Pardon the title of this post but in my heart I will always be a sci-fi geek. Last week, I had a repeat CT scan to assess the progress of my chemotherapy on my disease process. Needless to say, I was extremely nervous about what the study would or wouldn’t show. Being a physician, I would probably have a reasonable interpretation of what the scan showed but I realized that a) there would be nothing to do with this information until I saw my doctors and b) it probably would not change the plan. One of my best friends was getting married days later and so I decided I would not look at the result and attempt to be as mentally and emotionally present for my guy’s nuptials.

And so I went to MSK this past Tuesday with the plan of undergoing round #6 of chemotherapy and meeting my care team to discuss the scan and the next steps. Mentally preparing for the toll of chemotherapy on your body is a skillset unto itself; it is both the devil you know and the angel of healing that may be helping you but not particularly interested in telling you as such.

I would like to mention that upon arriving there I had the fortune of meeting my new friend, Mariely, who is going through a similar process. It was empowering to see how strong and healthy she was in mind and body. We shared our war stories with another and I continue to feel lucky to know her.

Upon meeting my liver surgeon’s Physician Assistant, I was informed that my CT scan looked great! The primary tumor in my colon and one of my liver lesions was unappreciable. The enlarged iliac lymph node and my other liver lesion were significantly decreased in size. My colorectal surgeon performed an impromptu flexible sigmoidoscopy during our appointment and could not visualize my tumor! In case you are wondering, awake scoping continues to not be enjoyable. What was enjoyable was his shaking my hand and saying, “congratulations.”

I then met my wonderful oncologist who told me that given my robust response to the chemotherapy, we could forgo the last cycle and proceed with surgery. I never thought I would be so happy to say goodbye to the bits and bobs that are my digestive organs.

In summary, I will be having surgery next week (!), during which I will have part of my colon removed and reconnected, 25% of my liver removed (which will regenerate in ~ 3 months), bid adieu to my gallbladder, and have a new friend (hepatic artery infusion pump) implanted. As I already knew, I will have about 6 months of chemotherapy postoperatively to prevent these jerks from coming back. But more on that at a later time.

Indeed, this process has given me a whole new perspective on what is favorable and what is not. June 2, 2023 was the worst day of my life. September 5, 2023 was the best day since then. I know there will still be bad days ahead, but I also know that there will be ones even better than 9/5.

As always, thanks to all of my people for the continued support. The Emperor of All Maladies continues to irritate me but a little bit less now.

~ Sachin