Flying to SanFran with My Cancer

Some thought I was crazy to be flying to SF a mere 17 hours post-chemo-- crazy, or perhaps impressive. (I don't think theyre inconsistent!)   It turned out to be neither, a rather hassle-free flight, with the worst part some slight tummy upset in the taxi ride to Dulles.  (Those taxi rides, even brief ones, can be challenging even to strong GI systems!).  I'm on Virgin America, which somewhat surprisingly let me board. "Have your ticket, miss?" "Yes." "Virgin?" "Um . . .  yes. "

My seatmate, a quiet woman sitting by the window, while I'm on the aisle, silently prayed before and during takeoff and landing, Buddist prayer.  Initially I did not want to invade her peaceful personal bubble, but we eventualy chatted, & she confirmed she is Buddhist, from Myanmar, practicing a very pure branch of Buddhism.  She encouraged me to meditate (one of my personal goals, one I have not quite gotten the rythm or hang of yet.)  She explained the simplicity of her faith: just 5 rules: don't kill;  don't lie; don't steal; don't engage in sexual misconduct; have sex outside of marriage; don't become intoxicated.   Wow, only half the number of the 10 Commandments, and 3 out of 5 seem quite easy!  I told her that last I could not agree to--she said that occssionally a little bit of wine is acceptable, for example, while one is shoveling snow(might work better for those of you in Chicago or Minnesota! DC, not so much).  Despite this disconnect, I was very comforted by her praying, in that if she was taken care of in a flight emergency, I might be covered also, just by my proximity to her.  Plus, she seemed so good and pure that I left all of my belongings on the empty middle seat when I went to the restroom.

It reminded me of a flight to Israel on El Al in the Winter of 2003, for the Jerusalem wedding of my oldest niece. If you've ever flown on a similar flight, you may have noticed religious Jews (mostly men), decked in dark garb, replete with prayer shawls, tzitzit, etc, davening (praying while swaying and slightly bowing), most often near the restrooms--apparently the only place to stand uninterupted.   My daughter, 8 years old at the time, whispered to me " Are they praying for themselves, or did the airline hire them to pray for everyone?" I thought that was a brilliant idea, and even moreso fueled by innocence.  She always was wise beyond her years.

Buddhist seatmate and i exchanged email addresses, and she promised to send me more wise thoughts and insight.  I gave her a fruit nut bar, as she seemed to have missed the Virgin food service.  She later ordered a Bloody Mary and gave me the 2 oz bottle of Bombay Sapphire, which was so sweet of her! I love flexibility in one's rules.

I will be in the Golden Gate City for a mere 25 hours, but am wondering if I can possibly leave my cancer there--  its a big state--and very progressive--maybe there's some sort of toxic waste dump that would take it? Or what if I claim my cancer needs its own seat, and then it doesn't have an ID or boarding pass? OK, lame ideas, perhaps.  But if Tony Bennett can leave his whole heart in San Francisco, why can't I drop off a few retroperitoneal lymph nodes??  It only seems fair.

For now, sending you all good karma, and best wishes for safe travels, wherever your path may take you.

 Sandi

Anyone know how to take a sick day?

Yesterday, I walked into a morning meeting at the office, half an hour late; threw down my coat & bags, and while searching for a pen, my large Kate Spade purse spilled onto the floor, leaving a trail of medicine bottles, yogurts, and lip gloss. ( I had not had time to eat, take all my meds, or properly fix my face before 10:30 am). I felt like Carrie Bradshaw on chemo.  I looked at my colleagues and said "if the garage guy gets shot, it will be my fault."  Several VPs had to step over my trail of personal items on their way to another meeting.  Fortunately, it was only an internal staff meeting, and fotunately I no longer get graded on behavior, like I did in school.  Yesterday afternoon, I told my colleagues that I was taking the day off today, as well as Saturday and Sunday.  I'd hate to become all-work, no play, making Sandi a dull girl.

So today, I am home, taking a sick day.  I'm not sure what that means, or really what to do. I'm not exactly debiliated: I can walk, breathe, and type, and don't have any doctor's appts. Although I might have a sore throat coming on. Maybe I should call someone about that.

