When Todd Goes Low, We Go to... Houston?

 Sometimes I get tired of delivering bad news. I think I'm getting better at it, or maybe it's just that I've developed emotional callouses.

It also makes me think of those who have to deliver the bad news to me.

I had a PET CT today. 

Hope you aren't claustrophobic.

The results were... not good. And, as per usual, my amazing brother, who happens to be a radiologist, looked at the scan and told me what was up. That has to be hard for him. Wanting to give me good news but needing to tell me what's on the scan.

So, what was on the scan?

Those glowy bits are... bad... right?

A lot of Todd.

In my liver. On my spine again, which explains the nasty back pain I've been experiencing lately--I had really hoped I was just being paranoid. I have another vertebra that's on the point of collapsing. L3, I think. I'm just working my way down the spine. Cancer in my abdominal lymph nodes (there's a word for that, but I'm not smart enough to remember what it is, much less spell the damn thing). Also, back in the mediastinal lymph nodes (apparently I am smart enough to remember that one. It's basically back behind my heart. Ish.)

So, everywhere, essentially. This sucker Todd is fast, aggressive and sneaky as all hell. 

Smug, arrogant bastard.

I've been here before. Been in a place where the cancer was everywhere. The challenge we're starting to face is that we're running out of stuff to try. My oncologist called me tonight (TONIGHT, y'all. I love him so much) with a plan. A combination of drugs he thinks might do some damage. And the doctors who are treating me recoded my cancer, so it makes more sense for the insurance company to approve the CAR-T cell therapy. I've reached out to MD Anderson in Houston.

Basically, what I'm saying is that I'm not done. There's a ton of fight left in me. And while it's starting to feel more and more like delusion on my part, I'm still really hopeful.

Let me clarify. I'm hopeful most of the time. It gets dark. It gets ugly. It gets brutal.

That's one of the things about my optimism around this. It's not that I'm ignoring the bad news. It's just kind of irrelevant to me, for the most part. I take it in, use the information to make the best choices I can, but then sit with the feeling... assurance?... that I'm going to beat this.

I can't tell if that's emotionally dysfunctional on my part, or just who I am. Maybe both? But I'm not going to deliver the bad news without telling you the good stuff. That's what I promised to do. I promised to be honest with you. So I'm honestly sharing with you that I don't believe this is going to kill me.

I got too much stuff to do.

And I know it's possible I'm wrong. I'm preparing for that eventuality as well. It's just... well, I don't see things playing out that way.

Actual photograph of me whistling in the dark.

So, I guess I'm going to Houston. Probably.

Ugh.

I grew up in Texas, and we always referred to Houston as the armpit of the state (sorry, Houstonians). It's hot, it's humid (last time I was in the airport, moisture was quite literally dripping off the inside of the windows in the airport), and I find it all around unpleasant.

On the plus side, it's only about three and a half hours away from The Salt Lick, so maybe I can get some fantastic barbecue out of the experience. I'll travel three and a half hours for good smoked meat, y'all.

And it's impossible to fully measure what good barbecue can do for your soul. Good for my body? Almost assuredly not. But I think it might heal what ails me. And their sauce is... well, it's pretty much the nectar of the gods. 

I guess what I'm saying is that there are experiences out there for me. Ones that I want to share with my family. Those spur me on in the dark times. How can I leave without introducing my wife to Spain? How can I just abandon my post when my kids haven't tasted authentic French Brie with crusty bread? My heart longs to visit Ireland, Scotland, England, Denmark, and, and, and...

Can't do that if I'm dead. So, I'll give that old specter the slip for now. Beg, borrow, and possibly steal (sorry, Mom) to get to all of those places.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,/But I have promises to keep,/ And miles to go before I sleep,/

And miles to go before I sleep."

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Up next... I wax poetic about really old trees. This one may actually happen, y'all.