"Seems like the days turn into weeks and they turn into months, and before you know it, the years fly by. After having no evidence of disease (NED) for a full year, the cancer came back in full force. The focus this time, however, was one I was dreading from the time I was diagnosed. The locations were my lungs--both of them."
Since my brother Jim passed away from terminal lung cancer, my fear of losing my life to the same type of cancer, though I know this is a silly thing to think of--but I remember how it was...that last month when he lived with us while we did hospice care for him. Oh, if I had known how bad it was at that time, I would have insisted that he stay with us months earlier. But then, we are talking about my brother. Nevertheless, I will always cherish the little time we were able to spend together. I have some pictures of him near the end, and seeing them always makes me cry. It just doesn't seem like the same person, so I choose to remember him as he lived--he could be loud, opinionated and gruff, but inside there was this caring, protective big-brother side that not many people saw except his siblings and family. I know that, as he became worse, his one wish was that he was with family when it came time to go. He was at our home with family, and I am so thankful that we were at least able to do that for him. Nevertheless, I digress.
When I saw my oncologist, Dr. D, for my three-month review after my scheduled CT scan and bloodwork (I was so excited that I could go three months without seeing him!) he immediately sat me down and told me there were some issues. My heart sank as soon as he told me where the spots were. It was at that point, once again that I realized just how thankful I was for my husband and my faith. I knew I would need both if I were to get through this journey. When my oncologist made arrangements to enter the hospital for a thoracotomy for my right lung, and cryosurgery for my left lung, I prayed for strength and healing. The Lord has always been with me, and I knew that I needed to keep my faith strong, and my husband was insistent on being involved through every step--once again. At around the same time I was being scheduled for my surgeries there was a trial going on through Mayo to register how effective cryosurgery was, and the surgery and aftercare would be paid for by the research group. The researcher, along with the doctor, approached me about being involved in the study and I readily accepted. Once I healed from the thoracotomy, my cryosurgery was scheduled. The thoracotomy was brutal, and the healing seemed to take a very long time, nevertheless I was excited to get the cryosurgery done. I wasn't sure what to expect after the cryosurgery, but I was able to leave the hospital the very next day, and for several months the doctors and researchers called in to check on me. After the surgery there was another round of chemotherapy to go through, but I knew what that was like, so I was ready
Since I was still on oxygen at home, I felt excited about the prospect of possibly being NED and becoming healthy enough to try to work again--even part time. Slowly, but surely, I was feeling better and better, and finally in November of 2014, I decided to look for a part time position at a local retail chain, and was immediately asked if I'd like to take the Customer Service Manager position instead of being a cashier. After reading what the position entailed, I realized doing this would be a healthy way for me to exercise, as well as to interact with others. This gave me a feeling of purpose, and being able to interact with others and share my faith through my actions was, and still is, rewarding.
For the first month, the cancer did not seem like an issue, and at that point my chemotherapy was almost finished. However, because of the harsh winter, severe colds and pneumonia plagued me, and because I was also doing chemotherapy, my immune systems were compromised. I ended up in the hospital emergency room a few times for severe respiratory distress, as well as pneumonia. About six months later, my oncologist (who, by sheer coincidence, had also been my brothers oncologist), retired. This left me with an empty feeling--similar to being on a high wire with no safety net. My thoughts turned once again to my Lord, and I knew I needed to ask for strength to continue to fight this deadly disease and the after-effects. My husband, brothers, and parents were all there to help me through, and when they could, my children were there to comfort me--even if it was a phone call. I knew they had my prayers.
When I was introduced to my next oncologist, (we'll call him Dr. G), it took me some time to get used to him. Though he was an excellent doctor, he was much younger and more direct than the gentle, fatherly attitude of Dr D. After we became used to each other, the visits became friendlier and he began to understand my underlying fear of any lung conditions. Each time my CT came back, his news was hopeful, at best. There were still spots, and some were growing larger, but very slowly, and at the time it was decided to start me up again on chemotherapy because surgery was out of the question, due to the location of the spots. I started with something different--chemotherapy pills. I was excited--no going to the hospital for three-hour visits and taking my bag home for three days. While initially it sounded enticing, the reality was that for two weeks I would take the pills, morning and night, and then I would be off of them for two weeks. The effects of the pills were the same, if not worse, than what I experienced while on infusion therapy. It seemed as if, just when I was recovering from the nausea and tiredness from the pills, it would be time again for me to take the pills. Finally, after enduring this for several months, I asked Dr. G if I could finish the treatments out in Infusion Therapy at the clinic instead. My symptoms were becoming more and more noticeable to others, and he noticed my decline as well, so it was mutually agreed that finishing up at the clinic would be easier on me. During this time I met some ladies who had strong faith, and I was able to connect with a close friend from childhood that I stayed connected with, and she and I prayed together many times. Another close childhood friend, who feels more like a sister to me, was also there (once again), to pray and to bring me to tears with her humour.
After my chemotherapy was finished, we saw very few spots, and the ones we saw were almost impossible to see without a close-up from the CT scan. I was hopeful for the first time in many months. I was given a cautiously positive outlook. Even so, I knew that, for me, there would be many more months of careful watching and checking my CEA levels, as well as numerous CT scans.
My second oncologist also left the area, and I was introduced to my third (and I am hoping last) oncologist--Dr H. He was a mixture of Dr. G and Dr D--the gentle, caring nature of Dr D and the efficient, let's get this done aura of Dr G. The last CT scan has some irregularities and Dr H did not like what he was seeing, so he set me up for a PET scan. When I received the results, he told me there were four areas to watch, though for now, nothing could be done. In four weeks, I return once again to see if there are any changes in my CEA numbers (which have been consistently high but steady) or if the spots have become larger.
I realize once again that the only thing I can do in situations like this is to put my faith and trust in the Lord. Without Him I would not be alive to talk about any of this, and sometimes that knowledge overwhelms me. Given this information, I know that by sharing my faith and hope with others and continuing to be positive could help someone else who is struggling, and I believe that the good Lord is giving me ways to use my experience. While I haven't been able to do much more than work and rest, occasionally I have times when we can go visit my parents, my children, and even have them over. I was able to see my youngest granddaughter, Isa, and it felt as if God gave me this gift of time for a reason. It is up to me not to squander it.
Blessings to you all,
expect after
