Here we go... Again.

For those of you who may not have been keeping track, I was due for my quatro-annual (yeah, I'm making up words for something I do four times a year) MRI and visit to the oncologist this month. I had the MRI on the 3rd. My follow-up with the oncologist was on the 12th. And...

I'm so sorry to have to report that my guts have gone and grown another tumor. (Honestly. After the very stern talk I had with them this time last year, I'd have thought they'd have learned their lesson, but no.)

The MRI showed a two centimeter sized "spot" growing just below my left kidney. (Sound familiar? I swear, sometimes I think my life is on a constant replay loop. The bright side? At least it's not 22.5 lbs. I mean, really, if I'm gonna grow a deja vu tumor, copy-catting a little guy is the way to go.)

Here's the plan of attack: medication. Probably a little bit of a chemo cocktail. (Awesome.) Obviously, the plan of cutting tumors out as they grow is a good one, as that gets the buggers out of me - but, at this rate, that would be the third tumor removal surgery in less than two years. And while I am incredibly grateful that I happen to get the kind of cancer that can generally just be cut right out of me and not the kind that spreads through my blood like wildfire, having multiple surgeries every year is not how I want to live my life. It is also not how my oncologist wants me to live my life. While the surgery does get rid of the tumors, there seems to be a deeper issue here, is what I'm saying. An issue that my doctors would like to get to the bottom of, if possible.

This is how it is slated (as of now) to go down:

1) CT on my chest/lungs - STAT (it's scheduled for tomorrow morning, actually). This is because, when sarcomas recur, they have a high statistic of causing lung cancer as a secondary condition. ... Now, I'm not particularly worried about that, because I've had liposarcomas twice now (three times, if you count this new little guy) and I'm at a zero count for lung cancer. But... I will do what my doctors tell me to do. A girl can't be too careful. And besides, CT's don't give me the heebie-jeebies like MRI's do.

2) While the doc is waiting for the results of the CT to come in, he'll be reaching out to specialists in the area to see where my best fit will be for a referral. As much as I do love (and I do LOVE) that sweet man, at this point, I need a sarcoma specialist - so he's gonna pass me along the line. We're hoping that a former colleague of his at the new MD Anderson Cancer Center will be able to take me. He can't recommend her or this clinic highly enough, and he's hopeful that they'll have something for me, as "they specialize in hard to treat/hard to cure cancers". (I love that he talks like this - I also love that I can now refer to myself as "hard to treat/hard to cure". Sick and twisted, but true.)

MD Anderson is, right now, my preferred option because I so love their tagline of "The future of hope is here", and I like that they line through the word cancer, like it doesn't exist anymore. I have hope, and I want cancer to be eradicated from the very face of the planet, so I feel like this clinic and I are on the same team.

If, after he talks to his friend there, he finds that they don't currently have something they can fit me into, we'll most likely go back to nice folks at TGen Research. You may remember how, last year, I went and interviewed for participation in a clinical trial that was scheduled to start in May 2011 aimed at treating various forms of sarcoma tumors. At the time, I didn't qualify (because I wasn't currently packing a tumor) - but now I do qualify (and I have the MRI film with a little white spot on it to prove it). The second option is more of a clinical trial option. I'm not going to lie, I'd prefer the first option (read: cross your fingers, rub your rosary, bow your head and pray that MD Anderson will work out), simply because I'd rather take medicine that someone else has taken than truly be a guinea pig. But if, after doing some research, being a guinea pig is the best option for me right now, I'll do it.

I've said it before and I'm sure I'll say it again: I hate the cancer. I hate it with a deep, dark passion and I will do whatever I can do to fight it. That means I will fight it in my own body. It also means that I will let doctors look at my dna, code my tumors and try to find a way to make THIS kind of cancer stop, if that's what they want/need to do. I. Will. Do. Whatever. I. Can. Do. To. Beat. This.

So, to recap: I'd prefer MD Anderson ... but I'll totally be a TGen guinea pig if that looks like it'll be a better option. We'll see - and of course I'll keep you posted.

And for those of you who may be wondering what will happen if this little tumor of mine starts to grow like gangbusters, I'll go ahead and proceed to the next step.

3) I'll have another MRI in 3-4 weeks to chart the growth of said tumor. They aren't going to biopsy it right now, because chances are it just is what it is and they want to try something that isn't surgery first. The hope is that, with some molecular restructuring (fancy words for what will most likely be chemotherapy), they'll be able to shrink the tumor, or at least stop it from getting bigger. The ultimate hope is that, with treatments aimed specifically at this TYPE of tumor, they'll be able to change my body - so whatever it is that makes me grow these stupid things can be re-programmed. It is fairly safe to assume that the tumor will almost double in size in the 3-4 weeks that it will take to get to the point of the next MRI (that's what it did last year in the same time frame). Liposarcomas grow quickly, but it's small enough that doubling size shouldn't impact my health at all. I've been told that they will monitor the growth and changes, and if things start to go off a predictable chart, they'll go in and operate and remove the tumor just like they have before.

And that's really all I know right now. 1) Get a CT. 2) My current primary oncologist is trying to find me a new home. 3) I'll have an MRI in a month or so to see how things have changed in there.

Other than those three key points, it's another game of Hurry Up and Wait.

Welcome to my life.

The good news is, I've played this game before (with slightly altered rules, but I have played it), so I can wait. Currently, my next follow-up with my doctor is scheduled for the 30th. ... I don't think it'll be that long before I see him, but that's what's on the books. (He needs the CT results and a plan for where he'll put me, and I don't think either of those will take any longer than through the end of this week.)

Once I know where my new home will be, I'll make appointments to go in and talk to the new doctor(s) and I'll have more information. This post was purely to put information out there.

So, it's back. I kind of hate that, but I can't change it, so I'm working with it.

I am, as always, grateful that the tumors I grow have nothing to do with my lifestyle. There is no correlation between my getting cancer and what I put into my body, or any choices I've made in my past. I'm so incredibly grateful that, while this is, to date, the hugest (and officially most often recurring) trial of my life, I have no guilt associated with the condition of my health. That has been such a blessing.

I am grateful for parents who raised me to find the blessings in times of trial, for siblings and sisters-in-law who I know would move heaven and earth for me if they could, for extended family who love me like ... well, like I'm not actually extended family ... for friends who ask me to call them at 4:00 in the morning because they know I can't sleep right now. I'm grateful for all of the people who have already facebooked, texted, called or emailed to ask what they can do. I am the luckiest cancer patient I know. (Said with an eye roll, but it's totally a true thing.)

I posted something earlier this month in regards to hoping that 2012 would be a pain free year. It won't be, this I know. But what I also know is that the harder this stupid disease gets, the more love I feel. I can't explain it, I can't quantify it, but I know that's what happens - because I've lived through it. Twice. I have my reading public (and a whole lot of other people who love me, but don't love the www) to thank for that. So, thank you. Thank you in advance for reading what I have to say and for loving me so much that it blows my freaking mind.