Look Good, Feel Better

American Cancer Society, thank you. Hearst Cancer Resource Center, thank you.

Ok. I guess I feel better. But, It was sort of weird sitting there with other cancer patients. I haven't been in this situation much. Usually, I'm solo, except for Bridgett, my daughter, at my chemo sessions. I really haven't been around other women with cancer. This was a get together of myself and four others. Only one other woman had started losing her hair. I've been there, done that, have some growing back, in fact. The truth is, I am finally in touch with the facts. I had cancer. It was serious. And even though I'm done with chemotherapy, I know I need to realize there are such things as recurrences. But, I'm not living that way. I choose to live in the present, and right now I'm feeling pretty good. Still on the clinical trial experimental therapy, still on a short leash with my oncologist. Every 3 weeks I have therapy which is an antibody supposed to block the blood supply to the tumors. Confusing because I don't think I have any tumors anymore. But hey, I'm a work in progress. I can't possibly accept everything that's changed in my life in the last 6 months.

So, I'm feeling better, yes. Looking good, yes. Just for today, and that's all that counts, this exact moment.

Good News!

My CT scan showed nothing in my kidneys but iodine travelling through. Yes! That worry is going down the drain and into the sewer where it belongs. I've had enough worry to last me another lifetime. I'm grateful for the faith I have in my doctor, the wonderful people I have been meeting at the Hearst Cancer Resource Center. I am so lucky to have a place to go to that's free and I can get information, wigs, scarves, Tai Chi, Reiki, and support groups if I decide I want to go. So far I'm seeing a therapist (yes, I'm a California girl now) and really have a wonderful rapoir with her.

Even though I still am receiving the experimental drug every 3 weeks, the side effects are minimal and I can begin to get back to normal (whatever that is.) Still no concrete plans for France, but dreaming doesn't cost a thing and I'm still learning french with Rosetta Stone. It is a beautiful language and I'm enjoying the learning process. For sure I will go. Maybe not this soon, but for sure in the near future. Meanwhile, que serra serra!

Trials and Tribulations

Like Rosanna Danna used to say, "it's always somethin'." Gilda Radner suffered from ovarian cancer just like me, although she had so much trouble getting diagnosed, she was practically beyond help when it finally happened. Gilda's Place is in her honor and I would like to go to one of them eventually.
Right now I am waiting...my four phase CT scan of my kidneys took place on Friday and my appointment with the doc isn't until tomorrow to read the results. I have been trying to stay calm, not to worry (one of my Mom's favorite sayings) easy to say but hard to do. I go from "oh, its just the iodine going through that they see." to "I have tumors in my kidneys and I only have 5 months to live." Where do I get the 5 months from? Drama queen.
So, trying to stay in the moment, decided to blog it out. The next thing to think about is....
France! I am dreaming about a trip to Marseilles with my masseuse, Zabeth, who is going "home" in July and has invited me to come along. That sounds infinitely better that talking about a CT scan. Let's dream together! Au revoir!

Getting fit after chemo

Well, I finally feel like walking and exercising again. Even though I'm on a short leash with my doctor as I am still in the clinical trial, I still feel really well and want to get back into shape. I haven't gone back to the gym yet, but am trying to walk more and eat better. During chemo I ate whatever sounded good on the days I wasn't nauseated. Now I need to tweak my diet a little to include greens and proteins and put the mashed potatoes and gravy back on the back shelf. Hooray!
My hair is growing back and it's either blonde or white! I have about a quarter inch sticking straight up. It is enough to keep my head a little warmer at night, but still pretty scary looking so I usually wear a cap. Tommy has been helping me with transfer tatoos on the back of my neck below my caps. The nurses and staff at the doc's office never know what to expect from me. I keep them smiling and its good for all of us. I look forward to the summer months and my energy returning so I can be with my grandsons and Ella more. Carpe Diem!

Surreality

I found a new descriptive word. Is it because of the tenth anniversary of Amber's death on June 10th that I have this skewed take on life? Or could it be the next step I am about to take in the clinical trial I'm in for ovarian cancer? Or maybe it is the visit to the high school where I gave 3 scholarships in honor of Amber's life as a dancer and lover of education. Or was it walking on the campus with a scarf on my bald head as Amber did and got stares from her peers and a sneering comment, "nice bandana!" from a clueless girl passing by?
Clearly I have issues at this time of my life and probably shouldn't write when I feel this way, but I have to, because that's what I do to deal with it.

Last chemo is a wrap

I'm grateful to have finished the 6th cycle of chemotherapy today. I didn't have to miss one cycle, held my own with the big boys, carboplatin and taxol. I didn't do it alone. I had my patient daughter, Bridgett, with me for every single one. Even after her own pregnancy ended up in a c-section, she made it to my April 28th cycle, Ella Amberley only 1 week old, came along. Her amazing dedication and love for me and seeing to my every need, made this experience tolerable. And to be able to come home to my husband after these treatments, when I couldn't even think about food to sustain me, he would console me and run through the list of possibilities one more time until he came up with the perfect one.
Even though I will continue with the clinical trial, at least the worst is over, I hope.

I'm still a Mother

Everything I was BC (before cancer) is the same as it is now. Since I'm still doing chemotherapy, with one treatment left this month, technically I'm in a holding mode for diagnosis. The last CT scans showed nothing "suspicious" a cop-out way for radiologists to be safe when writing their reports. The way I see it, I either have it or I don't and I prefer to believe the latter. Just say that I'm not suspicious of the suspicious. The severity of side effects and the number of odd differences in my physical self can attest to the fact that the drugs have shaken up those crappy cells determined to eat away at my good cells. I'm confident I am receiving the immunotherapy (mystery clinical trial experimental drug, Avastin) and it is vacuuming up those deceased cancer boogers and I am blowing them out of my nose. Interesting theory, eh? I will have a news conference on my findings and opinions when I have the time to talk to my committee that lives in my brain and keeps me awake some nights until I scribble them down haphazardly on a bedside notepad in the dark.

Meanwhile, I will enjoy the next week and a half I have before I go in for my last treatment and that includes being honored for the chance to do the best job ever: being a Mother.