Yesterday we had our obligate meetings with medical oncology and radiation oncology.  I have to say that passing through that portal, you enter a completely different world, filled with grim statistics and unpleasant options.  The good news is that 1. my tumor was a low-grade glioma, which is expected to progress slowly, 2. I’m relatively young, at 35 y.o., 3. they’re going to give me an MRI quarterly for the first year, so if this God-damned thing re-grows, we’ll know it early enough to take effective action, 4. IF necessary, another surgery is still a possibility, and 5. there are good chemo and radiation options available.  As of right now, there are no plans to start either radiation or chemo, which is just fine by me… Dr. Chicoine, my neurosurgeon is as certain as he can be that he removed the whole damn thing, and there are two intra-operative MRIs supporting that opinion.  Hence the title of this post, which is a reference to a scene from Oceans 11.  The dialogue goes something like this:

Livingston – We have a problem.  You’ve been red-flagged. The moment you enter the casino, they’ll be watching.  Like hawks. Hawks with video cameras.
Ocean –  That’s a problem.

In my case, I have radiology, med/onc, rad/onc, and neurosurgery (all professionals at this sort of thing) watching my tumor like hawks.  Hawks with MRIs.

From which I take some comfort.

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