Cancer Update: Looking for Success in a World of Panic (Patreon)

The update is also at my GoFundMe.

CW: Discussions of claustrophobia, child abuse, crueltyhttps://www.gofundme.com/f/help-owen-kc-stephens-fight-cancer

I got hauled off to get an MRI, today.

(#Owencat is my blatant attempt to add more cute cat illlos to my social media posts)

Objectively, this is a good thing. I am now expected to have healed enough that we have a chance of seeing if Ylva the Atomic Valkyrie destroyed the tumor inside me, or not. We expect to get one of four answers, each equally likely.

1. We don't think it's gone but we're not sure, we'll need to gather more info.

2. We do think it's gone but we're not sure, we'll need to gather more info.

3. It's definitely gone, we need to start planning to monitor me for the rest of my life.

4. It's definitely not gone, we need to very quickly develop a plan to deal with it and our starting point is we have no idea because radiation was our last, best hope.

There's also a small change of an unexpected answer, like 'we have no idea if it's gone or not because there is way too much scar tissue,' or 'it's definitely not gone but something really weird has happened and now we think we can remove it surgically,' or 'it's definitely gone but a new tumor popped up right next to it.' But all of those combined are much, much less likely than one of the 4 expected answers.

No matter what answer we get, I have another MRI in 2 weeks. They needed to scan with contrast dye too big an area to get in one session, and won't give me two doses of contrast in a single day. The second scan is happening regardless of the answers we get from the first one, because it's looking at a different part of me to make absolutely sure the cancer has no spread.

Today's MRI was hard. While I do not normally think of myself as claustrophobic, it turns out I am under the right circumstances. Due to my size, when I get stuffed into an MRI machine, my gut and chest are pressed against the sides (and they have to add towels to make sure I don't get burned), and my arms have to be put above my head (also with towels). This makes it difficult to breath, impossible to move, and puts pressure on my torso from all directions, for a series of scans ranging from 15 to 25 minutes. It feels like I am buried alive.

This is problematic for me, because as a child some other kids actually tried to bury me alive, after a cute girl lured me out to the woods and they beat me up first. This is one of the causes of my cPTSD, and one that has a trauma response I never ran into until my first time in an MRI.

Sitting in a tight, closed, dark space doesn't bother me at all. Laying down in a space so tight there's literally no ability to move while having to struggle to breathe bothers me. A lot. Like, as in panic, start screaming, use the panic button, I gotta-get-out-of-here worse.

And every time I get an MRI, it's worse than the time before. It's like each time I go back into the tight hard-to-breathe tube, my subconscious s afraid this means I'll be doing this forever.

Now, I do not blame the techs, they do their absolute best to make me comfortable, and they are champs. I don't blame the MRI machine (which I have named Frank), it's just doing its job, and its job has helped me stay alive so far. And I do not blame my doctors, who have begun giving me stronger and stronger 1-shot tranquillizers to help me stay calm.

And the level they have me at now at least I could get through the whole session (the previous session had to be broke into 3 tries my panic was so bad). And then when my wife got me home she poured me into bed, and I lay there unmoving for 9 hours. Even now, my brain is spongy and weak.

And the next MRI? Well, it'll be much, much worse.

Because they have to scan higher on my body, and that means they are sucking me a foot deeper into Frank. We did a test run today. Breathing is tricky, but possible. But there's no light, no moving air, and the sound (Frank sounds like a mix between war of the Worlds tripod and Blue Man Group rejects, all turned up to 11) is much louder. Just thinking about it has my hands trembling. Sometime this week, I'll try to figure out what I am going to do about it.

But it is not this day.

So, still on tenterhooks waiting to see if radiation killed the little renegade hateflesh blob inside me. Still recovering from being tranked. Still fighting panic about an event that doesn't happen for 2 weeks.

And now I gotta figure out how to pay for it all. :P

All your help is huge, and I appreciate it very, very much. We're more than halfway to my goal, which should cover the costs of these tests and the 16 months I've been fighting cancer. I would not still be here without all of your amazing support.

SUPPORT

Sadly, my cancer debts continue to pile up. If you want to offer extra support, here are two easy ways to do so. And if you are willing, please consider sharing these links on your social media. It's hard to spread word about my fight with cancer, and people can;t choose to help unless they know there's an need.

GoFundMe -Every bit helps.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-owen-kc-stephens-fight-cancer

My Ko-Fi goes directly to me, if you prefer that.

https://ko-fi.com/owenkcstephens

"Still Not Done With PF1" Bundle as a ton of my 1st edition Pathfinder 3pp products, all lumped together for less than $30.

https://www.drivethrurpg.com/en/product/483217/Still-Not-Done-With-PF1-BUNDLE

Charity Product — Like A Boss – A Book of Boss Encounters

https://preview.drivethrurpg.com/en/product/433500/like-a-boss-a-book-of-boss-encounters

Charity Product — The Traveler’s Guide to the Darklands

https://preview.drivethrurpg.com/en/product/455409/the-traveler-s-guide-to-the-darklands

Charity Product — Publisher’s Choice Stock Art: Owen KC Stephens

https://preview.drivethrurpg.com/en/product/473298/publisher-s-choice-stock-art-owen-kc-stephens