Tuesday morning was the big PET scan. It was raining, chilly and grey. I took advantage of the valet when I arrived at the hospital, a patient perk I tried to strictly avoid throughout treatment as it seemed like that would be giving in to cancer. When I checked in at registration I was escorted back out into the rain, to the mobile scan unit I had passed in the parking lot on my way in.
Shelly, the tech, sat me down in a tiny little room at one end of the trailer, verified that I had properly fasted, tested my glucose level, asked me twice if I might be pregnant and than inserted an IV of FDG, a radioactive glucose that would be taken in by any cancer cells. Then she left, closing the reinforced door behind her so that she and her lab partner would experience less exposure themselves. No magazines, no TV, work email slow, I was left alone with nothing but my own thoughts. I tried to focus on the muzak, make lists of things I had to do before surgery, pre-draft a blog entry in my head, anything to avoid thinking about the possibility that this test might not yield the results I needed it to. After 45 minutes, enough time to allow the glucose to spread throughout my body, I spent 20 minutes on the table for the scans. When I left they gave me a goody bag of crackers and chocolate. Someone asked me if it felt very surreal, but this entire journey has been surreal.
Waiting for two days wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Once outside that tiny room and absorbed in the day to day of life again, I was right back to believing all would be right. Except for that last hour before the appointment, sitting in my office sweating it out. What if he doesn't have results? What if there's a spot on my liver? What if? But all is right. Dr. Fisher didn't make me wait at all - before he was even over the threshold of the examination room yesterday he blurted out the PET scan was normal. No detectable cancer, complete remission. So there Steve and I are - crying, hugging, kissing, breathing - and then pulling ourselves together to talk through the rest of our questions, to understand what the next five years holds.
Regardless of what I have to look forward to in terms of surgery, scans and blood tests, despite the 30% chance of recurrence, ignoring the anxiety I know I'll feel periodically the next few years as I constantly question every twinge and ache...today I'm cancer free, today we celebrate.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
Chew On It
Today is the first Monday that I didn't have to go in for treatment. Oh, what a relief it is...
Side effects had started to really linger, initially lasting two or three days but then running out to 10 or more. So essentially, I would start to feel better by say Friday, and Monday I would start all over. That meant a lot of weekends I was quietly bracing myself, relaxing, napping, trying to conserve energy for the rollercoaster on Monday.
Not this weekend, though. This weekend I cooked, and it was more than scrambled eggs and toast. I took Donovan to the Fall festival at the Historic Park - hay rides, caramel apples, honey sticks, cowboys and indians. We went to the playground and out for happy hour. We drove around in the parking garage at the mall for 15 minutes after grocery shopping because Donovan thinks it is a tunnel. I went running. Twice. It wasn't great, but I managed to piece together a few miles each day. I ran to Bon Jovi, which reminds me of being young and carefree, when my biggest worry was getting my hair big enough. My thighs hurt today, and it feels good. It was a meaty weekend.
Throughout the last week, I've read or heard some inspiring notes that hit home. Messages I'll call up when I'm being rolled into that big scanner Thursday, or when my chest aches and I'm out of breath, thinking about slowing to a walk before that next light pole. I thought they were worth passing along.
Side effects had started to really linger, initially lasting two or three days but then running out to 10 or more. So essentially, I would start to feel better by say Friday, and Monday I would start all over. That meant a lot of weekends I was quietly bracing myself, relaxing, napping, trying to conserve energy for the rollercoaster on Monday.
Not this weekend, though. This weekend I cooked, and it was more than scrambled eggs and toast. I took Donovan to the Fall festival at the Historic Park - hay rides, caramel apples, honey sticks, cowboys and indians. We went to the playground and out for happy hour. We drove around in the parking garage at the mall for 15 minutes after grocery shopping because Donovan thinks it is a tunnel. I went running. Twice. It wasn't great, but I managed to piece together a few miles each day. I ran to Bon Jovi, which reminds me of being young and carefree, when my biggest worry was getting my hair big enough. My thighs hurt today, and it feels good. It was a meaty weekend.
