Or, When Coccidioidomycosis Is The Least Of Your Concerns
One week ago, I went under the knife to finally -- as in, after close to two months of anxious waiting -- determine what had caused a nodule to swell up on my left lung, and one of my lymph nodes to go through the roof inflammation-wise. As I wrote here many times after my initial "uh-oh" following a CT scan in August, the fear was that my cancer had come back. TC typically hits the lymphatic system... and while the lungs are less likely to metastasize, it's been known to happen (as it did for arguably the most famous testicular cancer survivor to date, Lance Armstrong.)
So, after weeks of tests and various stalling procedures by Blue Cross Blue Shield, I had my biopsy done Tuesday morning. I woke up in the recovery room four hours later, doped to the gills on morphine and barely aware of, well, anything, except the nurses coming in every two hours to take my blood ox level and heart rate.
But the preliminary news was encouraging.
"Your lung nodule was definitely an infection, and not cancer," my oncologist said with a cheer in his voice Wednesday. "And so far, everything shows your lymph node (which was located near the affected lung) was reacting to that. You're doing OK, my friend," Dr. B added -- the first time he's ever called me that.
More tests, more doctors before I was discharged Thursday at noon -- with all of them saying more or less the same thing. "It looks like an infection." "The frozen dissection of the lymph node was reactionary, not indicative of a tumor." "Maybe it's mold."
So... what is it? Well, we don't know for sure yet -- and there's still a chance some oblique test may show a trace of Something Bad -- but the infectious disease doctor who came by to see me Thursday morning seemed VERY interested in the fact I was from New Mexico, and had just been back in August -- right before the CT showed the swellings.
"You may have valley fever," he told me. Which isn't a walk in the park -- it's a fungal infection, common in dry, windy locations -- but it's not cancer, either. It's also not contagious, and only rarely life-threatening. So far, it seems my body was doing its job in combating the infection... and it's likely I never would have noticed anything other than a croupy cough, except that I get CT scans done every three months as part of the observation regime for TC. It probably would have gone away on its own.
So... good news. I'm still scared, of course -- a trait I've determined will follow me for the rest of my life -- but the news is a LOT better than we could have hoped for a week ago at this time. I haven't allowed myself the luxury of relief yet... that comes when ALL the tests are back... but I have noticed my blood pressure has dropped noticeably in the past seven days.
But, I mean, wow... what a difference a year makes. If you would have told me then...
So, after weeks of tests and various stalling procedures by Blue Cross Blue Shield, I had my biopsy done Tuesday morning. I woke up in the recovery room four hours later, doped to the gills on morphine and barely aware of, well, anything, except the nurses coming in every two hours to take my blood ox level and heart rate.
But the preliminary news was encouraging.
"Your lung nodule was definitely an infection, and not cancer," my oncologist said with a cheer in his voice Wednesday. "And so far, everything shows your lymph node (which was located near the affected lung) was reacting to that. You're doing OK, my friend," Dr. B added -- the first time he's ever called me that.
More tests, more doctors before I was discharged Thursday at noon -- with all of them saying more or less the same thing. "It looks like an infection." "The frozen dissection of the lymph node was reactionary, not indicative of a tumor." "Maybe it's mold."
So... what is it? Well, we don't know for sure yet -- and there's still a chance some oblique test may show a trace of Something Bad -- but the infectious disease doctor who came by to see me Thursday morning seemed VERY interested in the fact I was from New Mexico, and had just been back in August -- right before the CT showed the swellings.
"You may have valley fever," he told me. Which isn't a walk in the park -- it's a fungal infection, common in dry, windy locations -- but it's not cancer, either. It's also not contagious, and only rarely life-threatening. So far, it seems my body was doing its job in combating the infection... and it's likely I never would have noticed anything other than a croupy cough, except that I get CT scans done every three months as part of the observation regime for TC. It probably would have gone away on its own.
So... good news. I'm still scared, of course -- a trait I've determined will follow me for the rest of my life -- but the news is a LOT better than we could have hoped for a week ago at this time. I haven't allowed myself the luxury of relief yet... that comes when ALL the tests are back... but I have noticed my blood pressure has dropped noticeably in the past seven days.
But, I mean, wow... what a difference a year makes. If you would have told me then...
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