After my visit with the Doctor on Wednesday and reviewing my latest PET
scan, once again things have changed. My tumor marker numbers climbed
from 23 to 40. Affirming that “yes” cancer activity has increased within
me. The PET scan showed the bone cancer has spread to some new areas,
such as my rib under my right breast. More widespread through my sacrum
(lower back) and more intensity in the Lumbar 1 vertebrae (spine).
Thankfully my right breast itself no longer showed any uptake, as it had
appeared on my scan three months ago. Remember it has been the good
one. My left breast is where the cancer started. It still shows no signs
of cancer in it either. Just scarring. So the good I can take from all
this is there are still no vital organs effected. Praise Jesus! Three
years ago my lungs showed signs of cancer, but we got that out of there
and they seem to be doing great.
So what does all this entail where the change comes in? Some scary risks for one. Since the cancer is estrogen receptive, I have been on meds for almost three years to stop my ovaries from producing estrogen and another med to block estrogen from the cancer cells. It had worked wonders, but I had been told at some point the cancer cells would become resilient to the drugs and they would no longer be effective. I am grateful it lasted this long. Given one to two years to live and I will mark my 3 years on Valentines day next month. I consider myself pretty lucky. Three months ago we changed the drug I was taking to block the estrogen, because the cancer had started to spread. My new tests showed some improvement (as I mentioned in the right breast and also no colon activity this time), however since the bone cancer itself continued to spread, we have to switch it up again. That is the risky part. As of Wednesday I am no longer taking any cancer drugs at all for one month. The Zometa IV will continue every month for the bone cancer how ever. The Doctor attended a conference last week in which researchers presented a study that showed some positive results for women who were not post menopausal with breast cancer, yet we were chemically put into menopause by medication. The study showed good results by bringing our bodies out of the induced menopause, the influx of estrogen some how stunned the cancer cells and remission followed. They don’t have an explanation of how it or why it worked. So I am a guinea pig. Running out of options, so I will try anything.
The next change will be in one month as I start to take heavy doses of Xeloda (a pill form of chemo). It arrived at my front door by FedEx today. I called the doc to see if I was actually suppose to start taking it now, perhaps I misunderstood. The message was taken and I have yet to hear back and since it’s the weekend guess I won’t know till Monday. Anyway I think I understood her right on Wednesday and start it in a month. Like an IV infusion of chemo, I am told to expect nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, loss of appetite, hair loss and among other strange side effects. One is called hand-foot syndrome. A skin disorder made worse by any form of heat or activities that can cause sweating or heat just on the hands and feet. Weird! I will be taking 2000mg (via two pills in the morning and two in the evening) for two weeks and then one week off and two weeks, and so forth. I think the hair loss will be the worst of it for me. Vomiting and such, well I guess I can look at that as a weight loss program. [smile]. Something positive right. Hah! Please let this work for a while. Say a little prayer for me maybe. At least that the side effects won’t be so brutal.
On the emotional end it’s been touch and go. I have never once cried in front of any of my doctors. Not three years ago when I was initially told I had cancer. Nor any other time between then and now. Never cried when I broke my leg and hip, or the two surgeries that followed to repair the leg and hip. So I sat and listened to the news on Wednesday from the Nurse Practitioner. A wee irritated for I had already sat in the room alone for 35 minutes and then the Doctor was not seeing me. Asking all my questions and such, which the practitioner was not answering to my liking. She was breezing over the results, which irritated me too. So I got the basics and then she told me she would leave my file open on the computer if I wanted to read through it. She was going to talk to the doctor about what should be done now. Well too much time passed and my mind started racing and my fears rose from the depths since I was already irritated I guess. I was left sitting in that damn room for over 45 minutes. The found myself questioning my Faith. For a short period I doubted it, I felt cheated. Then I was ashamed for even letting those thoughts come alive in my mind. I had to remind myself that sometimes unanswered prayers were for a reason unbeknown to us mere mortals. Prayed for forgiveness. As the tears began to form in my eyes I realized how tired I am. I have been fighting this for three years. One day at a time for 1095 days. No days off, just constantly fighting to live. Getting up in the morning, knowing I have to take my medicine. Evenings – I have to take my medicine. The pain I feel every time I stand up to walk. Deciding what to eat that is healthy enough for me. Continuously thinking of what I can and can not eat. What I can and can not do. I quickly gathered my thoughts and put them back away. Cleared my eyes of those pesky tears. If not before now, then no way in hell was I going to let these doctors see my tears. I know that sounds stupid, but to me I guess it’s something that I do have control over, so it empowers me.
I was thankful that cancer had no spread to my vital organs. So I still have a good chance, maybe a little longer. However in the middle of the night last, it crept upon me quickly….the beginnings of a panic attack. It was like someone telling me that I was not going to live a long life. I will not be afforded that opportunity. Then I thought what in the hell can I do to leave my mark on this world… something to show for me being here how ever brief the time. I don’t want to be forgot. There has to be a reason for this. As I sat in the middle of my bed huddling a teddy bear my son had given me; I felt so totally alone, isolated. Scared and no one to call at 2:30 AM. That made the loneliness almost echo in my room, taunting me. Till I reached out and got a grasp of it. So I was alone and scared, but the fact of the matter was, it has been that way and will continue to be that way. Got it out of my system and swallowed that fear and once again buried my tears. Laid down to sleep with a snotty nose and swollen eyes, but a born again vigor to live.
