Reality Bites

Here’s a bit from a conversation my oncologist and I had last week:

Me: “Some people have been asking how much longer I’ll be on chemotherapy. I know it’ll be awhile, but can I tell them anything more specific?”

Sam: “Well, these people need to realize you have one of the most aggressive cancers I’ve ever seen” (he sounded a bit frustrated with you people)

Me: “Am I going to make it to remission?”

Sam: “No.”

…No. No hesitation, no beating around the bush, just a direct and definite “No.” Which I had kind of expected, or at least something similar, after seeing how my tumors behaved when I was off chemo for my surgery last November. I asked if it was time to sell my house and re-home my dog and all that other unpleasant stuff and he said no, but it is time to start looking at everything I do to make sure I have no regrets. So that’s weird. And it’s difficult to have that kind of talk and still burst out of the doctor’s office ready to carpe diem with a vengeance. I’ve been in one of those not-returning-emails/calls/text messages/Facebooks places for a few days. I don’t really want a lot of trivial distractions when I’ve got so much to process. Even if it’s not an impending thing, at least it’s official now.

And yes, I did notice that I am avoiding some heavy words.

So again, we have changed my treatment course. The goal now is to make sure my quality of life isn’t completely hampered by the side effects of chemo or radiation, so I’m just on two drugs now. The infamous Avastin *guitar solo* and a newer drug that behaves kind of like Avastin called Erbitux. It’s the drug that landed Martha Stewart in the hoosegow. The only real side effect from Avastin was bloody noses, and some of you probably witnessed my paranoia every time my nose would run-omg, is it regular snot or do I look like that one Andrew WK album cover??? Erbitux’s side effect is a lovely rash that will take over my face and upper body and make me look like the worst of the “before” shots on Proactiv infomercials. Which figures; just when I get myself ready for bikini season (minus a few gnarly scars), I’m destined for a face fit for a Burka. Suddenly Seattle’s lack of a 2011 summer don’t seem so bad. And I’m beginning to get a bit skeptical of this advice, but I’m told that a bad rash is an indication the drug will work. So I’ve spent the last week dreading its arrival, yet panicked that it hadn’t shown up yet. I woke up a little red, zitty and itchy today, so I think I can finally relax/freak out.

I’ve been reminding myself of my very first appointment at SCCA, when Deb told me about an upcoming memorial service for their favorite patient who had recently died of pancreatic cancer. I told her I wasn’t ready to hear about patients who didn’t “win”, but she told me when this woman first came to see them, she had been told she had another 3 months, 6 tops. She made it another 3 years. I hope my new regimen can outsmart this cancer at least that long, but we’ll see I guess.

STD!

Settle down, it’s an acronym for Short Term Disability.

Turns out radiation kicked my ASS. I ended up going to the ER for a rapid heart rate and didn’t get out for three days. First the doctors suspected a pulmonary embolism, then the next day they were worried about internal bleeding. This resulted in two CT scans within 24 hours (at 2AM and 3AM respectively), numerous blood tests and a couple of blood transfusions. Ever since my radiation treatment I’ve been tired and in some sort of pain. And every time I thought it was getting better, something new would pop up. It was getting frustrating, HOWEVER, as my oncologist said, if the tumors are breaking down and dying, it’s not going to feel pleasant. Based on how I’ve felt since radiation, it must be working. Really really working.

I went in for chemo last week and my RN said “Well, your labs all look great, but if you don’t feel well, I don’t want to give you chemo.” “Balderdash! Give me the chemo!” I cried. I really regretted that two days later when I hobbled, hunched over, back into her office for an “emergency” appointment. More blood tests with bonus urine tests. More missed work days. She asked what I was taking for the pain and I whimpered “nothing”. Once again I realized I have lots of medication at my disposal, and I should TAKE it. My love/hate affair with Percocet is back in the lust category (responsible lust, of course).

So with all I went through and am still trying to get past with that radiation treatment, and with one more still to go, my time away from the office was getting embarrassing. But should I really be embarrassed?? I have mother. effing. cancer. And I’ve been dragging my ass to that office on days when I really should be in bed. My oncologist is always telling me to work less. Do I really need to keep being a tough guy? Will staying at my desk until 5 make the tumors go away? I have always said a lot of my treatment side effects rival those of pregnant women, so why not take maternity leave? It’s on, and coincidentally my first day of Short Term Disability falls on my one year anniversary of being diagnosed.

Sara's Favorite Things

Some work buddies and I went out for my STD Send Off Extravaganza today. The restaurant sold Ding Dongs for dessert which I think was uber appropriate. I bought a round for everyone and had quite the Oprah moment throwing them around the table screaming “YOU get a Ding Dong! And YOU get a Ding Dong!” Dedo even did the Oprah Ugly Cry, but he’s like that with food.

Now it’s off to get better, schedule the other half of my liver, recover from that, then get strong and get back to my chemo loving self. And my oncologist even said we may be close to the point where we start removing drugs from my chemo cocktail, which would be huge. I know, leaves of absence and short term disabilities and cancer usually mean bad things, but as usual I’m being unconventional.

PS if you use my work email address to get ahold of me, don’t do that for awhile.

Later haters! If anyone finds those contracts I was supposed to leave on Tina's desk, let me know...