Throughout the last week, I've read or heard some inspiring notes that hit home. Messages I'll call up when I'm being rolled into that big scanner Thursday, or when my chest aches and I'm out of breath, thinking about slowing to a walk before that next light pole. I thought they were worth passing along.
- 'If we don't have some perils, fears, ups and downs, don't take some risks, don't have some set-backs, how do we recognize just how much we have?' ~ Roxann Johnson
- 'Life is good and we should live passionately!' ~ Tasha Fontanes
- 'Serenity is not freedom from the storm, but peace amid the storm. Being happy doesn't mean everything is perfect. It means you 've decided to look beyond the imperfections.' ~ James Covino
- 'Back to full strength 100 yards at a time...' ~ Kevin Cuddie
- 'That was a fun hay hay, we should do it again tomorrow, Mommy.' ~ Donovan
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Next Steps
Though I'm still basking in having finished four months of chemo, there's still much to be done. Here's an outline of next steps;
- 10/5 - Consult with the surgeon in preparation for the ileostomy reversal, commonly called the 'takedown'.
- 10/7 - Testing of anastomosis. This basically verifies that I don't have any colon blockages or leaks as a result of the first surgery, which would impede the takedown. Once again, I'll be bare-assed on a table with a bunch of strangers. This from the chick who changes in a bathroom stall in the gym locker room and never peed in front of even her best girlfriends.
- 10/12 - PET/CT scan. Technically, they'll give me an IV of a tracer, a slightly radioactive glucose, wait an hour and then scan me. Any area of the body with abnormally high metabolic activity (cancer) would have a higher glucose intake, so the tracer will be highly attracted to those areas and would show up on that scan. But I know this house is clean!
- 10/14 - Review results of the scan with my oncologist.
- 10/14 (Evening) - Substantial intake of really good champagne.
- 10/25 - Takedown surgery, which will keep me in the hospital about three days and home on leave about four weeks. Even after less than six months with the ostomy, this will be a slow recovery as my colon remembers how it is supposed to work...I'm told it will likely be a year before I really feel 'normal'. Still, Mommy's 'boo-boo' will be no more.
- TBD - Port removal.
- February, 2011 to October, 2015 - For the first three years, I've have an annual CT scan, with blood work every three months. Years four and five I'll have blood work every six months, with an annual scan. And for the rest of my life I can look forward to colonoscopies every two years...
Despite the fact that there's some really rough stuff in the plan, I'm OK with it all. Everything up to this point was about killing the cancer inside me - everything from this point forward is intended to make me whole, help me recover and move on, and get back to just being me.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Finito!
I've been remiss in updating here, as Kane reminds me with relative frequency, and I do feel guilty about that. But, the time has not been wasted, rather filled with sweet events, so I can't be hard on myself. I could swear I posted something about lucky treatment number 7, which I did construct in my head, but apparently never put it to keyboard...
Treatments five and six were rough. My kick-over-the-speakers attitude was beginning to wan a bit. Sandwiched between six and seven however, Stephen and Katie came to visit. Getting to know Katie, who I gather is going to be around awhile, and seeing my brother in love, was a great distraction. The seventh treatment the following week was easier than five and six, I think because there was finally an end in sight. And with Mom in town that following weekend, recovery was easier on us all - there was a third person in the rotation for hide-and-seek, tricycle training and bath-time!
After that following week off treatment, we had a three day weekend in Napa for Jen and Mike's wedding. A day of touring wineries with friends via limo, a day off with Steve touring by bicycle, some really fabulous food, a candlelit wedding under the stars, lots of laughs and moments with great friends, the comfort of knowing Donovan was home with Yenny riding the train and eating ice cream each evening...I came back on a high and that carried right into the eighth and final post surgical treatment, which started our first day back.
