Chemo #2

My son allowed me to borrow his White Elephant gift from the night before my my second dose of this chemo.  

I found it fitting--a great shoutout to so many of you, "THANK YOU FOR BEING A FRIEND!"  If you're too young to get the reference, it's "Golden Girls."  This one for me is going to be for my Rose Gold Girls: the Pink Cancer Warriors." I love you and the support you offer in countless ways. as I travel down this road and back again.  

I feel that friendship, hair or no hair!  Thank you for being my pals and confidants.  

We are still kicking cancer to the curb.  BTHOC!!

I am trying this time to follow the frug plan, with added steps to avoid the terrible constipation from the first time.  Plus, we did some ice treatment on my hands, which is so-far helping to prevent nueropohty.  After the ice and 2 warm blankets, I was out for the count!  The last treatment of 2019.  What a year!

Hair No More

After a few days of my hair coming out in clumps, and then the follicles and scalp in constant pain, (like leaving a bun/braid/ponytail in too long and then brushing it out the opposite way), it was time to shave this head-----AGAIN!

A last minute invite was sent out for any local support who might want too be witnesses to the change, and the new 'do started at 8:45.

A friend of a friend (Lynn) was available at such short notice, which I was grateful for!

I was so grateful for local warriors also available for this impromptu party.

Off it came.....complete with a background story: 

Gone now!  

I'm thankful, so I've been told, that I have a good head for baldness.  This has come in handy for FOUR TIMES NOW!!!!  

Let Me Be Clear

The boys came to Dr. C's for a little field trip.  They were not that amused.  

It was nice for my clinic to finally meet these crazies that I talk about all the time!  

We discussed side effects from the first treatment, found out that I am scheduled to have SIX of these doses, with midway scans after the first THREE.  

Also, there was a bit of confusion about the clear scans I reported in a blog post about my BRAIN.  I have been monitoring brain activity, independent of other body parts for years now.  After my gamma knife radiation, earlier this year, that schedule has been every three months.  In order to take advantage of meeting the out-of-pocket insurance costs for 2019, we squeezed one more brain scan in for the year.  

As there has been some rough news from the results of my regular full-body scans, I thought it would be nice to bring up something to praise by sharing that my BRAIN SCAN was clear--something good to end the year on.  No, my whole body is not clear---yet, but it's good to look for silver linings whenever I can.  

I hope that clears that up.  Sorry for not clarifying earlier!!!

Brain MRI + RESULTS!

Everything was lined up for a smooth experience downtown this week.  

My new port was accessed for the contrast.  

Easy-peasy.

Returned to Dr. Wardak's office for results today:  SCANS ARE CLEAR!!!

No worries into 2020!

A Fall

Do you remember in Greek Mythology, Icarus, who ignored the advice of his father and flew too close to the sun?  Icarus thought he knew better and that the solar rays would cause him no harm.   When cautioned to use his wings only to stay in the safe zone between sun and sea, Icarus flew higher.  Soon, it was too late.  The wax in his feathered wings couldn't hold up forever.  It melted under the high heat, and Icarus fell down and drowned in the sea.  

Like Icarus himself, I too, tempted fate and lost.  I decided to wear these little beauties to Christmas church service:   

It was going so well. I didn't have to do a lot of walking.  Just get to a pew and listen to some beautiful, holiday hymns.  It was going to be fine.  Getting from the car into the house was the last hurdle.  That big, beautiful heel got caught in a crevice in the garage floor, and I fell--gracefully--to the ground.

Thankfully, no broken bones....only bruises and scrapes.  After an icepack and a few days, I'm back to kicking cancer down.

Days After Chemotherapy

Day One:  More Chemo

Whenever I had nightmares as a child, my mom taught me to think about rainbows and unicorns and other lovely things.  Those happy, joyful images seemed to drown out the bad ones, and my mind was ready for sleep again.

I believe this bad dream cure has transferred over to a life skill: Plan for the worst and hope for the best.  In this current nightmare of cancer treatment--again--the plan seems to be working!  I've had this cocktail before, but I was younger and healthier and my body had not been torn inside out with surgeries and lasers and reactions.  But, it was the same thing, and I could handle it, even with a treatment every Tuesday + a return for the hated shot on Wednesday + labs on Friday.

Now that I'm older with more scars, I thought this might be more difficult. I imagined staying in bed for days, dealing with sour stomach and bowels, never too far from the toilet.  That was the plan, which did not include a mind-calming unicorn, pooping Skittles and rainbows.

