Believe....in new treatments

I met with my new Oncologist yesterday. He was a nice man. I think you have to be a genuinely nice person when you are in the business of telling people that their lives may be in peril.

He began with telling me that he has been hearing "my story" for quite some time. At the Dr's conferences when they discuss the best options for the patients, this is where he's heard my story. Because the cancer has spread now, in my abdomen, I've got quite the team behind me. I still have the Surgeon, I still have my Radiologist Oncologist, and now I have him. He was very kind to let me know that they were doing their very best for me. That felt...comforting, but did little to ease the discomfort of the conversation I knew was coming.

He explained why the surgery would not benefit me right now.   I could have potentially undergone an extensive operation, weeks of pain with very little gain. The cancer would probably still be lurking. With chemo, the intention is to kill the crazy rogue cells, and tame the cancer that is there now.  

He explained my chemotherapy protocol, I will have it once every 3 weeks. Always one with the latest and greatest, all eyes will be on me as I become the first patient in BC to get the newest and best chemotherapy drugs out there.

He used words like "complicated cancer", and "prolong", and gentle words such as in "while you are in our care". I felt like parts of the conversation I wasn't there, then a loudness would come into my ears and bring me back to him talking. I know I heard everything, but, at times it was sureal.

Once I start chemo, I will have blood tests and scans and this test and that test...not to mention being knocked off my feet with it. The type of chemo isn't supposed to make you nauseous but, everyone is different, so hopefully I don't have too many reactions.

Yes.   I will lose my hair. Yes. I am terrified. Yes. That scares me more then the chemo does. No. I am not afraid to admit that.

I do not have the self esteem to rock a bald head.   I wish I did, but I don't. Sure, there are wigs and scarves, and yes, I will find something that works. I am simply terrified of feeling vulnerable, or that's how I think I will feel. Although, when I see a woman with a scarf or a hat on their head, vulnerable is the last word that comes to my mind. I think of strength, beauty, a warrior. I hope to get there for myself.  

All in all, I am glad we are starting the chemo soon, the waiting is really the hardest part. I start the chemo the week after next. Meanwhile, since my hair is the longest it's ever been...I will be taking secret selfies, I'm sure ;)

Today was my friend Lisa's Celebration of Life. It was a beautiful ceremony, although and of course incredibly sad. Those in attendance represented all of the communities that Lisa was involved in, mostly sports as all three of her children were very talented athletically. Her youngest sons whole baseball team was in attendance. It was a true testament to Lisa, and to her family as well‎.

**Hey Lis...there was standing room only when we said goodbye to you today, I know you would have been bashful about it but you deserved it, you touched a lot of hearts. I hate to tell you this...but someone was at your funeral, and they were wearing white shoes (!)...I know right!!?. Anyways my dear sweet friend, it's not goodbye, it's see you soon, but just not yet. I love you**

‎I have a favourite quote from Maya Angelou;

"I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel‎"

I would like to thank everyone who has sent me a note, text or email asking how I am or seeing if there is anything you can help with, thank you. Also, thank you to Dawn LB, Laura C, Lisa M, Janet B, Tegan C and Wendy S, I truly appreciate your thoughtfulness.

I believe that I will do ok with the chemo. 

Bye for now!

xo

s

Believe.....and bad news

Update Below

(written early May 13)

I'm behind in my updates, my apologies to those of you who keep checking for something new, and I have delivered, well, up until now, nothing.

The last week and a half has been difficult.   I met with the surgeon, found I had lost a dear friend, and had a small surgery. I also found out that when it came time to try and write about my week(s), I had a serious case of writers block. 

For some reason, putting into words all that I learned from the surgeon, my feelings about the week, usually an undaunted task, seemed...overwhelmingly difficult.

‎I will start with something easy. The small surgery I had was to remove the Stent that was put near my bladder because the tumour was squishing my "pee tube". Since the tumour is gone (yay!), the Stent does not have to be there. It was a fairly easy day, although coming back from the anesthia is always kind of yucky, you would think I would be a pro by now.

‎My mom and I met with the surgeon at the cancer centre. He was very nice, knows his stuff and was very straight forward with what needed to be done. While my other Dr tried to reassure us that the mass in my omentum could just be necrotic tissue, this Dr spoke to it as if it was specifically cancer. When I tried to get him to speak to it being only the necrotic tissue, he said that, that would be great but we obviously need to err on the side of caution and treat it as if it isn't.   He also took a small biopsy in order to discount or confirm there being any small microscopic cancer cells roaming around. He told us this was not likely the case, but, if it came back positive, the surgery would not be a go. Having the biopsy be positive would mean the small cells are more of a threat spreading around, then what needs to be removed. This was worst case scenario, and he proceeded to tell us why.  As you can imagine, the conversation got quite difficult after that.

