When the Big “C” Knocks on the Door

Last year, 2025, was coming to an end, and our life looked really good.  I had started eating healthy last spring and exercising daily.  We had a wonderful summer spending time with family and friends in Missouri.  Dennis’s heart optimizer was running just as it was designed to do.  We could hike on the mountain together and we were feeling good and fit.

Then there was a knock on the door.  It was a little “c”.  No big deal, a couple tests and maybe a biopsy, and then we are good to go again.  We have a birthday celebration (a milestone one for Dennis), a college graduation of a granddaughter, a 10-day tour of Israel, and a month spending with friends and family in Missouri, and possibly a trip to Glacier National Park.  

KNOCK!  KNOCK!  KNOCK!   Who’s calling?  Who was this small “c” asking for when the door was answered?  Me!  Really? 

I have been told by doctors that I have an excellent immune system.  I hardly ever get sick.  So why would this happen?

January of last year I went to St. Louis and visited the daughter of my dear friend (who passed away several years ago).  She was in treatment for cancer of her salivary glands.  I shared with her that I have had in the past a few salivary gland stones.  She told me to get a CT scan to make sure it wasn’t more than that.  My doctor ordered a scan of my head and neck, and although I have some atrophy of those glands, everything was okay.  The scan showed that I had some nodules in my lungs are common to have after having Valley Fever, which I had two years ago.  My primary care doctor ordered a follow up CT scan of my chest which was done on December 11.  The nodules were still there, but it showed something on my liver.  The radiology report stated that a CT scan with contrast was needed to identify what was going on.  So, I had a CT scan with contrast of my chest, abdomen, and pelvis on December 26.  Same results. 

When the first result happened in early December, an AI program at MD Anderson Cancer Center scans all results done at Banner Imaging facilities (the largest hospital group in AZ). When it sees words like “nodule” or “mass”, it makes an automated call to the doctor who ordered the test to request a consultation with the patient.  I had that consultation December 23.  It is amazing, because they are not waiting for symptoms of which I have none.  In fact, my blood tests taken that day and also this week were all within range, and my lymph nodes are clear.  I think that is good, but I’m not a doctor!  I feel great.  So, that’s where we were.  

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!   Who’s calling?  The “c” is a bit bigger.  

The biopsy was completed January 29, and the results stated that I have a neuroendocrine tumor in my liver. 

Before you start googling “neuroendocrine tumor,” let me tell you more. This is a rare form of cancer.  When the person who called told me this, she instructed me of two things: 1) I am see the oncologist at MD Anderson CancerCenter the next Monday morning, and 2) I am to get a neck to knee PET scan.  I assumed that the meeting will be a meet and greet with the oncologist since it will happen before the PET scan.  He will tell me how they attack this kind of tumor and what kind of options I have.

On Monday, February 9, Dennis and I went to visit the oncologist at MD Anderson.  It is a good practice that when visiting a doctor about something important one should bring another person with them.  It helps to have an extra set of ears.  

As I entered the examination room, my vitals were taken by the nurse and said the doctor would be in shortly.  A few minutes later he came in.  I didn’t know why he looked surprised when he met me.

He started talking about what he saw in the CT scan.  There was something definitely in my liver and it wasn’t small.  In fact, he said it is quite large and growing.  

KNOCK!  KNOCK! KNOCK!  Who’s calling?  It’s the BIG “C” calling Andrea.  What?  Did I hear that doctor correctly?  

He then stopped, looked at me dead in the face and stated, “If you do no treatment, you will be dead in 3 months.”  He definitely got our attention.

Did he say I have three months to live?  Then I remembered that he said that if I did nothing, blah, blah, blah.  I think he is telling me I need to do something.  As he was stating what to him was a fact, all I could see was a word running across the wall saying, “Judy”. “Judy”. “Judy”. My sister Judy was diagnosed with tumors in her liver (a different kind), and she lived slightly over three months after diagnosis.

He continued, bringing my mind back into the room.  He said I need a combination of chemo and immunotherapy.  He stated that chemo could reduce the tumors, but only immunotherapy can cure the cancer.  Okay, I’m good with that.

He continued, and once again, said something that sent shock waves through Dennis and me.  He said there is no time to waste, and the process needs to start immediately.  Scheduling set me up for three infusion dates, next Monday 2/16, Tuesday 2/17, and Wednesday 2/18.  He wasn’t kidding.  That is in just a few days.

There was one other thing that he said, and I think it’s important—at least, I hope it is extremely important.  He told me I was in good physical condition. He said he was surprised to see me looking how I did because I should be showing big symptoms, be on oxygen, or in a wheelchair.  Nothing about this is typical to him.  The fact that my lymph nodes are clear is a real puzzlement to him.  He told me not to lose any more weight, and to continue my exercising that I have done.  That will help the immunotherapy work even better.

My PET scan was Wednesday, 2/11.  A pet scan is like laying on a bed as it goes back and forth through a donut looking machine. 

 I got a call that I was going to get a port.  A port?  I just got back from a cruise—I had gotten to many ports.  I’m going to get another?  

Oh, no maybe they meant to bring my wine glass so they could pour some port in it?  No?  

Okay, it’s a medical port that goes under the skin that allows infusion to be done so they don’t have to continually poke the vein which can cause veins to collapse.  I got a port placed today, 2/12.  It was simple—I’m a little sore, but that should be okay in a day or so. 

Wow!  This is moving at a high rate of speed.  These people at MD Anderson are not slackers!  They even answer phone calls.  What a surprise that was.  I’m so used to calling a medical office and never finding a real human.

The Thursday after chemo will be a brain MRI.  With the PET scan, brain MRI, some specific genetic blood testing, a complete and full diagnosis should be available.  Although there could be a change in the type of cancer, whatever kind it is, it needs to have immediate treatment.

So, my friends, the bottom line is that I have cancer.  I cannot believe I have used that word.  It is foreign to my mouth.  I feel good.  I didn’t know I was supposed to feel any different.  Life is not guaranteed.  I am aware of that.  I am also a fighter, and now is my chance to fight a good fight!

I hope you are not offended by me using some humor in this blog.  That is how I process.  This is very serious.  I am very aware how critical this is for my well being, but humor has and always will help me get through life.  

God is Sovereign and he is always good.

Your prayers are appreciated.