So, I prepared for the worse.  Prior to chemo, I had meds on board.  I took some pain and anxiety pills, along with anti-vomit and anti-diarrhea + a small women's laxative, to balance all of what could plug me up, even if chemo did the opposite.

I said a prayer and felt the healing and love from prayers from all over, decided to go against my usual style of a colored wig and fancy shoes, and went for comfort in sweats.  (It's been cold here!). But, I did have a smile on my face and hope that this time would be fine.

I had more good, old friend, Benadryl Cocktail, which put me right to sleep---a DEEP one--which I was surprised about, since there was a time I was pretty numb to her ways.  That sleep was a good one, and it might have even contained a rainbow or two!





Day Two: A Day At Home

I didn't plan many things this day because things often take a person too far from a toilet.
However, by following the medicinal plans from my doctors, plus a few personal over-the-counter additions to tweak the process, I still felt like me!   There was no nausea, no sneak-attack vomiting, no diarrhea.  I even got laundry caught up and some online Christmas shopping done.  It was a good day.



Day Three: Palliative Care

When this appointment was made, I had NO IDEA what this was, to be honest.  I've never had such an official-sounding appointment plan, and even if I had been offered it, I probably would have not have time for it with toddlers and a kindergartener running around.  But, day three was another great day, so I went.  And, I even got into some jeans and a festive hat.

My Frisco friend who has driven me to most of my appointments has experience with this office and many of the people there.  It's not my story to tell, but she had another good friend who worked with this group of doctors and nurses and passed away from brain cancer.
As I met people who were not strangers to my friend, it felt easier for me to be myself and not have strangers there, either.
As I was interviewed about my journey, my current status-physical, mental, emotional, etc., as well as was services I was would need--therapy, help with legacy items, pain management, hospice care, funeral planning.....several sets of eyes and slight smiles looked back.  I have all those things in the works already, and they could not believe it.
And, I found in that office, a tender mercy that helps me to know there is still work for me to do.  I was asked to work with them on helping other mothers of young children who have this disease be able to find a place of hope and peace and joy, to help their children understand, to leave a legacy of memories, and to use that positivity to soak in every moment.  Self-care and personal emotional health is a start.  If you don't find a way to take care of your own mind and body, it becomes difficult to bless your own family.  And, I want to pass things that I have learned to others.

It struck me a few years ago when someone from one of my Breast Cancer Support Groups mentioned that my story "wasn't inspirational enough" because I didn't stay cancer-free.  That really stung.  Yes, it's a downer that I don't have that "perfect" story of fighting that miraculous battle and never having the enemy knock down my door again.  But, let's be real, y'all.  If it wasn't cancer again, there would be another enemy.  Loss of loved ones, difficulties with children's health or disabilities, job loss, marital issues, natural disasters, car accidents, fires, loss of freedom, war, poverty, theft, unexpected tragedies, The list goes on and on.  Because I can be an example for how to fight my cancer--through hope and faith and a study of Christ and prayers to God on my behalf, I can be here--again and again--to teach others to think of their own rainbows and unicorns to drown out the enemy of discouragement and darkness.  And, that, my friends IS INSPIRATIONAL.





(Stick kickin' it to the curb....even if it never goes away.  I'll be there to drown out those nightmares from the other side!)

4th FIRST CHEMO + #62 Herceptin

After a few bad weeks, it was time for a change.  My fight plan was ordered and recorded and ready to rock.  Now, I needed to get my heart and my head in the right place for another heavy battle.  I needed to let some light in and brighten up my spirit.

Monday was unexpectedly amazing, as the maids from "Cleaning for a Reason" came by for my 2nd session.  That left me free for more than I thought I would be able to accomplish prior.  After my productive meeting with Dr. Coolio, I had the rest of the week to clean, plan dinner meals, get caught up on laundry, and get the house all designed for CHRISTMAS!!!  My burdens had been made light!

A friend came over to help set up the trees and set the groundwork for our special ornaments.  (We give each boy an ornament every year, which matches each kids' theme AND is meaningful to an activity or trip we experienced as a family that year.  It's fun, but Kyle has enough-already-to have a tree of his own soon.  (My mom AND Grama still continue this tradition for the boys and me, as well.) The major rays of light from these beautiful trees, brightened my outlook (and allowed me to cross something BIG off the to-do list!)