Although it has been the hardest physically, it was the easiest mentally. Throughout those three days last week, no matter the nausea and that chemical taste, no matter how bad the burning in my hands and mouth, no matter a few more eyelashes - I truly believe I will never have to do this again and that made it easier to power through. And then there I was, after three and a half months of treatment, being unplugged Wednesday afternoon...rounds of hugs from all the nurses, cheers from the receptionists on my way out the door, a flood of relief and tears in the car home. It was actually hard to put into words how good it felt to be done. And then, on Thursday evening, my niece, Kasey Gabrielle Metz was born and Keith was quickly able to put it into words...she and I now share the first day of the rest of our lives.
Treatments five and six were rough. My kick-over-the-speakers attitude was beginning to wan a bit. Sandwiched between six and seven however, Stephen and Katie came to visit. Getting to know Katie, who I gather is going to be around awhile, and seeing my brother in love, was a great distraction. The seventh treatment the following week was easier than five and six, I think because there was finally an end in sight. And with Mom in town that following weekend, recovery was easier on us all - there was a third person in the rotation for hide-and-seek, tricycle training and bath-time!
After that following week off treatment, we had a three day weekend in Napa for Jen and Mike's wedding. A day of touring wineries with friends via limo, a day off with Steve touring by bicycle, some really fabulous food, a candlelit wedding under the stars, lots of laughs and moments with great friends, the comfort of knowing Donovan was home with Yenny riding the train and eating ice cream each evening...I came back on a high and that carried right into the eighth and final post surgical treatment, which started our first day back.
Although it has been the hardest physically, it was the easiest mentally. Throughout those three days last week, no matter the nausea and that chemical taste, no matter how bad the burning in my hands and mouth, no matter a few more eyelashes - I truly believe I will never have to do this again and that made it easier to power through. And then there I was, after three and a half months of treatment, being unplugged Wednesday afternoon...rounds of hugs from all the nurses, cheers from the receptionists on my way out the door, a flood of relief and tears in the car home. It was actually hard to put into words how good it felt to be done. And then, on Thursday evening, my niece, Kasey Gabrielle Metz was born and Keith was quickly able to put it into words...she and I now share the first day of the rest of our lives.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
We're Going Bananas
Monday was the start of treatment number six, though it almost didn't happen. I've hit that point where my counts have kind of bottomed out, particularly my white blood cells, platelets and potassium. Platelets and white blood cells I get. Not being able to fight off infection is an obvious danger and something I think about each day as I see the list of confirmed illness on the board at Van's school...pink eye, croup, fifth's disease.
But potassium? Is that really critical, I asked? Silly me...your muscles need potassium to contract, your heart to regulate blood pressure and the rest of your body to maintain cellular processes. Low potassium, or Hypokalemia (check out the big brain on Brad...), makes you weak. I'm sure this is contributing to my staggering out of bed each morning completely zapped of energy after a solid 10 hours of ambien induced sleep, as if I've slept all night with a lump of kryptonite under my pillow.
So, after I promised to stock up on potassium rich foods and shun all sick people, the doc agreed to treatment. Van and I are now locked in competition to see who can eat the most bananas and canteloupe, although he still gets the highly valued 'sticker banana'. After he proudly peals that sticker off and hands it to me I wait until he isn't looking and then stick it back on another banana in the bunch, so we never run out.
But potassium? Is that really critical, I asked? Silly me...your muscles need potassium to contract, your heart to regulate blood pressure and the rest of your body to maintain cellular processes. Low potassium, or Hypokalemia (check out the big brain on Brad...), makes you weak. I'm sure this is contributing to my staggering out of bed each morning completely zapped of energy after a solid 10 hours of ambien induced sleep, as if I've slept all night with a lump of kryptonite under my pillow.
So, after I promised to stock up on potassium rich foods and shun all sick people, the doc agreed to treatment. Van and I are now locked in competition to see who can eat the most bananas and canteloupe, although he still gets the highly valued 'sticker banana'. After he proudly peals that sticker off and hands it to me I wait until he isn't looking and then stick it back on another banana in the bunch, so we never run out.
