“Everything looks pretty stable.” That’s Dr. Lerner’s assessment of my recent PET and CT scan results, as we meet together for an examination this afternoon. He delivers the news in his best physician deadpan style, one I’ve grown used to over the course of our many consultations.The doctor goes on to explain that the areas that were lighting up near my neck on my earlier PET scan are no longer lighting up on this recent one, and that there’s a small, new area lighting up on my lower back. “The problem with PET scans,” he quickly adds, “is that there are a lot of false positives – these areas are pretty small, so they could be nothing.”
They all look fine on the CT scan, he continues.
I ask about my residual abdominal mass that had measured 17% larger on my last CT scan – a measurement Dr. Lerner figured at the time could still be within the statistical margin of error (it seems the radiologists don’t start getting alarmed until such a mass shows 25% enlargement). It doesn’t look any bigger at all, on this most recent scan.Round about this time the phone rings. Dr. Lerner apologizes for the interruption, then takes the call. It’s evidently from another doctor who wants to confer about a patient. The receptionist brings in a thick file, and Dr. Lerner spends 3 or 4 minutes sharing details similar to my own case – something about the growth rate of certain tumors, I can’t follow it all. After hanging up, he comments, “It’s nice to be able to tell someone good news for a change.”
“I guess my test results are good news, right?”
“Yes, they are,” he replies, “for your situation.”
It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement – and it’s delivered in that same deadpan style, friendly but not overly cheerful – but I’ll take it. What I think the doctor means by that last qualifier – “for your situation” – is that, with an indolent lymphoma no one looks for cure, only stability.
Stable is good. Guess I’ll watch and wait some more.