After that, I had a few days with no extra appointments, just the regularly-scheduled programs, EXCEPT, Stephen's work schedule was CRAZY!!!!!!!!  He worked on call Sunday.  Then, M-F all day/everyday until dark or later!  THEN, he had a colonoscopy on Saturday!!!!!We saw each other for 8 hours or so ALL WEEK.  It was insane, and he was struggling.  I was able to reach out to his brothers for advice, and they ran with a plan.  Since Stephen had been disappointed that he wasn't able to get the Christmas lights out ALL WEEK, as previously planned, it only added to the misery of the job situation.  I phoned a friend ,and another community miracle occurred: The lights were hung from a community of friends and God's servants, who pulled together for pure love.  More light came to our lives!

That week, I also had some time to ponder and pray and to try to discover what my prayers should be.   Another miracle, of course, was my first choice for which to ask.  However, have the days of miracles passed for me?  is my candle too short for more? Would it be selfish to keep being brought back from near-death disease?  My focus was on my family.  I did not want to leave Stephen without his partner and love of almost 20 years.  Would each of my boys suffer and be able to overcome, or would they begin to drown and fall into despair and away from the good.  I asked and plead for how to pray this time.

Then, I was reminded by my Dad of some verses he read to me when he was here:

A group of verses from John

John 14: 13-14
And whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, that will I do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If ye shall ask any thing in my name, I will do it.


John 15: 7
If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.

Those two helped me understand that when I ask in pure faith for something that is an unselfish and righteous desire, GOD WILL DO IT.  Maybe, it's not always EXACTLY the outcome we looked for at the exact moment, but we will not be forsaken, those who abide in the Lord.

God truly answers the prayers of those trying to believe in Him and follow him.  To put a cherry on top:

Matthew 6:8
...for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him.


Our Father in Heaven wants to bless us with all He has.  He wants us to have hope and joy and peace.  He wants us to escape heartache and pain with as few scars as possible.  However, he knows we must experience and endure some of those heartbreaking and painful experiences in order to understand how to help others, how we can become stronger, and to humble ourselves to realize that no man is an overcomer on his own.


 (A woman could come really close, though, right????)

I was reminded that having that light surrounding you and in you---all these sources of light brought to us by the service of others, led me to remember the shining light of Christ, his peace and love and mercy and goodness and hope and faith.  

Dr. Cole + A Plan

December started off less than joyfully.

While sitting in church, I glanced down to the phone peeking out through my open purse.  I noticed the highly awaited notification: YOU HAVE A NEW TEST RESULT.
I told myself that now wasn't the best time to get bad news, but couldn't help but open the app and read about my near future.  My least favorite parts were "grown worse since previous scan on 11/1/2019" and talk about possible LUNG metastasis.  I showed it to my in house medical man, and he agreed that it wasn't good --more spots showing up, which are already worse than the scan that happened only a few weeks prior.

For some reason, this all hit me right then.  It felt as if I knew what could always happen was now ready to take me.  I cried and snotted through my medical mask, and then another.   I went. home and asked my Dad and Stephen's Dad to bless me with healing and comfort.  (Everyone was in town because my youngest son had been baptized the previous day.) I was grateful for loved ones in town, but it was hard to be feeling so warn down and wanting to wallow in misery.

All I wanted to do was sleep and cry that day, so I had a long conversation with God.  It went something like this:

Why is this happening again?  Do we not have enough on our plates?  I'm getting tired; I don't know how long I can keep going.  Is this one going to be THE one, the ending? I want too be here for my family.  Surely, I haven't done all I can do on the earth yet?

No real answers came, except being able to feel love and joy through my family, still in Texas---but, not for long.  Soak it in!  I tried to follow that advice for all the time that multiple branches from the same family tree stopped to hang out in our home.  It was both anxiety adding and positive group therapy to prepare for the battle in front of me.    

 There are still unanswered questions like:

What's the plan?
Are you doing chemo?
How bad is it?
What are the side effects?
How many doses will you take?
Where will you go?

