No Break for Me

Wasn't it John Lennon who wrote, "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans"?

It may not have been Lennon who wrote those words, but they describe my life during the past couple of months all too well.

Anemia. Meltdowns. A doctor who fired me. A second cancer, melanoma. Problems with my younger son. Ongoing problems in the treatment room at my cancer center.

By the time I went to visit Dr. Livingston in Tucson back in mid-May, I was ready to refuse treatment, and just let things float for awhile. Because, as with so many people living with cancer, my problems were caused by the TREATMENT, not the cancer.

Dr. Livingston rode to my rescue, I thought, when he suggested that I could safely take several months off from treatment (Herceptin, Avastin, and oral Cytoxan, plus various drugs to control the side effects of treatment), as long as I was closely monitored by my new oncologist in Seattle.

I was dancing off the walls with joy. And of course I blogged about it.

A Break From Treatment

A Cancer-Free Month

Then, just a week or so ago, my right arm started hurting, and I began to wonder if I was going to get that break from treatment that I so desperately wanted, after all.

The Break That Wasn’t (Maybe)

After waffling for a few days, I bravely called Dr. Lee and admitted that my arm really did hurt, and it was getting worse, not better. So he scheduled me for an MRI yesterday morning, and between that time and my appointment today to get the results, I played "what if."

I figured that even if there was another tumor in my arm, we could treat it with radiation (a drag, because you have to go in every day. But I'm an old hand at radiation, I've done it three times now). And I could make a case for staying off the chemo for awhile longer, as long as my tumor markers stayed down.

Then I'd have a reasonable summer, even if I was tied to the cancer center by a 24-hour leash.

I also fantasized that I had just exaggerated the pain and there was really nothing very seriously wrong. Haven't I had enough? More than my share?

That, however, is not an argument that works with the cancer gods.

The answer, once I saw Dr. Lee, was weirder than I could have imagined. He showed me the MRIs, explained, and said, "I really have no idea what is going on."

Oh, boy. Not good.

The MRI shows edema, or swelling, in the MARROW of the upper arm bone, the entire length of the bone. And a couple of suspicious spots that might be cancer, but don't look like the other tumors I've had in my bones.

So. We looked at each other. I asked a few distracting questions about what I was looking at on the scan while I got my breath back. Dr. Lee suggested maybe a biopsy of the bone, but that's apparently a surgical procedure.

I could see where this was heading, and I wasn't liking it.

We talked a bit more and decided that I should have all the other scans (the ones I had so blithely scheduled for early July when I was planning to have a month off from cancer) ASAP. They are all scheduled for next Monday--one long day of scans. PET/CT and lots more MRIs.

He also wants me to see another doctor, one I know because I've written about him and his patients. A big guy in the bone cancer world. Waiting for the phone call about that appointment.

And of course I've e-mailed Dr. L in Tucson and asked him to check in with Dr. Lee.

So that's what's happening.

Note: If you are new to my blog, you may not realize that I am extremely sensitive about people giving me unwanted advice. Please do not e-mail me advice. I am not looking for medical advice.

Also, please be careful with the platitudes. Don't tell me you are sure everything will be fine. You don't know that and neither do I.

Messages of support and friendship are gratefully accepted.

@ Jeanne Sather 2007.

Comments

[Miranda]

I am so shocked by what you write, by the extend at which your life is not about caring for your health but caring for your sickness, that I would love to have an intelligent conversation with you about it. I could just write supportive messages, but you've got enough of that, so you just let me know whether you are up-to-it...if not I can surely understand, I wish you health, and luck, and lots of love

[Kate, England UK]

Hello to you all!
I have just come across your blog for the first time.
I am a year past my '3 months to a year to live' diagnosis and have just been dx with bone mets in my spine and lymph nodes showing signs of activity. I'm bummed out cause I thought i'd cracked it. After my last lot of chemo (cisplatin, epirubicin and capcitabine 6 cycles) which I finished in feb 07 i have been cancer free. I have just completed my 1st cycle of carboplatin and taxane - ouch, not nice. I'm only 31 now and really hope for a long life - any miracle stories out there to make me feel better.

I will keep you in my prayers of course.

Best wishes and kindest regards to you all
Katexxxx

[jeanne]

Kate--do you have metastatic breast cancer? And now mets to the bones?

I've had bone mets for six years, and I'm doing well. In pretty much continuous treatment, but my quality of life is good.

There are a number of women who read my blog who have lived longer than I with bone mets--nine years, some more than 10. Don't assume that because your cancer has metastasized that this is the end.

It is not the end.

[Kate, England UK]

They don't know where my primary cancer is, but one of the options is breast. I had secondaries to my ovaries last year and they thought that they had come from breat, lung, stomach or bowel. All are clear on exam and ct so it is a mystery and very frustrating. So the cancer has already metastasised and is doing so again to my bones and lymph.
Good news about the survivors - thank you!

[jeanne]

Kate--that is frustrating. I am so sorry.

But hang with us and you'll meet some pretty amazing people. Look for posts by Sara, Teri (the Cheeky Librarian), and Amorette, to name just a few of the great bloggers who post regularly to my blog.

Jeanne