We discussed the effects of the old cancer spreading to the omentum, vs it being a new occurrence of cancer in the omentum. Basically any type of cancer spreading is bad news. Worse, cancer of the omentum can be fatal.

Despite everything I have gone thru, this appointment by far, although progressive, was one of the most un-settling for me. So much so, that I went and got a small tattoo on my wrist, it says "believe". I don't want for one minute to not believe I won't be at each of my children's weddings, or for when they have children. I believe I am going to keep living.

And then, I found out Lisa had passed away. Leaving behind two daughters and a son. My kids and I all took this news very hard. Lisa was always very good to us, we all adored her. I wrote about her, as a way to cope. She was particularly supportive of me since my diagnosis, both of us having a disease where neither of us had any control, but our lives were under its control. ‎ I will miss her dearly.

There is some good news, believe it or not! Hayley has moved home, which means that I have all 3 kids here with me. I can't tell you how happy that makes me!

The date of my surgery is May 28th. I'm expected to be in the hospital‎ for about 4 or 5 days after, and recoup time will be about 6-8 weeks.

***UPDATED***
(late evening May 13th)

I got a call from the surgeon this evening. He called to let me know that the biopsy that he had done, came out positive.‎ This was not the news we wanted.

This means that the surgery is off for now, this means that the mass we were hoping was simply necrotic tissue is more then likely cancer. This means that I start aggressive chemotherapy right away. This means that the cancer is/has spread in my pelvis, and there are no guarentees.

Now, more then ever I am very happy that all three of my children are with me at home.  ‎Chemotherapy will be difficult, and it will take its toll on all of us. 

I know people will want to help and support my wonderful little family. Whatever that looks like for you, we will appreciate.  

xo

s

‎

All our stars are silent...

On Thursday, May 1, I lost a very dear friend. Her name was Lisa. She contracted a heart virus at a young age, ending her career as a nurse, and starting a career nursing a bad heart. The bitter irony is that Lisa had one of the best hearts I've ever known.

We met at the baseball park‎, her husband coached my son. Over the years, our kids played ball together, or her husband coached, either way, we were always happy to be on the same team. Cheering on each others children, sharing our lives while spending our lives at the ballpark, was always a pleasure and a boatload of laughs when I was with Lisa.

As our kids grew out of little league, and onto other parks, schools and friends, we didn't see each other as often.  When we did see each other, it was as if time hadn't slipped away at all, Lisa always had the same greeting for me "how are you, how are your beautiful children?", along with a warm hug.

Lisa was a source of strength for many, obviously including myself. When I lost my father to cancer, she was supportive, even when I tried to shut the door on everything and everyone, Lisa found a way in. She wanted to make sure I knew, I was loved, I was cared for, and when the hell were we going to go out for a Gingerbread Latte?

‎A few years ago, when my marriage broke down, and I was also sick with RA. Lisa sent me an email with topless, oiled up firefighters that had some cheesy saying on it. It was laugh out loud funny because it was just so Lisa. When I got diagnosed with cancer, Lisa started sending me funny quotes, inspirational quotes, more firemen and pretty much anything you can think of, daily. She wanted me to keep my head in the game, and not give up.   She encouraged me to keep writing in my blog, and she would always find a catchphrase that she liked and use it when she wrote to me.

 Always a fashion "do" and never a "dont" was Lisa. When I shared with everyone that my cancer team was "going for the gold"...she shows up at my house with a gold handbag, and wallet...because yes, we are going for the gold and we were going to proudly show it, with fashion, of course.

With Lisa, you always knew her family came first. She was involved in all of her three children's sports, their schooling and whatever their interests you could tell Lisa supported them 100%. She's passed along her kindhearted ways to all three, and that's always been clear, from young ones to now, her children, are a true reflection of her, kind, intelligent, respectful, all with big hearts.

Never was that more clear to me, than when I had that painful conversation with her oldest daughter just a few days ago. Kristina called to tell me the awful news, she bravely told me what happened, while we both cried. Towards the end of the conversation, when I asked if there was anything I could do, ever her Mother, Kristina did not think of herself, she thought of me. She told me how much her mom loved me and cared for me, and the thing that I should do is to beat this cancer, that's what Lisa would want me to do.

I will miss Lisa dearly, memories of the ballpark, her laugh and her wonderful friendship will always have a place in my heart.