Questions from family, friends, church family, social media went on and on, BUT I still did not have all the answers.    In the last few weeks since my initial scan results came back, it's felt like I was in limbo or "The Waiting Place," as Dr. Seuss called it in one of his famous books.  The waiting place can be difficult, especially for an aggressive cancer, more specifically-MY CANCER-because the PET scan even revealed that cancer has most likely grown inside my body in three weeks! (Dr. Fleener called to give me a second opinion!  She gave me some good advice and points to ponder.  Mostly, she wanted to emphasize that I am not to the point in treatment when I have to resort to a trial.  It's not my season to make my way downtown all the time and hopes that I consider a drug that she had talked about using a few years ago for me.  (It was encouraging to hear her chive again and to know that she took time out of her daily routine, just to talk to me.)

I had much to ponder, but not many answers to help make any sort of plan.  I was in pain everyday.  I was tired EXHAUSTED, and slept quite a bit.  I felt so horrible on Sunday that I didn't seem to have the energy to get out of bed.  I was down and almost out with allergies that became a cold with a cough, but NyQuil knocked out that sucker.  I was feeling sorry for myself and my family and sad and frustrated and upset and full of questions and concerned about what happens to my people when/if I leave them soon.  All this thinking was destructive, so I vowed to try to do at least one big thing around the house everyday.  In addition, I added a new catch phrase: "If you CAN now, do it NOW."  This is for small things like: take that read magazine from the bathroom to the recycle bin; play a game with my kids; call or text someone who has been on your mind.  Once I decided to start doing the little things now (overcoming my procrastination), daily chores got easier.  I had already done the tidying up, so the real deal was lessened.

I was feeling better.

FINALLY, my follow-up appointment rolled around.  It was good to see Dr. Coolio.  

She started by going over a bit of the scan, after asking if I'd read through it.  Then, some big changes were discussed from the biopsy: My cancer is no long estrogen driven.  No such luck with Her2.  

I'm now Stage IV breast cancer, ER- PR- HER2+.   This means I can stop taking Letrozole or any drug meant to block that hormone.  

We talked a bit about how unfortunate it was that BCBS denied Perjeta, which is a sister drug to Herceptin, and five months later, it's back.  

We discussed what I wanted to do.  When I talked about wanting something that would wipe the slate clean and then maybe maintain that.  Dr. C asked which major chemo drugs I have taken, complete with my reactions to them.  She also checked with the blood biopsy (still not done, but has some results).  Because of something in my blood she noticed, that opens up another treatment for the future: a pill that has many of the same side effects, but it's just a pill.  Plus, there might be trials we could look for.  Then it was time to discuss:

I wanted the blank slate.  

She loves trials, but agreed with me.  

Without further adieu, HERE is THE PLAN!

1. Paclitaxel + carboplatin = Carbotaxil (one dose of 300ml every three weeks, for 6 doses.)

We will scan it partway to make sure the tumors are shrinking.

(If insurance doesn't cover this, there is another chemo to try. )

Plan B will be Kadcyla (Dr. Cole has less experience with this drug, but this is the one Dr. F suggested.  

Plan C: The Piqray pill that could fight now because of one of my blood mutations. (Very effective, but very toxic.)

Plan D: If I still want to fight, after all those options not working, THEN we would look for a trial.  

This meeting and making a pan was actually the beginning of an attitude adjustment for the better.  

I HAVE A PLAN!  

Let's go BTHO cancer, and kick it to the curb! (In sparkly shoes, of course!)

   

She Needed Surgery

I had too great of an induced nap this afternoon; I'm writing this at 2:17 AM.

I was able to erase some crazy anxiety and frustrations about my treatments which I've dealt with ever since arriving in DFW.  I had surgery today to remove my despised and degraded old mediport and replace it with a sparkling new, accepted POWER PORT.  I am now in the club. [Fingers crossed!]

The whole thing went pretty well today. It started off with a good omen: my mom was able to drive me and give support, prayer, and love.  What a blessing.

We did have so wait later than my scheduled time, but that ensured that no one would call "cancelectomy," since I technically ate breakfast and took a pill in the originally scheduled eight-hour window.  It was nice to finally move out of the waiting room, where so many people were eating, lunch AND snacks.

I did have some IV trouble, though.  Since this procedure was to remove my port, using that was, obviously,  not an option in this case.  My assigned nurse, Kim, was mostly sure she'd found a few good veins in me, but after hearing my concerns, she referred me to the "best poker in the place."  I cannot recall her name, as she was twice unsuccessful on my body.  In came Rochelle.  She took her time and got the job done.  I was grateful for the lidocaine, which I question the absence of in so many of my prior IV failed attempts.  Successful stick, CHECK.

