Of all my doctors the most aloof is my oncologist. He seems like a learned man which I value greatly. He’s just not warm and fuzzy.
I was hoping his office had results from my blood drawn Wednesday. They had it, but the lab hadn’t given me all the tests requested. One more. Just five minutes. Roll up your sleeve.
And with that I set a new Geoff Fox out-of-hospital record for three IVs in three days!
The doctor came in a few minutes later holding papers.
“Your CEA is 1.2,” he said.
Over time you learn the nomenclature. This afternoon CEA meant nothing.
“It means we see no cancer.”
OMG. He said that.
I mentioned the recent articles I’d read about KRAS and breakthroughs close enough to taste. I asked if I’d live long enough to benefit?
“You might not even need them,” he deadpanned.
Holy shit. Seriously. Holy damn shit. He said I’d live.
My treatment will continue. Chemo and radiation will keep me busy for six months. We must make sure as much can be killed as is possible.
The problem with pancreatic cancer is it never fully goes away. My body has a genetic disposition to produce these rogue cancer cells. It’s produced them before. It can produce them again.
I don’t think it’s possible to have gotten better news than I got today.