A shot in the @$$, fighting cancer one cheek at a time

  Today I had another appointment with my medical oncologist, Dr. Smith.  He gave me my prescription for Letrozole and said start taking it right away.  Dr. Smith also said he wanted to try to shrink the tumors by giving me shots of Faslodex, one shot in each buttock, at first every two weeks, then monthly. 

  I asked when we could start the shots, and he said how about today. I said "Let's do it. If I have to shell out my copay, let's get the most out of these appointments!"

 Minutes later, a nurse came in to give me the shots. She told me to lean on the opposite leg when she gave each injection, to give more "cushion for the pushin'."  I said not to worry on the cushion front. She said that the "skinny girls" don't have anything to prevent it from hurting.  Silver Lining, anyone?

  Well it did hurt a little. But, I can get used to this.  Also, I felt like I was taking a positive step.

  I made an appointment for Friday January 31st for another set of shots. I took my Letrozole to get filled.  Things that made me happy today:

--The Letrozole cost me $8 (I was afraid of some exorbitant amount).

--Two good friends from work came to visit me this afternoon.

  As you can see, I had a lovely time with them.

--My cousin Jen called me today, and I don't get to talk to her all the time.  This is us on my Wedding Day:

--Friends of mine went to Philadelphia last weekend, and brought me my favorite cheese from DiBruno Brothers, Prima Donna.  I am home watching television and enjoying one of my favorite foods.

Happy Weekend, Everybody!

To Clinical Trial or not to Clinical Trial, Or I Am Not A Number

  Today started out lovely, peaceful and relaxing. I had nowhere to be until 2:00 for my haircut. I stayed in bed, listening to Howard Stern and reading the Washington Post. 

  At around 10:30, I received the call I had been waiting for. A nurse wanted to do a quick medical history (not always so quick with me) and see if I would qualify for a clinical trial. My wonderful medical oncologist Dr. Smith wants to put me on a drug called Letrozole to try to shrink the tumors in my liver. I've been not-so-patiently waiting for a call from the Clinical Trial, to start taking an experimental drug along with the Letrozole, that is supposed to enhance the positive effects of the Letrozole.

  After 40+ minutes of rehashing my ailments and my late mother's ailments, I was told they would be in touch if I was indeed a candidate for the study. The nurse was lovely, but spoke of additional tests before any pill would hit my mouth "Two Weeks, Three Weeks..."

  I had already been anxious about getting started on treatment. My January 10th oophorectomy was already part of my treatment, and supposed to help shrink the tumors. My tumor marker blood test, the one that jumped some 350 points to 400 (which is what led us to my diagnosis last month), has been nothing but going up since last month.  On January 3rd, the number jumped to 500. Yesterday, they told me the blood they took on the 14th was 619.  I seriously started to wonder if the cancer was totally overtaking my body. 

  Yesterday at 4:30, I decided to ask anyone that might still be in Dr. Smith's office how concerned I should be about the escalating numbers. I walked into the office and asked if anyone might still be in to answer my questions. Suzie, Dr. Smith's fantastic Head Nurse, came out to talk to me for at least ten minutes.  She told me I just had my surgery, and they weren't concerned about the numbers.  What would be alarming would be if the numbers doubled, and I was nowhere near that.  I left Dr. Smith's office feeling calm, and slept better last night than I had in ages. 

  This morning, after I said goodbye to the Clinical Trial nurse, I thought about a few things:

--the pace of the clinical trial was concerning me

--I hated the thought of additional tests at another hospital, and either not qualifying or ending up with the placebo.

--I have the utmost faith in my medical oncologist, and after my "drop-in" yesterday, I was touched by the kindness of his staff.

  The phone rang again and it was another nurse to schedule me for an appointment with the Clinical Trial. I thanked her but said I was no longer interested in participating in the Study. Then I called Dr. Smith's office to tell them I was not pursuing the study, and wanted to get started right away on the Letrozole. 

  Two hours later, Dr. Smith called and asked me what changed my mind. I told him the pace was bothering me, I didn't want to be a number, and if I had to make several trips to Georgetown, I would prefer a spin through Kate Spade, a cocktail, and to look at the Potomac. He said he was happy to treat me. I told him I was happy to have him treat me.

  Other things to make me happy today:

  I love my new haircut. Brenda at PR at Partners Mazza Gallerie is a joyful, super-talented bundle of creativity.

  My fellow Board Members of the Washington Area Concierge Association sent me and The Big Guy a delicious Pete's New Haven pie for dinner tonight.

  Today I have felt happy and more empowered than I have for a long time.

Take my ovary, please!

  So the day after tomorrow, I have to go back to Sibley Hospital for an outpatient surgery. They have to remove my right ovary and Fallopian tube.
  The left one was removed when I was 19 and diagnosed with clear cell ovarian cancer.  I begged my gynecologic oncologist at the time to "scoop me out completely" as I so eloquently put it.  He said that since I was "still of childbearing age," he couldn't do that. I remember telling him that I was already pretty sure I didn't want kids, that I just wanted to be alive for a long time. And even if I changed my mind, I had a feeling that my body just didn't respond well to ovulation, and I was sort of terrified of being pregnant.
  Fast-forward 19 years, and my breast cancer came back. It's funny, for the last three years I have been studying my skin around my "foobs" expecting the inflammatory breast cancer would only come right back in the same aggressive way.  I was completely unprepared for it to spread to my liver.
  Apparently we need to get the remaining ovary out of my body immediately as estrogen is the worst for my cancer.  No chemo needed at this point, I just have to start on a hormone therapy four days after my surgery. Anything we can do to shrink the tumors.  A few things to keep in mind:
--There is no cure for this, but it doesn't mean it is terminal. I see this as the "Wack-A-Mole" of cancer (my Medical Oncologist Dr. Smith liked that).  We may control it for a bit, for several years, "chronic and manageable" yadayadayada, then it may pop up in the liver again or somewhere else.
--I still don't want kids. I'm not mourning the loss of my ability to procreate. If anything, the silver lining to all this is no more periods.
--Right now, I am trying to stay positive and cram as much fun as possible into my days. Goals before I'm 40: I must see Italy, and the Baseball Hall of Fame.  There will be many more goals for each decade but those are my current ones.
  I'm also hoping this blog isn't always so "cancer-y" but that is what is going on right now in my life.