Next, my surgeon, Dr. Birdwell, came in to go over the procedure.  We had discussed possibly replacing my port and changing positions from right to left for the new one.  I am fine with each, and he was satisfied with just waiting until investigating possible scar tissue, which might make it difficult to place a new port in the same spot.
Mom was really impressed with his persona.  I wasn't surprised.  After all, he IS an Aggie.  [For those of you who have been here since 2013, my plastic surgeon from Houston, Dr. Boutros is an Aggie.  Two Dr. B's, both Former Students of my school.  Can't got wrong with that.  [There was also a student who I allowed to watch in on my surgery.  She is a Red Raider.  I'll allow it.]

Then came the Family Business.  My anesthesiologist came in to question me.  He promised to let me have a great nap and glossed over my breakfast, since my husband is a CRNA.  He also hooked me up with a Scope Patch, for my nausea.  Versed's on board.  Ready to go!

Suddenly, people were waking me up and asking me to drink cranberry juice.  I wasn't quite ready to give up that deep sleep and warm blankets, but all good things must come to an end.  Dr. Birdwell came to visit Mom in the waiting room, praising me as "healthy."  [HA, except for that cancer and borderline obesity!] He was able to add a new Power Port to my right side, eliminating the need for a different scar.

We made it home quicker than expected, and I recovered fairly well from the whole thing, after some food, of course!  The fresh scar does not seem to be painful today, but the tube placement in my neck is giving me problems.  It feels like a pulled muscle--hard to turn my head from side-to side without discomfort.  Also the Tylenol-3's don't cut it.  Stephen actually questioned what I was thinking, even picking those up from the pharmacy!  And, just when I told my pain doc that I didn't need such a high amount of Hydrocodones!

I'm grateful this is done.  I'm grateful I feel better today.  My voice seems to be returning to normal after what seemed to be a combo of allergies, sore throat, cough, and sneezing.  Perhaps I can cut out much of the chastisement I have received about my old port, and we can all just start getting along! We're going to need to, as we go into another battle in this war.  

 



 

PET Scan Initial Results

I was sitting in a pew at church, head bowed, not feeling well.  Leaving early definitely crossed my mind, as a massive headache began to creep in.  It also seemed as if my youngest son had passed me his cough, scratchy voice, and runny nose, or maybe it was related to changes in weather, thanks to my itchy eyes and multiple sneezes.  I remembered my purse supply of medical masks and put one on, to prevent me sharing possible germs to any others.

Understanding only a few of the symptoms of my newest diagnosis, I did have to chuckle a bit.  My bladder doesn't seem to be as tough as it once was and neither does my intestinal system.  I have felt a lot more blotted and gassy lately, even after giving up Dr. Pepper!  With these *fun* symptoms, perhaps I will be destined to become the 40-year-old, blue-headed lady who farts in church!

Then, I glanced a notification on my phone from MyChart, my medical app, which said "You have a new test result."  I thought about not checking until going home, but couldn't wait.

The news was not good or comforting.  I scanned through the document, and noting some changes from the original scans that caught this new cancer growth.  The PET showed additional growth since November 1st.  I don't want to post the entire exam findings, but this is the summary.  I couldn't hold back the tears, especially as I watched Stephen reading and his head-nod, which confirmed my impressions: it's bad.  

As I looked around at faces of loved ones, tears ran down my cheeks.  I soaked through my masks.  I didn't feel ready for another long and tuff fight.  I wanted to feel sad a frustrated that this was happening again.  I thought, for a moment, that the curse of recurrence in the odd-numbered years might have taken a break.  I was sad when I spied the eyes of my boys, who have mentioned how sad the news of this latest diagnosis has made them.  I had a hard time concentrating on the messages shared from the pulpit.  Even though I have a testimony that God knows me and loves me, watching over all, this news hit me hard.  Even though I still have hope and faith in Christ, I don't know if this is the time for the end of my mortality.  I worry for my husband and child and extended family.  I don't want them to have to suffer the loss of wife, mother, daughter, sister, or friend.  I have not been so emotional over cancer in years.  It was definitely time to go home and rest, looking forward with hope to my meeting with Dr. Cole and review the results and my options.

PET Scan

I finished the third test required before I meet back with Dr. C about my battle plans.

I REALLY miss my PET scan team from College Station.

