Elevated Tumor Markers

I have two friends in hospice care right now, and I feel a bit self-absorbed even writing about my slightly elevated tumor markers. I saw the radiation oncologist last week, and I had a great report. My blood pressure was good, I felt good and I was glad to be finished with another doctor's visit. The next day I saw my regular oncologist. Blood was drawn for my CBC, my complete metabolic panel and my tumor markers. The CBC was done right away, and the numbers were all good. The CMP came back on Thursday morning, and those numbers were also good.

The results on the tumor markers take a bit longer as they take the blood and mix an antibody with it to see how it reacts. Those results came back on Thursday afternoon, and they were up from last time, so the doctor was setting up a PET scan to check for more cancer. I wasn't expecting this news, and we had just arrived at the beach for our mini-vacation that Barry won last summer in a Facebook Contest about Gulf Shores. We stood in the parking lot of the condo, and Barry held me as I cried. I couldn't shake the sadness, and I literally wept for two hours. I even texted Traci and Kelsey the results because I knew I couldn't talk to them without crying. It was tough.

After hearing from my prayer circles, I started feeling better. I knew there was nothing I could do about the situation while I was at the beach, so I put on my PMA (positive mental attitude) and enjoyed the rest of the trip. It also helped that I saw dolphins swimming by each day. Who wouldn't have a good attitude when they see that?

For the technical explanation of my tumor markers, when I finished chemo last March, my numbers were at 35.5. Normal is 38 or below. A few weeks after my last chemo, my numbers rose to 39, and that's why Dr. Obaji sent me for a PET scan in May. The scan was clear, so my higher numbers didn't mean anything at the time.

At my next visit, my numbers were in the mid-30s, and then in November, my tumor markers were at 37.5--creeping back up. Last week, they were 40.2, so I'm on my way to get a new PET scan this week. Once again, you can think you've escaped from the clutches of cancer, but it will find you if only to freak you out for a week or so until you know what the heck is happening inside your body. Although time is moving, it is standing still for me as I ponder the what ifs.

And in all honesty, my life has resumed a normal ebb and flow over the past months, and I like it. There are things I want to do and that I will do, but it's almost as if a limiter has been placed on me until I hear the results of the scan.

My friend, Tracy, described me this week to another cancer survivor, and she said, "Vicki's the kind of person who is an over-achiever, someone who has to have the highest score on everything. It's probably the same way with her tumor markers!" I'm hoping she's right. (Although I don't know if this is how I would describe me, lol.)

I do know that I'm going to be okay on this journey. I'm sitting here thinking about my friends in hospice, and I'm praying for their comfort and for their freedom from fear. I'm praying for their families, too.

Cancer really bites and it is no respecter of persons, and I don't like it disrespecting me or my friends and family. Please pray that I have a good PET scan and that cancer will leave me alone. Forever!