Living Life, Scan to Scan
It is so hard to put into words, but our lives lately are lived scan to scan.
Hutton’s last scan was not what we expected or what we wanted to hear (the cancer grew). So we pivoted to a new treatment plan.
This is why we are so grateful to be at UCLA and with her team. They see that something isn’t working as it should, so instead of wasting time to “see what happens”, they have enough experience and knowledge, and willingness to change, that they pivot and try something new… and then we scan to see if it is working.
After each treatment, we try to put the scan out of our mind until it happens, but in all honesty it is always there, every single day, every single prayer, “PLEASE SHOW NO CANCER IS PRESENT.” “PLEASE LET THIS TREATMENT BE THE ONE THAT KILLS THIS CANCER FOR GOOD.” But the waiting, the uncertainty, the worry of what the cancer “could” be doing while we are waiting. it wears on us mentally and physically, 24 hours a day/ 7 days a week. So, we try and distract ourselves by making the most out of life between those scans, by giving Hutton the best life and giving her the opportunity to build the happiest memories, while she can and when she can. If she is feeling good, then we try to plan something for her to enjoy…at least while we know the “plan” and are waiting to see what comes next.
After the last scan, we did chemo and a new/experimental immunotherapy, designed to allow Hutton’s own body and what are called “Killer T-Cells” to grow strong and fight the cancer. We had the schedule, and we knew what to expect…as much as we could.
In between when Hutton was feeling good, we tried to live our life as much as we could because we don’t know what the next scan will show. We don’t know what the next treatment schedule will look like, or what it will do to her. That’s why when we say we live scan to scan, we mean it.
After her scan this Monday, we once again play the torturous waiting game, praying her doctor will call with good news, but we have no idea. We have no idea what will come next or what her schedule will look like. Will we continue with this treatment plan? Will we have to switch to a treatment plan that has us back to being inpatient? Will we have to move up to UCLA and do outpatient treatment daily? We just don’t know.
Everything after next week is unknown, and everything could change with one simple phone call. Will Hutton be able to go trick-or-treating? Will we be home for Thanksgiving…for Christmas? We just don’t know…and boy does it suck.
