Blood, Sweat and Tears

Early on a friend told me that I would find a little bit of good news in each visit, and he was right.

The chemo pump went back on yesterday after a two week break, and during our visit my doctor had plenty to share. First, my white and red blood cells, platelets and various other blood components have all stayed very stable - on the mid to very low side, but all still in the normal range. As chemotherapy drugs can't distinguish between healthy and evil cells it attacks them all, which naturally results in these various counts dropping. The ability to fight off infection and stop bleeding is pretty critical, so these complete blood counts (CBCs) are closely monitored each week. Beyond the normal range is the 'lower-than-normal-but-we'll-still-treat-you range', followed by the 'so-low-we-can't-chemo-you-up-this-week-and-don't-cut-yourself-shaving range'. I hope to avoid both.

More importantly, they shared the results of the genetic testing they had performed on my biopsy. They were looking for the five genetic mutations commonly associated with hereditary nonpolyposis colorectal cancer (HNPCC), which is a syndrome that puts people at higher risk for colorectal cancer. Some studies indicate that without screening as much as 80% of people with HNPCC will develop this cancer, compared to about 4% of the general population, and at a much earlier age.

I tested negative for each, meaning that mine is assumed to be just a sporadic cancer. Given the maze that cancer is, there are likely other hereditary genetic mutations that simply haven't been isolated yet, but I'm willing to take these results for what they are, which is good news. For me, while it doesn't rule out a recurrence, people without HNPCC tend to respond better to treatment and have slightly less risk of recurrence. Most importantly, though Van will still have to go for regular screening at an early age now that he has this dreaded family history, I did not pass any known genetic mutation on to him - and it is unlikely that my brothers carry them either.

I don't think I realized how heavily this was weighing on me until Dr. Conlin shared the news and I promptly broke down in tears. This is rare for me, and based on her pie-eyed, mad scramble for tissues, I know I surprised us both - but I imagine oncologists don't get to see happy tears as often as they would like, so I don't think she minded.

Age is Just a Number

Steve says I'm making him old before his time, but he did turn 40 last Thursday, so I don't think he can blame it all on me. This being such an important birthday, I had spent weeks worrying over how to make it special, especially given that when I was diagnosed he backed out of the birthday trip of a lifetime - a 10-day ski trip to Chamonix, France. Though I had objected, someone pointed out that I wouldn't think twice about doing the same for him, and this is true. Luckily, this birthday fell during my second week off chemo, and I felt great.

On Thursday, we had a special dinner at The Flagstaff House, up on the hill overlooking the lights of Boulder. From the amuse-bouche (the chef's bite size interpretation of a BLT), past the intermezzo course of grapefruit sorbet and through to the final sweet spoonfuls of maple panna cotta, this was a memorable meal. As this was our first night out just the two of us since this all started, it was even more delightful.

Mary Ellen, a very wise colleague, reminded me early in the week that I should spend some of my good days at home too, and she was right. Steve and I both took Friday off, and right after radiation Friday morning we trekked up to Frisco for the weekend. Much of our Denver family joined us on Friday night, so we were rolling deep. (To ensure that Steve stays hip as he ages, I picked him up some slang flashcards. FYI, 'rolling deep' means to travel with a big entourage.)

Saturday, Alty and Brooke watched Van so that Steve and I could ski with the gang, and it was just what I needed to clear my head - four inches fresh on a warm, blue bird day, plenty of fast turns, some time spent on the kiddie hill teaching sweet Riley how to snow plow, and as there is more to skiing than skiing, beers on the deck afterward. That night we all gathered under one roof to sing happy birthday and toast Steve for being young at heart. Throughout the evening, it was just so easy to take in the joy around us; there were friends both old and new, friends quite obviously falling in love, two couples planning weddings, two expecting, half a dozen giggling children with icing smeared across their faces, champagne corks popping and wave after wave of laughter. I don't think I could have imagined a more perfect way to re-energize and prepare for these next two weeks of treatment than this.