An Update: Abdominal CT Scan

Waiting to meet with one of my radiation oncologists

I had my first CT scan since the original one. Oh boy, I am grateful I didn't do this sooner. I know why my doctor had me wait towards the end of chemo. Scans are the worst! Getting a CT scan isn't so bad, but the anxiety! No thanks. But this is my life now. It's hard to accept sometimes, it's weird to think I'll be getting these scans every few months for the rest of my life, but it is what it is!

About midway through May, I had a morning full of chemo and then 3 hours fasting before my scan that afternoon. I had to drink about 6 oz of the "berry" contrast every 15 minutes 6 times. That's two of these...

 I was feeling yucky, but I had my sister and nephew and some lovely weather to keep me occupied during this time.

Getting a CT scan takes less than 10 minutes. The only prep is fasting and drinking the contrast liquid. You don't need to change into a robe or even take off your jewelry. After lying down on the bed, they set up an IV (or can access your port). Once you slide through the machine, a technician attaches your IV to the CT contrast (don't remember the fancy name). I laid still with my arms above my head, the technicians in the other room, behind a glass window. I can hear them on the monitor telling me they're going to release the contrast. I feel it. It feels like you just drank a hot drink, but from your head to your toes. It goes fast, like 3 seconds which fills your bladder and makes you feel like you peed yourself. Then they slowly move you through the machine. Then they do it again. And you're done!

I only had an abdominal CT, not one on my chest. The way my cancer grew in my breast, it's hard to really see on a CT scan, plus the major lump that was there is obviously gone so there isn't a need (unless there was a need, but there is no need, so...no need!)

Here's what my scan revealed on the state of my liver:

The bigger tumor shrunk almost 90%
The smaller tumor shrunk almost 100%
My doctor said when he presented it to the tumor board, one oncologist suggested what we see in the new scans may be just scar tissue of where the cancer once was. One can only dream.

I attached photos to compare the before and after. The first pair you can see my stomach to the right and I apologize for the pixely image. This is the one I had biopsied because it was easier to get to.

Here is my bigger tumor. You can see the gray shaded area, my doctor measured the diameter.

 And since you just saw my cancery insides, here's a better photo of me and Violet before my appointment with my doctor (I love bringing her with me!)

I was happy to see such a big change in my tumors from all the chemo I endured, however this was a hard appointment for me. It was a reality check, a reminder that yup, I have stage 4 breast cancer. It's in my liver. It's been there growing for whoever knows how long before I had my initial symptom of a rash. I hate this so much. I hate that I'm stage 4, it's the worst part of getting breast cancer. It's every woman's fear when they get breast cancer, that it spread (blah, let's not get into that right now).

 "The horse is out of the barn" is what they say when you have secondary, metastatic, stage 4 breast cancer. The spots on my liver are so small that there were and are no side effects, which is something to be grateful for. Knowing my cancer responded to chemo makes me feel confident in going forward to the next stage of my treatment: Surgery and Radiation.

So the plan from the beginning continues. My doctor and I talked about having stereotactic radio surgery (or cyber knife) to those two spots on my liver. This is radiation to my liver, a very high condensed dose to target those two spots, like a little laser that kills all the tissue it touches. This is the best alternative to having surgery. Essentially, it has the same effect as if I had surgery itself.

In a week from today I go in to see a liver specialist to get started with radio surgery. I'm extremely nervous, I don't know what to expect or how it will feel. All in all I am feeling brave, I feel confident in my aggressive treatment plan, I am proud of my body for taking a good pounding from chemo and still ready for some more. 

Bring it on!