After a two week delay of chemo due to my ridiculous stomach issues, I was ready for cycle 2 (or as close to ready as any cancer patient can be when they willingly allow poisons to be pumped into their veins for hours at a time). Something my Aunt describes as "Somewhere between anticipation and dread. And ultimately a darned inconvenience, but accepted." But after meeting with the doc before treatment, he explained that it was still too dangerous to administer two of the three types of chemo that I should be receiving. There is just too much risk with my colon at this time.
It is very hard to remain positive when you think you have a gameplan. It is in many ways discouraging when you know that one of your last options (this aggressive chemo cocktail that I was prescribed) may ultimately be too much for my weakened body to handle. So we hope that in a few weeks my body will have healed enough to get this cocktail again. Hope seems to be the word of the year.
The scariest part is that nobody knows what drug actually works. My doctor calls this a phase 2 study. There is nothing settling about treating your life with a study. Nothing. So when you see positive results from a chemo cocktail that seems to be working, and are told that only one can be used right now, it is a feeling beyond disappointment. It is hard to accept. When I asked if he thought administering the Taxol only would be effective, he said he doesn't know. Nobody knows. Days like this is when I wish for that "normal " cancer. As if there is such a thing. For those that don't know what monster lives inside of me, check out this link. It is the most clear, to the point explanation I have found. If you already know enough, skip it. http://www.mdanderson.org/patient-and-cancer-information/cancer-information/cancer-types/cervical-cancer/small-and-large-cell.html
So I'm writing from home on this freezing day, when I was hoping (or something like hope) to receive two more poisons today and tomorrow. It is what it is. So instead of feeling down, I take the words from my team, my warriors and carry on. I look at pictures of my beautiful nieces and nephews. I listen to some good tunes. I keep myself in good, good company. I remind myself that I will be back to work again before I know it. I will make it to Kiawah Island in the Spring. I will beat this.
So I'll end today's post with a quote my sister shared with me.
Tina I can only imagine how scary it is to go through treatment as a "study." But the good thing is they are trying different things. Wishing for "normal" cancer...what a powerful line. As hard as it is, I know you'll stay optimistic because that's who you are. Thinking and praying and hoping for the best. Miss you! -Whit
ReplyDeleteTina! Its been far too long. I just heard this news and am thinking of you now and will be until you make it through. I can't imagine how unnerving it must be to go down this rare path that few have gone down before- but you have the powerful opportunity to forge a way for those who follow! I am delighted to hear that your body is getting much needed rest and recovery before taking on more demonic poisons. It has more power to heal itself than we give it credit for!
ReplyDeleteI pray that you'll be surrounded by good energy, good tunes, good food, good people, and beautiful things to lift your spirits. I'm in Cleveland and always interested in seeing art at one of the museums- it is a pretty relaxed, non-physical activity and if your interested I would love to hear from you. Good Luck!
All my Best,
Ann