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| 2003 version of the relaunched Trixie, properly dressed for the usual October breast cancer awareness activities. |
Before I could read (or read well), my dad used to read Nancy Drew stories to me, it was our thing. We probably went through 30-40 of those books, and loved them all, no matter how far fetched they may have been. The very first chapter book I read myself? A Nancy Drew mystery, of course, one that transported me over the course of a summer from real life 1970's Iowa to fictionalized 1960's Hawaii through an action packed mystery that--no surprise here!--the Titian-haired Nancy solved with her usual blend of pluck and cleverness.
Later I devoured the Trixie Belden stories after finding a 1977 reissued copy of The Secret of the Mansion at a local bookstore. I loved those books (plus the Trixie Belden paper doll set I felt lucky to find in those pre-internet days) and was delighted to find the series reissued in 2003, just in time to begin reading them to my daughter. Unfortunately, I guess they didn't sell well enough for most modern girls, because the 2000's versions didn't go past book 14 or 15 out of the original 39. But still, my daughter and her best friend loved them and, between my old collection from the 80's, interlibrary loan, and her friend's Ebay treasures, they were able to enjoy the whole series as part of their very Trixie and Honey like friendship (typing that, it occurs to me that those names are really better suited to gun molls than amateur detectives, but obviously no one thought to check with me before naming them).
In between those 2 notable mystery series, I, of course, read all sorts of other mystery books aimed at young girls that featured teen "girl detectives" and the crazy villainous criminals they each had the bad luck to run into over and over (and over and over and over...) again.
It's probably not surprising, then, that somewhere inside my brain, there's still this urge to solve a mystery, even when faced with things I have zero actual knowledge about. Last week I had another bone scan and another CT scan. I'll get results next week. In between is a 7 day long wait that is practically tailor-made for attempted mystery solving.
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| The creator of the Trixie Belden mysteries also wrote some of the Cherry Ames nursing mysteries. In retrospect, I probably should have focused more on those. |
The bone scan, unlike the CT, has so many clues, if only I knew just what to look for! For that one, the radioactive tracer works its way into my bones and then a detector picks up each little gamma ray to form a dot on the study. The isotope gets absorbed more where there is damage or healing, such as that caused by cancer in the bones. The thing with the bone scan, though, is that, when turned on, the monitor in the scan room shows the dots in real time where I can view them! And after the usual views, the technologist sends the images to the radiologist (who is, one hopes, an actual professional and not an extremely talented amateur like Nancy Drew), and the radiologist may ask for additional views where things look interesting. How's that for clues falling right into my lap?
Last time I had a bone scan (June) the monitor was off, which was very unsatisfying. But the one before that, in January while we were still working to diagnose the bone mets, I could very clearly see the hot spots taking shape. When you hear about a PET or bone scan "lighting up like Christmas tree," that's what they mean--lots and lots of little rays clustering in different areas to form extra bright spots on the image. And in January, I watched my hips, a rib, and a spot on my skull, all shine brightly, well before the rest of my bones had even taken shape. What I didn't see clearly at the time were the spots on my femur and neck bone, but I guess that's why they let actual radiologists have a look and don't rely on me.
But this time? I didn't notice all the hot areas glowing more than the rest of my bones. My entire spine and the base of my skull looked pretty darn bright, which was scary until I googled and saw that that's how they look on many of normal scans, and maybe still something on my ribs? Not sure what that glow was. But what I don't know, unfortunately, is whether this lack of glow is a sign of good news, or just a matter of me not knowing a darn thing about reading diagnostic imaging? Is it a sign that the cancer is, for now, slowing down? Or is it like the spots I didn't notice in January, just a sign that there are spots I still didn't notice while lying on a scanner bed looking at a screen across the room out of the corner of my eye (yes, I know Nancy would have been able to make that work, but she could fill in for professional ballerinas and was a certified scuba diver, so there are actually a lot of things she and I don't have in common)?
I do realize I'm not going to be able to diagnose myself, plus there's a reason why the law dictates resolution for radiologist's monitors and it's the same reason why real radiologists have years more training than the zero I have, plus real radiologists will presumably also look at images from the CT scan instead of just relying on behavioral cues.
I know that, in reality, I don't really know anything at all. Well, anything except this: when I left the bone scan room in January, I knew I was in trouble. I knew before my oncologist called me that what I had glimpsed wasn't good. But now, even though I understand that the news could still be bad, despite knowing that at stage IV, good news is never a permanent state, right now, I still have reason to hope that the Faslodex, Xgeva, and Lupron are still doing what we hoped they would and I have hope that we will not have burned through those options just yet.
Unfortunately, just like the tension-filled cliff hanger chapter endings in all the good "girl detective" books, I'm going to have to leave you (and me, too) hanging until I find out results next week. When your dealing with amateur "girl detectives," isn't that always the way?
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*My High School guidance counselor, upon hearing that I planned to study physics in college, replied, "Oh, you want to be a lady physicist?" That irritated me because what I really planned on doing was being a physicist. Being a lady was unrelated. In light of that irritation, I probably need to state clearly that I know full well Trixie and Honey would have just called themselves "detectives." Although, Nancy, doubtless, was well above such quibbles herself.
