End of January 2012. Time for a new round of tomography and medical examinations after my 6th chemo session. The words I heard from the oncologist were exactly the same as with the previous tomography, “the tumor didn’t shrink, but it didn’t grow either, which is good”. “It didn’t shrink” were the words that kept bouncing in my head. I was becoming resigned to the idea of sharing my life with the tumor for the rest of my days, begging that my health could hold on until some new medical treatment was discovered for my cancer. But right away, my doctor said the words I had been dreaming of, “we will try to operate you despite the tumor didn’t shrink”.
More and more medical examinations, x-rays, P.E.T., blood tests, lung tests of all kinds and a new appointment with the surgeon. Confirmed, they were going to operate me. My physical condition and my age were on my side. I could face this complex surgery, consisting in removing my left pleura (tissue surrounding the lung). They would try to preserve my lung, but there was a chance that they had to remove it. They might also had to remove one rib to have a better access to my thorax cavity during the intervention and maybe, as well, remove part of my diaphragm, which would be replaced by a prosthesis.
The surgeon finished the consultation telling me, “Carla, the decision of going through surgery or not is yours”. My first reaction was of complete happiness because of the hope it gave me to have the tumor removed. Then fear and doubts overtook me. In the cost/benefit equation, was it justified taking the risk of losing my left lung, diaphragm and rib?
>> Chapter 09: The big bet
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