Monday, August 16, 2010
No Whining Please!
Last week was an 'on' week, chemo Mon-Wed. My doctor had told me that it would start to run downhill at the fourth treatment, but then the fourth went so well I almost didn't believe him. Still, the evening before the fifth I felt a sense of dread and self pity, something I can honestly say I've been able to easily side step up until then. I just want to be done and get back to life as we know it. And on top of that, I had tried to go for a run, but four months of doing little more than walking to the park made for a demoralizing experience. My legs were tight, I was out of breath, and I had to link spurts of walking and running just to get to the the 2 mile mark! Throughout Sunday evening, I was feeling sorry for myself and my inside voice was emitting a high and constant whine. Even online shopping and some smokin' deals on last year's ski wear wasn't enough to pull me out of my funk.
So, needless to the say, the fifth treatment arrived anyway, and it was, as the doctor predicted, worse. The side effects I do have like nausea and nueropathy are a little more extreme and lasting a little longer with each treatment. Plus, a few new side effects have started to pop up. I've noticed a little more hair on the bathroom floor when I'm done with the blowdryer, but luckily given the amount of hair I have, even my hairdresser of eight years can't tell the difference. I do however, seem to be missing most of my lower lid eyelashes suddenly. And I've started to get bloody noses, as the chemo can effect the membranes throughout your body. Super.
So all of last week I felt pretty crummy. And then Steve went off to the mountains for three days of golf, mountain biking and bbq, for Mike's bachelor party. Though I insisted he go, as again this takes nothing from us unless I let it, I knew being a single parent was going to be exhausting!
Despite the pity-party-for-one earlier in the week, as the weekend arrived I started to gain back some perspective, helped in large part by a casual girls night on the back patio with plenty of wine. I only have three treatments and five weeks left, with a long weekend in Napa sandwiched in on a good week to look forward to. And for all the poison being poured into it, my body is still hanging tough! Even as side effects worsen I know that I've metabolized the drugs much better than most, and as a result, I've experienced fewer and less severe side effects than most. I need to be proud of and kind to my body, despite it's wobbly bits and missing eyelashes, as this vessel is carrying me through rougher waters than anyone could have predicted, and we haven't been swamped yet!
So, needless to the say, the fifth treatment arrived anyway, and it was, as the doctor predicted, worse. The side effects I do have like nausea and nueropathy are a little more extreme and lasting a little longer with each treatment. Plus, a few new side effects have started to pop up. I've noticed a little more hair on the bathroom floor when I'm done with the blowdryer, but luckily given the amount of hair I have, even my hairdresser of eight years can't tell the difference. I do however, seem to be missing most of my lower lid eyelashes suddenly. And I've started to get bloody noses, as the chemo can effect the membranes throughout your body. Super.
So all of last week I felt pretty crummy. And then Steve went off to the mountains for three days of golf, mountain biking and bbq, for Mike's bachelor party. Though I insisted he go, as again this takes nothing from us unless I let it, I knew being a single parent was going to be exhausting!
Despite the pity-party-for-one earlier in the week, as the weekend arrived I started to gain back some perspective, helped in large part by a casual girls night on the back patio with plenty of wine. I only have three treatments and five weeks left, with a long weekend in Napa sandwiched in on a good week to look forward to. And for all the poison being poured into it, my body is still hanging tough! Even as side effects worsen I know that I've metabolized the drugs much better than most, and as a result, I've experienced fewer and less severe side effects than most. I need to be proud of and kind to my body, despite it's wobbly bits and missing eyelashes, as this vessel is carrying me through rougher waters than anyone could have predicted, and we haven't been swamped yet!
