I've never been particularly sneaky or good at subterfuge. My cancer, however, excels at both. When I tried sneaking around in HS (peer pressure man) I was inevitably caught and then made fun of for what I horrible lier I was. My cancer though is soooo good at hanging out under the radar and then emerging in droves for a rave! After reappearing and shattering my hopes of being NED (no evidence of disease) for a long stint, my cancer also outsmarted my chemotherapy. Again.
I received six rounds of Abraxane and then it came time to scan again. I'm happy to report that my lungs are clear and my bone mets remain stable; the tumors along my spine have been causing minimal pain. It's an annoyance at this point, but not a cause of tremendous concern.
My liver though....it looks like it's been blanketed in a polkadot pattern throughout. The CT scan noted there are "innumerable" tumors in both the left and right lobes, and that two of the tumors have grown in size considerably since my prior scan.
Fuuuuuuuuuuudge.
On to the next drug, my fourth line of defense against an extremely aggressive foe.
As I write this, I am awaiting the results of a stat echocardiogram, to determine whether my heart is strong enough to handle the cocktail we've landed on as a potential means to get this back under control.
This, you see, is how stage IV, metastatic disease is treated. We weigh the drug options against the risks and hope it works. Eventually, the cancer outsmarts the drug and we start over again, for as long as our bodies can take it. It's a kind of Russian Roulette.
So I don't buy it when anyone tells me this should be viewed as a "chronic condition." I am not the same as a diabetic... I don't get my insulin, make the right lifestyle choices, and move on with my life. I could be doing everything right, yet my cancer seems to continue to be one step ahead of me, determined to kill me off.
My husband and I decided to get a second opinion this week. While the doctor was very compassionate, the meeting really only validated what we already knew- we've been receiving excellent care, but I'm at the point where I run the risk of my liver failing. I'm at the point where we may be at our final few treatment options.
My oncologist and I had the conversation of what's most important to me at this stage-- an aggressive treatment that will leave me utterly wiped out for weeks at a time, or a higher quality of life and a treatment regime that means coming to the hospital weekly but having a higher chance of functioning day to day. I chose the latter.
I told my oncologist that I really want to take my son to Disney in the next few years. With remorse in his eyes, he told me I'd better plan that trip for sometime over the next few months.
The only time I've been to Disney was back in HS when I went with our symphonic choir to sing during a candlelight processional. It really did feel like the most magical place in the world and I was so thankful to be a part of that experience. Having a young son, who is obsessed with Mickey Mouse, I cannot wait to see the joy on his face and to share that magic with him!
I've been living appointment to appointment for the better part of a year. It's high time I start living moment to moment, making positive memories along the way.
