CATs PETs MRIs, OMG

(Part the third)

At this time, I had another MRI, another CAT scan and a PET scan. They are all similar where you are put on an uncomfortable flat board and fed into a hole going through a big noisy machine. MRIs are the noisiest, they sound like a washing machine filled with jackhammers. CAT and PET scans are quiet but are boring and claustrophobic. When you have a CAT scan you have to drink this horrible ‘shake’, which is invariably ‘banana’ ‘flavored’. It’s either to irradiate your insides or cause you to throw up, I forget which. When they gave me the PET scan to make extra sure that I wouldn’t move or see them laughing at me, the technician actually taped my head to the board. They also have music piped into headphones to mask some of the machines’ noise. On this visit, they played ‘Spirit in the Sky’ where they sing about where you go when you die, which was really thoughtful of some programmer.

Dr. Hu, who coincidentally plays tennis with Dr. Coit, thought I should consult with a fourth doctor, Dr. Blum (not to be confused with Doctor Bloom). Being the head of Oncology at Beth Israel he knew a lot of doctors and their specialties. One that he knew was a Dr. Alexander Marie Eggermont of the Netherlands. He does a process called an isolated limb perfusion to sarcomas of the arms or legs and after checking all my tests and a library’s-worth of paperwork, told me I would be an ideal candidate for the procedure.

The Story of my Leg

In 2001, I was diagnosed with what appeared to be a blood clot behind my right knee. I was briefly hospitalized and started taking Coumadin. In 2003 I had a recurrence. At this time, my leg started curving inward. My doctor reassured me it was just swelling from the blood clot. On January 15th 2004 I saw a vascular surgeon to have a Doppler scan of the clot. Instead, the technicians scanned the inner part of my right knee and freaked out. Instead of being edema, I appeared to have a tumor the size of a grapefruit wrapped around my knee. They told me to go to my regular doctor’s office and wait there. When I arrived Dr. Hirschman told me to see his associate Dr. Bloom, a surgical oncologist who shared an office with him. Dr. Bloom introduced himself my sticking a thick needle into my leg with no anesthesia and I tried to ignore the pain by fixating on his blood-caked fingernails. I was sent out for a CAT scan and an MRI and told to come back next week.

On my next visit Dr. Bloom told me that the results came back as a low-grade firbosarcoma, a stage 2B (there are only four stages). Sarcomas are very rare and do not respond to chemotherapy or radiation and most often have to be surgically removed rather drastically with very wide margins. He then cut to the chase and flat out recommended amputation of 75% of my right leg. I tried hard not to puke, or pass out or puke and pass out. My cousin who was with me asked me if I was okay. The doctor snapped, ‘Of course she’s not okay, I just told her I need to amputate her leg!’ Oh and by the way, I had two weeks to make up my mind about the surgery, which he claimed he had performed hundreds of times. Through my tears I asked him that if I get a prosthetic limb do I also get an eye patch and a parrot? Silence from Dr. Bloom. Not a fan of pirate jokes I guess.