Thursday, August 5, 2010
NY State of Mind
When I moved to Colorado (has it really been 13 years!?) I vowed that I would never skip an important family celebration because of geography. Add to that my commitment to not just surviving cancer but conquering cancer - the difference, I believe, being that I will not let this take anything more away from me than is absolutely necessary. So, I may not miss that six inches of colon, but I absolutely would not miss my brother's 30th birthday weekend.
It was a very quick trip, a total of about 72 hours on the Island, but just what we needed.
A little family time at Jones Beach Friday. Hot dogs, cold beer, feet in the sand, waves rolling in, watching Van and Keira try to figure out this new substance under foot. And if it wasn't already perfect enough, after the playground and ice cream at Friendlies, there was a Motley Crue cover band at the little ampitheatre along the boardwalk. I'm on my way, I'm on my waaaa-aaay, home sweet home...
Saturday was Stephen's big day. A bus full of family and pals spent the day touring vineyards and a vodka distillery, sharing our favorite Stephen tales along the way. From what I can remember, we were all good and boozy by the time the bus dropped off us at the 'rents place. Now, at 30, Stephen's friends are only really just getting into the married with kids phase, and so across the group they seem to be doing a pretty impressive job of keeping the early 20s lifestyle going. As would be expected of any good Metz bash back in the day, there was a lot of tossing of bodies into the pool, Matty spent most of the late night naked, and there was the requisite beer chugging contest - the winner of which was, in a former life, the 1998 Ward Melville chugging champ, but is now by day a respectable high school math teacher. At 4 am, I could still hear the last of the bunch giggling out on the deck. I wondered how they have the energy and when Steve and I grew so old, but at 2 pm the next day, when several of them were still asleep upstairs, I was reminded that they have no children...
Sunday, the entire DeKoskie clan made the long trek down from K-town, along with more local family and friends. Pool time for the kids, bbq, good conversation and lots of hugs and photo ops. Is it me or was Donovan the only child that spent most of the day clad in a diaper or altogether naked?
By Sunday night I was torched, but it was the kind of complete, deep and happy exhaustion one gets after a vacation full of laughs and love. Thanks to all who planned, traveled, cooked and otherwise contributed to make the weekend as spectacular as it was.
It was a very quick trip, a total of about 72 hours on the Island, but just what we needed.
A little family time at Jones Beach Friday. Hot dogs, cold beer, feet in the sand, waves rolling in, watching Van and Keira try to figure out this new substance under foot. And if it wasn't already perfect enough, after the playground and ice cream at Friendlies, there was a Motley Crue cover band at the little ampitheatre along the boardwalk. I'm on my way, I'm on my waaaa-aaay, home sweet home...
Saturday was Stephen's big day. A bus full of family and pals spent the day touring vineyards and a vodka distillery, sharing our favorite Stephen tales along the way. From what I can remember, we were all good and boozy by the time the bus dropped off us at the 'rents place. Now, at 30, Stephen's friends are only really just getting into the married with kids phase, and so across the group they seem to be doing a pretty impressive job of keeping the early 20s lifestyle going. As would be expected of any good Metz bash back in the day, there was a lot of tossing of bodies into the pool, Matty spent most of the late night naked, and there was the requisite beer chugging contest - the winner of which was, in a former life, the 1998 Ward Melville chugging champ, but is now by day a respectable high school math teacher. At 4 am, I could still hear the last of the bunch giggling out on the deck. I wondered how they have the energy and when Steve and I grew so old, but at 2 pm the next day, when several of them were still asleep upstairs, I was reminded that they have no children...
Sunday, the entire DeKoskie clan made the long trek down from K-town, along with more local family and friends. Pool time for the kids, bbq, good conversation and lots of hugs and photo ops. Is it me or was Donovan the only child that spent most of the day clad in a diaper or altogether naked?
By Sunday night I was torched, but it was the kind of complete, deep and happy exhaustion one gets after a vacation full of laughs and love. Thanks to all who planned, traveled, cooked and otherwise contributed to make the weekend as spectacular as it was.
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