A Clinical Study and a Collapsed Lung

Twenty-one days ago I participated in a clinical study. At one point I thought a clinical study and/or trial meant you are a guinea pig and even though you were seriously or terminally ill you got the placebo (sugar pill) or the trial drug that may or may not work. That's not the case. There are many different types and stages of clinical trials.

To learn more about clinical studies, CLICK HERE.

The study I took part in was to improve blood biopsies. There was no medication to take or multiple trips to the doctor to be examined or monitored. I simply had to agree to submit some vials of blood.

Twenty-one days ago I remembered what it was like to have to go through a surgical biopsy. For me, that was traumatic (my first surgery) and painful with a three week recovery. I submitted a few vials of blood to improve a non-invasive procedure to diagnose lung cancer. I was all for that.

If you thought I was on board twenty-one days ago, I am now the head engineer on that train that can't go fast enough. This week I was scheduled for an outpatient lung biopsy procedure. In and out, they send the tissue to pathology for diagnosis and we know what we are dealing with. It's a common procedure, but there are certain risks that are discussed before you start. One of those risks, ever so slight, is a collapsed lung. For the biopsy procedure they are putting a needle into your lung to capture tissue. In a sense, they are puncturing your lung. In most cases, after the procedure, the lung closes on its own and heals up at the puncture site. Not in my case. My lung collapsed.

Lisa at University of Colorado Hospital with DC, her #hopebot

I was admitted into the hospital and had to have a chest tube put in place to help "re-inflate" my lung. Although, not as traumatic as my first surgery, it was my first overnight hospital stay, EVER! 

I can't wait for the day when a lung cancer biopsy will be a simple office visit and a blood draw only.

Please note: these are descriptions of my medical experiences, how I understand them, in my laymen's terms. The procedures mentioned and defined may not be 100% medically accurate/correct or my doctors words. Thank you.

One Year Ago Today...August 21, 2015

One Year ago today I had my first surgical procedure. My PET scan showed multiple, multiple, tiny, star like nodules throughout both of my lungs. This was discussed at my cancer center's tumor board. A tumor board is a panel of oncologists, thoracic surgeons, radiology oncologists and others involved in diagnosing and treating cancer. My tumor board could not come to an agreement about my scan. It was inconclusive. The star like nodules could either be an infection, I had already tested negative for tuberculosis, or it could be cancer that had spread from the main lung tumor in my upper right lobe.

Until this point, the my biggest medical procedure was my bronchoscopy. I was scared. I've never been under anesthesia before. It was very early in the morning. My boyfriend, Jeremy, my mother and I were driving to the hospital. I had my usual satellite radio station playing, 50's on 5. We're pulling into the hospital. I'm thinking all the scary, anxious, thoughts any normal person that has never had surgery would have. And this song comes on while we are parking the car.

The first thing that comes to my mind is, of all the fabulous fifties songs, THIS will be my last song I ever hear if I don't make it out of surgery!!!???!!!!

Don't worry. I pulled through. 

Just as before, the staff were more than considerate when I voiced my fears of medical procedures while they were wheeling me into the surgery room. One man told me not to worry and to think of it as a day at the spa. I must have been the first to reply with, "I didn't pick out my nail polish color yet." I made myself laugh. He was not amused. 

My next memory is waking up in the recovery room. Of course, my first surgery experience wouldn't be typical. I got used to that recovery room. I was there the entire day. I was supposed to be moved to a hospital room. But there were no rooms at the inn that day.

It felt like it was almost immediately after coming out of the anesthesia that I was told that the stars were cancer. I remember speaking with my mom and Jeremy over the phone because I was still in a recovery area they were not allowed in.  They moved me off to a corner and as out of the way as possible. But at least at that point Jeremy and my mom were able to come back to see me.

After several, long, hours and being moved one more time, I was released to go home to my three week recovery period.