And technology invades. I love love love my Ipad & Iphone, but they result in many many emails, and I cannot tune out all of the things that I should do, people I should reply to,  follow up with, etc.  Before blackberries & iphones, we just didnt know how much work was waiting for us.  Before catscans & petscans, MRIs, and tumor markers, we didn't know how much cancer was growing inside of us.  It is harder to rest, harder to stay innocent.

Today's page of my Latin American "Revelations" book has a poem:

This is not the first time
offshoot of humankind bearing firewood
whom you see raising up hope
from the ground.  You hope.
Hope, for you, can arise only from the earth.

Sending much hope and love to all of you,

Sandi

Later on Jan 25, 2013: Surprise!!

My lovely daughter drove home from college in NC for a surprise visit!

I cannot remember a happier moment than seeing her face and wrapping our arms around each other. 

Hope and love abound.

Chemo Cycle 2 & Realizing What's Important

I have completed 2 cycles of treatment since December 20: 4 chemo "sittings," 2 follow-up shots, numerous other visits with dentists, alternative healthcare providers, & non-oncologists.  No partridge in a pear tree.  Side effects have been relatively minimal & tolerable.  In cycle 1, I had a stomache ache for about 5 days--not debilitating, but annoying enough to keep me from wanting to work out or do very much at all.  Dr S thus prescribed "valium for the tummy." Yum.  This version of mother's little helper really worked for me.

In both cycles, I have had bone pain, a side effect of "the shot." The shot is a biotech drug that works to keep my white blood cell count up, as the chemo tries to pull it down.  It empowers my body to fend off infection. It works by activating cells in my bone marrow that produce those white blood cells.  In doing so, it can cause bone pain. I only experienced this once back in 2010, when I felt  a sense of little hammers beating away at my spine. I called Dr. S' office in distress, and they advised it was the expected bone pain.  (oh, sorry, I thought you meant achiness, not an all-out attack on my spine! ). It was managed just fine back then with OTC meds.  This time, the bone pain has not been just one battle, but a several day attack. As advised by the nurses, since I'm a second-timer, my white blood cell count was less hearty to begin with; so the shot is powering into my spine, ribs, breastbone, jaw.  One day it felt almost like labor pains, 10 minutes apart, 5 minutes apart . . . I eventually got something better for the pain, which I only needed to use once, as the bone jolts have subsided for now.

Other than that, it's been largely positive.  I've kept my hair thus far (more on that in another post); feel pretty good; am told I look good (and not just, "you look good for a cancer patient"). :). I was feeling strong and accomplished, and yes, I managed chemo on the same day I met with foreign government officials, including a delicious dinner & fabulous wine at Bourbon Steak in the Four Seasons Hotel in DC.  If you want to blow big bucks on an amazing dinner, go there! 5 stars!  So despite (or in between) the side effect annoyances, I have been quite happy, even euphoric at times.

Until this week.  I was swamped at work, and my schedule did not give me the opportunity to work from home (which I'm trying to do one day a week, to take the edge off). I had almost nonstop meetings;  have several business trips coming up to prepare for; and worked well into the evening 3 days in a row. On the second day, I put my head down on my desk during a conference call that led to a handful of new tasks. An hour later, I burst into tears reading the blog of  the sister of a neighborhood friend--the blogger is also a triple negative breast cancer patient It's fairly rare, and I don't know anyone else . . )  and she wrote poignantly about their mother's funeral.  It brought to light what is really important in life--I love what I do professionally, but when it comes down to it--what really matters? Memos and legislative strategies and legal analysis? Or sisters and mothers and relatives with illnesses, and loved ones coming together to celebrate the good times, and hold each other up in the tough times?

This is a question for which I think we all know the answer.

First chemo treatment . . since 2010

I started chemo today, for the second time in my life.  In 2010, I had surgery (lumpectomy and node-ectomy); followed by adjuvant chemotherapy (meaning there was no known cancer in my body following surgery--the chemo was intended to swoop in and kill off any stray cancer cells); topped off by radiation.  It was a triple header, intended to blast out all cancer activity, and make it run for the hills.  (No offense in tended to anyone who may live in the hills.)  There is a "triple" theme here, as the kind of breast cancer I have is called triple negative--meaning it it tests negatively for estrogen receptors, progersterone receptors, and Her2/Neu.  If youre going to have breast cancer, this would not be the one to choose, as there are fewer targeted treatments, among other unpleasant characteristics. 