Again, this place made me pee in a cup.  I must be a busy 40-year-old, since they could not use the results from FIVE DAYS PRIOR!  I am getting REAL busy and MUST prove that no immaculate conception occurred since my CT.  I did insist on the nurse giving me gloves so I wouldn't pee on my hand.  Progress?.

The reward came in another *delicious* vanilla shake.  I hadn't been able to eat or drink anything else for five hours, so at least it kept my mouth from being totally dry.

The whole place was running VERY behind, so I had to wait, and wait, and wait, and wait, AND wait!!!!!  FINALLY I was called back to a room, where I could wait some more, while watched tv.  My nurse came in to introduce himself and ask all the questions.  Then, he prepped me for an IV.  He missed.  He missed again.  He came in with a heating pad to try to get my veins to wake up.  Two more nurses tried, with no success.  They called to have a nurse come access my port.  Guess what?  She gave me the third degree about this port and complained that she hadn't brought the proper stuff with her, but she was FINALLY able to access it.  I FINALLY got the shot of "plutonium," so I could wait another 55 minutes to let it infiltrate my body.

FINALLY, the 12 minute scans were over, and it was almost time to go home.  All that needed to be done was to take the needle out of my port.  The original nurse who accessed it was with another patient, so a different nurse was called in.  She was even more inept than the others.  She basically ripped the plastic off the area, literally ripping my skin away.  Without asking any questions, she assumed I had a Power Port and tried to click the needle and pull it straight out, causing crazy pain and blood on MY FAVORITE WHITE T-SHIRT!!  "Do you take blood thinners?" she asked.  "You're bleeding everywhere!"  [Maybe if you knew what you were doing, that wouldn't have happened, and I DO NOT take blood thinners, Moron.]. When I told her I didn't have a Power Port, then came the standard excuses:  I didn't know it wasn't./What is it?/No one told me./I have never worked with anything else./I don't think I can take it out./All the other times, the needle just pops right out.............etc.  When she hurt me for the last time, I just told her to stop and leave it in.  [Stephen could just take it out later!]. She went into the hall, calling the other nurse for instructions, and FINALLY MANAGED TO DO HER JOB!!!!!!!!!!  I was not happy with the day......tired, hungry, bloody, bruised around all the needle points, tired, and hungry.

FINALLY, it was time to leave that place,



WAY LATER THAN WE SHOULD HAVE.  [Procedure delays, nurse incompetence, and waiting for port access/de-access.] All this led to RUSH HOUR TRAFFIC.

It was not the worst day of my life, but one of the worse in this cancer battle, for sure.  I'm hoping some things will change a bit when I have surgery next week for a new port.  

CT-Guided Biopsy

The second scan is now complete.

I have had plenty of CT scans in my cancer life, and I have had a biopsy that was much worse than I had expected at the very beginning of my breast cancer diagnosis, but I have never had a CT-guided biopsy.

I was not sure what to expect.

Sadly, I expected the worst.

However, the first tech was able to put in an IV on the first try, and with VERY little pain.  Next, a scan was performed, to check for the location in which to take the biopsies.  After the scan, a large, grid-like sticker was placed on my chest, and another scan was taken.  [The grid showed up in the scan.]. After validating the correct entry point, the tech drew with purple marker to show where to collect the tissue samples.

It was then time to officially begin.


I was promised a sedation in which I would not remember the procedure.  That promise what not kept, due to the nurse only giving me the minimum amount of versed and fentanyl. I kept telling them I had been doing this since 2013 and needed more.  They didn't listen, so instead of a quick nap and forgetting it all, I am able to explain the procedure here.

Hopefully, the results will help us understand the best treatment options for moving forward.

Count Your Blessings + Labs + Dr. Cole + Last Herceptin + Zometa

So amid the conflict, whether great or small, do not be discouraged; God is over all.   Count your many blessings; angels will attend. Help and comfort give you to your journey’s end.

Count your blessings; name them one by one.

Count your blessings; see what God hath done.

We are in the season of thanksgiving.  I have much for which to be grateful.  

After a particularly difficult Friday, I got back on the horse and headed down to have labs taken Monday morning. I had a smile on my face, being with people who know my face and my name and that my port is not something to complain about.  I also shared the story of my annoyance with having to pee on my hand in a cup in order to prove that my signature stating that I am not pregnant, complete with verifiable proof, was not valid enough for "hospital policy."  

