Kicking Cancer's Butt

So, here is the scan I had last week:Compare it to the one in the post below -- see any change? Well, neither did the specialists at Cedars-Sinai! Bottom line, the news is mostly good. The cancer has not progressed, so the chemo is working.  Officially:

If you can't read it, the important part starts on line four:  "...the region does not show any evidence of enhancement or other signs of active disease.  It is unchanged from the study 11/20/07.  There are no new pathologic findings in the rest of the brain and specifically, no evidence of additional mass."  Yeah!  That's the good news, but that's also the bad news -- since the chemo appears to be working, we're going to continue on chemotherapy as long as it proves to be effective. That means finishing the next seven rounds of chemo in this cycle, then perhaps starting over for another year...or two...or five...however long it takes. Make no mistake, chemo is miserable -- but I'll manage. At least we've found something that can stop the progression...so, I'm back to kicking cancer's butt, one round at time.

So, how do you celebrate a pretty good diagnosis and prognosis? A run in the Mojave Desert, of course! After the medical appointments, Pooh and I spent a day doing photography in the Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve near Lancaster, CA. After hiking a bit in the reserve, I was pressed for time, so only got 6 miles in...but it was in the high desert. I've never really run in the desert before -- I've spent most of my time in the Midwest and Northwest -- WOW!  It was hot, dry, and a few thousand feet above sea-level Monterey, so 6 miles felt like about 10. But, isn't running in new places and trying new routes part of the fun? Isn't some of the joy of running found in trying new roads, exploration, and getting personal with terrain that just flies by in a car? I'm always amazed when I run a road that I've driven many times...the things I notice that I never would have seen, even completely insignificant, like litter or glass. Running roads will actually change the way you drive. And isn't is odd how driving on a road you've run a hundred times feels almost personal? Don't believe me? Try driving Big Sur after running the Big Sur Marathon. Trust me -- it will never be the same again.

So, the Mojave run kicked my butt (could you imagine Badwater?). But I'm kicking cancer's butt, again. As butt-kicking goes, I think I've got the edge.  The cancer is still there, but hasn't grown in the last six months.  Is that a victory?  Sure.  Remember, to win a race, you don't need your opponent to drop out -- you just need to be one step ahead when you cross the finish line.