With the new results and the change in treatments I know it’s only going to get worse. It’s that slap in the face to remind me what my odds were from the start, and perhaps it’s been just a little too easy for me up till now. This is a new battle and I will continue telling myself I am a warrior and I will fight the good fight. It’s the only way I know.
So what does all this entail where the change comes in? Some scary risks for one. Since the cancer is estrogen receptive, I have been on meds for almost three years to stop my ovaries from producing estrogen and another med to block estrogen from the cancer cells. It had worked wonders, but I had been told at some point the cancer cells would become resilient to the drugs and they would no longer be effective. I am grateful it lasted this long. Given one to two years to live and I will mark my 3 years on Valentines day next month. I consider myself pretty lucky. Three months ago we changed the drug I was taking to block the estrogen, because the cancer had started to spread. My new tests showed some improvement (as I mentioned in the right breast and also no colon activity this time), however since the bone cancer itself continued to spread, we have to switch it up again. That is the risky part. As of Wednesday I am no longer taking any cancer drugs at all for one month. The Zometa IV will continue every month for the bone cancer how ever. The Doctor attended a conference last week in which researchers presented a study that showed some positive results for women who were not post menopausal with breast cancer, yet we were chemically put into menopause by medication. The study showed good results by bringing our bodies out of the induced menopause, the influx of estrogen some how stunned the cancer cells and remission followed. They don’t have an explanation of how it or why it worked. So I am a guinea pig. Running out of options, so I will try anything.
The next change will be in one month as I start to take heavy doses of Xeloda (a pill form of chemo). It arrived at my front door by FedEx today. I called the doc to see if I was actually suppose to start taking it now, perhaps I misunderstood. The message was taken and I have yet to hear back and since it’s the weekend guess I won’t know till Monday. Anyway I think I understood her right on Wednesday and start it in a month. Like an IV infusion of chemo, I am told to expect nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, loss of appetite, hair loss and among other strange side effects. One is called hand-foot syndrome. A skin disorder made worse by any form of heat or activities that can cause sweating or heat just on the hands and feet. Weird! I will be taking 2000mg (via two pills in the morning and two in the evening) for two weeks and then one week off and two weeks, and so forth. I think the hair loss will be the worst of it for me. Vomiting and such, well I guess I can look at that as a weight loss program. [smile]. Something positive right. Hah! Please let this work for a while. Say a little prayer for me maybe. At least that the side effects won’t be so brutal.
On the emotional end it’s been touch and go. I have never once cried in front of any of my doctors. Not three years ago when I was initially told I had cancer. Nor any other time between then and now. Never cried when I broke my leg and hip, or the two surgeries that followed to repair the leg and hip. So I sat and listened to the news on Wednesday from the Nurse Practitioner. A wee irritated for I had already sat in the room alone for 35 minutes and then the Doctor was not seeing me. Asking all my questions and such, which the practitioner was not answering to my liking. She was breezing over the results, which irritated me too. So I got the basics and then she told me she would leave my file open on the computer if I wanted to read through it. She was going to talk to the doctor about what should be done now. Well too much time passed and my mind started racing and my fears rose from the depths since I was already irritated I guess. I was left sitting in that damn room for over 45 minutes. The found myself questioning my Faith. For a short period I doubted it, I felt cheated. Then I was ashamed for even letting those thoughts come alive in my mind. I had to remind myself that sometimes unanswered prayers were for a reason unbeknown to us mere mortals. Prayed for forgiveness. As the tears began to form in my eyes I realized how tired I am. I have been fighting this for three years. One day at a time for 1095 days. No days off, just constantly fighting to live. Getting up in the morning, knowing I have to take my medicine. Evenings – I have to take my medicine. The pain I feel every time I stand up to walk. Deciding what to eat that is healthy enough for me. Continuously thinking of what I can and can not eat. What I can and can not do. I quickly gathered my thoughts and put them back away. Cleared my eyes of those pesky tears. If not before now, then no way in hell was I going to let these doctors see my tears. I know that sounds stupid, but to me I guess it’s something that I do have control over, so it empowers me.
I was thankful that cancer had no spread to my vital organs. So I still have a good chance, maybe a little longer. However in the middle of the night last, it crept upon me quickly….the beginnings of a panic attack. It was like someone telling me that I was not going to live a long life. I will not be afforded that opportunity. Then I thought what in the hell can I do to leave my mark on this world… something to show for me being here how ever brief the time. I don’t want to be forgot. There has to be a reason for this. As I sat in the middle of my bed huddling a teddy bear my son had given me; I felt so totally alone, isolated. Scared and no one to call at 2:30 AM. That made the loneliness almost echo in my room, taunting me. Till I reached out and got a grasp of it. So I was alone and scared, but the fact of the matter was, it has been that way and will continue to be that way. Got it out of my system and swallowed that fear and once again buried my tears. Laid down to sleep with a snotty nose and swollen eyes, but a born again vigor to live.
With the new results and the change in treatments I know it’s only going to get worse. It’s that slap in the face to remind me what my odds were from the start, and perhaps it’s been just a little too easy for me up till now. This is a new battle and I will continue telling myself I am a warrior and I will fight the good fight. It’s the only way I know.
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