She laughed along with me, but also made me feel validated.   And, when she noticed that the ordered tests on the blood she had just drawn (from that very port that had been declared unusable 3 days prior) included one for pregnancy, she instantly became one of my advocates by asking me if I actually wanted this test done.  When I told her to make a note that I would only allow this test to be performed if it was accompanied by a million dollar bet beforehand, in my favor, she laughed and added a "patient refusal" to the orders.  "When people are giving you a difficult time, know that you have other people in your corner," she promised me.  

Fueled by the love from my oncology home base, I had an incredible rest of the day, having the energy and ability to accomplish almost all of the 17 items on my to-do list. (Still haven't gotten around to making that banana bread!). It was a small victory and one that was truly needed after a rough weekend.  

Fast forward to Tuesday and my regularly scheduled appointment.  (I had to make the trip for just labs the day before because the pharmacy is currently in renovation mode.  That means that my clinic cannot mix drugs on the same day as infusions because they have to be mixed and delivered downtown, often with specific stats in mind.) Before I could even get into an infusion room, I met with my doctor.  

 I had a list of questions for Dr. Cole.  First, was:  "Do you have the results from my scans?"

"Yes.  And, they're not good." 

There came the sinking feeling I've experienced a handful of times before.  

Cancer is back.  

The good news is that my brain is still clear.  My chest is clear.  My bones are still stable.  The pain in my sternum and under my left breast did not even register in the scans as anything new, and are probably just areas that have been agitated by my sleeping positions or clothing choices.  

The new, concerning spots are in my abdomen and bowels.  The few I could truly make out on the images of the scans are 1) a spot just outside my liver in the peritoneal space, and 2) several suspicious lymph nodes.  For those of you who are actually trained to see these as sections of my body and not black screens colored over with a white paintbrush or erased in certain places, here are the photos from my phone from the computer screen in the doctor's office.  

I asked Dr. C how concerned she is.  is this terrible?  It is an easy treatment?  Is it my death sentence?  

As if often happens when I get this news.....those answers couldn't be given right away.  There are at least three things that must be done before she can make a plan.  

1. Receive results from a blood biopsy that she ordered to be taken before my infusion.  (This test will hopefully identify markers/receptors on this new outbreak of cancer.  There is a possibility that I may no longer be her2+, as several of her patients who were previously labeled that way now show up negative.  Perhaps, after so many treatments of Herceptin, the cancer got smart and mutated, making it useless to treat with Herceptin at all.  
2. Schedule a PET scan.  This will give more information as to the size and frequency of irregular areas, letting us know if the CT and bone scan missed anything.
3. Schedule a CT-directed biopsy, I'm assuming of the irregular lymph nodes.  

The results of these tests will give me treatment options.  

1. If I am still her2+, there is a trial for a new partner drug for Herceptin that looks quite promising.  (It seems that everyone I have told about this new diagnosis immediately cursed BCBS for denying the partner drug, Perjeta, which I had been taking up until this June.  I didn't even register that fact amongst all the talk and explanations from the scans, etc., but it was a hot topic among my warriors.  The first reaction, in fact, which led me to recall that my last scans, which were clear, were taken in July, after which I had four more doses of Herceptin without the sister drug before Friday's discoveries.  The good thing about this option is that I am familiar with the side effects of Herceptin and am assuming that the additional trial drug will pretty much follow suit. The bad thing about this trial is that is would all have to be done downtown, requiring someone to drive me for everything.  
2. The other options are more vague.  There are several more powerful chemotherapies that I have not used before.  We would consider those options after receiving more information from the tests.  The good thing about this is I could most likely continue my treatment at Dr. Cole's office.  The bad thing is I would be much more sick and lose my hair, yet again.  But, how many people can truly say that they have grown their FIFTH first ponytails?  

I complained about all the small fires that I always seemed to have to put out in this battle, tired of fighting all the things, all the time, with my last post.  However, after a Saturday Pity Party, I was reminded in church on Sunday that I needed to remember that I am not fighting alone.  The words from our opening hymn (the top of this post) filled me with comfort and hope, reminding me to be strong and be grateful for God and His loving care over my life.  This is not only my battle, but one in which I have an entire army of warriors--both earthly and heavenly angels--supporting my cause.  

Beyond that, and most importantly of all.....it is not I who has the strength on my own to fight, GOD IS OVER ALL and it is in His strength that I will be able to fight and face this new challenge.  (And, it's boot season, so.....time to get on boots and get to kicking cancer to the curb!)