appointments would be in two months to repeat triple phase CT chest, abdomen, and pelvis, scans as well as the PET and to review all tumor markers to assess my body's response.
I was sure God was with me. I was sure He was going to heal me. I set my sights on powering through the next two months doing the best that I could and while believing for a miraculous healing.
