March 16

                Today is the day that I officially begin the series of tests that will tell us more about how far the cancer has spread and what my treatment schedule will officially look like. The testing started at 9 am with a PET scan. I knew that it was a more intensive scan that the CT scan we did Friday, but I hadn't really been given any instructions on how to prepare for it. I assume that was because everything was just moving so fast and no one had time to get anything to me. Fortunately I did some research on my own and knew that I wasn't supposed to do any exercise at least 24 hours before, and to not eat that morning. Hoping I hadn't missed any other important instructions we left for the appointment.

                Turns out the worst part of a PET scan is how boring they are. In order for the radioactive sugar tracer injection they give you to work you have to sit still and quite for 45 minutes. This is so your muscles and brain don’t absorb too much of the tracer. Because cancer cells are so active they tend to attract the tracer most, causing them to appear as bright spots on the scan. This doesn't work if you are being active or even reading because then your muscles and brain show up too brightly.

                After sitting around with no distractions they put you in the scanner, with your arms above your head and tell you to not move. I had no idea it was that difficult to be still. It takes about 25 minutes to get the scan and in that entire time you can’t move even your toes, so that all the images they take turn out the way they should. I was even afraid to dose off and nap because I twitch in my sleep. After an eternity of lying there with my hands going numb I passed! Everything look good and I wouldn't have to repeat it. Thank goodness to, being that still is not my talent. Now it was time to go on to the next test.

                This next test that day was the bone marrow biopsy. This was the one I was the most afraid of. Chase had been helpfully been telling me all about the large needle they stab down into your hip bone and about how the numbing doesn't reach that deep. Even the doctor had mentioned that this procedure would cause some “discomfort” and that it would not be fun. Armed with that helpful knowledge I braced myself like a spy going into the enemy torture chamber.

                Our nurse was a very sweet and helpful lady, who has a son my age and was genuinely sad to see someone so young in the office. While she was doing some blood tests and getting things prepped, Kelly (the scheduling magician) asked Chase to come talk to her. She had managed to get us an appointment at the fertility clinic at the University of Utah! The only issue was that it was scheduled for that day, and we needed to head down there right after we were done with the bone marrow biopsy. But we knew we had to get started on this fertility preservation as soon as possible if we didn't want to delay cancer treatment for too long.

                 The ordeal of the marrow biopsy turned out to be not quite as bad as I had been fearing. I was given several large shots of lidocaine to numb the area, and I think I had been expecting much more pain. It still wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't as awful as I had expected, although to be fair I was preparing for a Spanish inquisition style torture rack. Chase seemed to love watching the procedure and made jokes with the doctor and nurse the entire time. Even as I was squeezing his hand and trying not to yell, he was asking what one tool or another did and what was the doctor doing now.

                 Our doctor already had the results from the CT scan we had done Friday and there were looking promising. Obviously there was cancer in my neck, but he didn't really see any other spots. This gave us hope that we had caught it very early and that treatment would be short. However, we wouldn't know that for sure until the results of the PET scan came in. The CT scan often has trouble finding small spots of cancer, but at least we knew there weren't any bulky lumps to be worried about.

                Once that was all over we jumped in our car and started the drive down to Salt Lake. I couldn't believe it was only noon! It’s amazing how many things can happen in such a short amount of time. The hour and a half ride down to Salt Lake was pretty normal. We got ahold of my mom on our drive down to see if she could meet us at the fertility clinic. We knew that this would be the most complicated part of the whole insurance process and wanted her to be around to ask the right questions.

                At that first visit we met with a nurse, who talked us through what the process of fertility preservation entailed (retrieving eggs, fertilizing them, and then freezing the resulting embryos to be used later). After that we met with the financial consultant there. He was amazing and helped us understand the paperwork we needed to do to qualify for a program that was designed to help people like me pay for these fertility treatments. Most often, insurances won’t cover these procedures at all, even for young cancer patients, because it is not “medically necessary” for the treatment of my cancer. So to help out there is a foundation that provides all of the hormone medications for free (several thousand dollars worth), as well as the actual doctor services such as ultrasounds and actual egg retrieval at a deeply discounted rate. It was only because of these programs that we were able to have this option and I am so grateful. I know we are hoping to not have to use the frozen embryos, but there is no guarantee that will happen. The peace of mind that comes from having options down the road, even if the worst were to happen, is going to make dealing with chemo that much easier.

                We also got the opportunity to talk to one of the doctors at the fertility clinic and get his opinion on chemo options. There are two treatment regimens for Hodgkin’s that work equally well to treat the cancer. It was nice to get his opinion, from a fertility standpoint, about which course might be less harmful.

                That evening we got to spend a few hours with our family members for the first time since my diagnosis. I was overwhelmed by the love and support we felt from each of them. I could tell it helped them to see me, realize that I was still myself, and that I wasn't falling apart. It was also nice for me to get to talk to them, be hugged and realize how lucky I am to have so many loving people to support me along this journey. During our long drive home that night Chase and I couldn't help but be grateful for all the wonderful things we had been blessed with. The way that things were falling in to place medically, the support of our families both emotionally and financially. It was true that things could have been better, but at that moment, we were just glad that they weren't any worse.