Just a few weeks ago, through an incidental diagnosis (meaning, there were no signs/symptoms of cancer, & we werent looking for any, at least that day . . )--we learned that I in fact am not/was not cancer-free, so I am starting chemo again.

It is different than last time—different drugs, different regimen.  I’m still getting my sea legs in terms of managing the side effects. And I’m no longer a cancer virgin or, as the oncology nurse described it—I’m no longer "chemo-naive."  (that's for friggin' sure!) So while some aspects are new--I have a port this time, which should make the whole process more efficient, some of it is "old hat" (no pun intended!).  The whole process of having large amounts of liquid infused into my veins for a few hours is not, in and of itself, very scary by now.  But, of course, not being chemo-naive means I'm also not blind to the fact that devoting my time, energy, committment, etc. (plus that of the medical staff) does not alway guarantee a successful result. 

Stay tuned for more exciting news, including: hair loss or no hair loss? Can cancer diva have chemo treatment and dinner with the foreign health officials in the same day? Will this treatment work??

There are many, many questions to be asked and answered.

Yours in seeking to be cancer-free . . .

Sandi

Sandi v. Cancer, Round 2

Its Baaaaaack! (to be stated in the tone of a preschool Drew Barrymore-lookalike in the 1982 Spielberg horror film “Poltergeist” )

I was 2 years cancer free in April 2012 (or so we thought).  The legal department gave me a plant. October 14, 2012 was exactly 2 1/2 years out AND my 56 1/2 year birthday (and no, no one gave me half of a birthday cake).  On that day, I proudly participated in Living Beyond Breast Cancer's Yoga on the Steps fundraiser, and (again) was the top individual fundraiser.  Yay me, and yay, my generous, thoughtful friends and family! I was called up to the stage and given the microphone & announced that I was exactly halfway through my five years. (as you may know, 5 year survival and 5-year non-recurrence are important milestones for cancer patients.)

Around that time, the plant seemed troubled and was not thriving, a bad sign.  Then in early November, a trip to the dentist led (via a rollercoaster week of testing) to the conclusion that my breast cancer has reoccurred.  And, no, my dentist was not feeling my breasts (or being "fresh", as my Mom might have said . . . Wow, the use of "fresh" has really changed!). The tale of the dentist, and that roller coaster ride, will be described in a future post.  

Any-hoo, my cancer must really love me.  I thought we broke up, but it snuck back. It’s like a stalker that you thought you got rid of--then you come home one night and he's sitting on your living room couch, feet up on the coffee table, wearing your slippers,  drinking your wine, and reading your latest “Wine Spectator.” And he's reading about cabernets and Bordeaux that are intended to be laid down for 10, 15, 20 years.  Futures.  He clearly has no intention of leaving anytime soon.  Cancer stalker has moved in. 

Yes, I think my cancer is male. He quickly moved on from my right breast and is exploring other areas of my body.  He is heading south--not towards my brain.  But he isn’t terribly savvy because he hasn’t gotten to the good body parts yet.  The task ahead is to keep him from going there.

So, my cancer has been detected in 4 sites: lymph nodes under my right arm (original surgery site), my neck, under my breast bone, and in my retroperitoneum (aren't you impressed I know that word!), which is inside my backbone.  Yes, I still have a backbone and it is strong!

Alas, the cancer spreading means that I am stage IV, which sounds scary and awful--but the good news is that I’m the earliest stage 4 my wonder oncologist, Dr. S, has ever seen. And he is brilliant, has seen hundreds (thousands?) of patients, and is far more interesting than his generic-sounding name.  So don’t worry my friends, I am in excellent hands, and it is anticipated that I will live for many years, albeit as a cancer patient.  It’s not what I wanted or planned on, but it’s what I've got. Everybody has something, right? And we don’t always get to choose.

  

I'll leave it at this for now.  There will be much more to follow.  I always did get in trouble for talking too much in school. 

  

Sandi