aLive @ Stage 4!

Scanxiety is the anxiety that builds up before a medical test, and even more while awaiting the results of said test. Last Friday, I had a routine every-three-month CT scan, and a routine every-six-month bone scan. They're keeping an eye to make sure those pesky cancer cells don't get bigger and/or appear anywhere else. I haven't heard from my doctor, and I'm in the no-news-is-good-news camp. That being said, scanxiety is a very real thing. Until I hear good news from my doctor or see it on the report, there's always that little voice in the back of my head.... So yesterday while I was receiving my regular treatment, I asked the nurse to print out the reports for me.  Here's the bottom line: CT Scan results:   CT Scan results looking at the lung mets we're keeping an eye on: Bone Scan results: Needless to say, I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I read the reports.  I'm good for another three months.  😊

   People wonder why I'm a fan.  Why I watch the old series every Saturday night at 8:00pm.  Why I took her on our most recent family vacation (she was our version of Flat Stanley).  The short answer is that she reminds me to be strong. She reminds me to be strong, even when I want to throw in the towel. Every time I have to make multiple phone calls to try to schedule multiple appointments for the same day, which entails going to multiple departments within the hospital.   The other day I realized I could find my way from the Lombardi cancer center to the Bles Infusion center to Cardiology without looking at the directional signs on the wall or asking for help. Glad and sad about that at the same time. Every three weeks when I go for my IV infusion.  Every six weeks when that infusion is coupled with an appointment with my oncologist. Every evening at 7:00pm when my alarm goes off reminding me to take my daily medication. Each and ev...

Yesterday I saw someone I haven't seen since my diagnosis (and long hair). I was standing nearby while she chatted with someone else.  It was clear she didn't recognize me until I spoke to her.  She seemed glad to see me and asked how I was.  I explained, in the shortest version I can, that I'm "stable" and "no evidence of active disease" and will continue to be on treatment for the rest of my life.  When she asked, "How are you doing?" my answer was "Fine; I'm still alive!"  The look on her face....  I really need to remember that not everyone is comfortable with the jokes ... but it's not just that; sometimes I'm not joking but it comes out that way unintentionally. The other day I was checking out at the grocery store, and a prompt came up on the credit card scanner asking if I wanted to donate to cancer research.  I said, out loud, "No, I've already donated enough to cancer research."  Hahahaha!  I...

Hair.  It defines us, I think more than we realize.  We can change our look just by styling our hair differently.  Have it cut after wearing it long for a time, you look completely different.  Wear it short for a time, then let it grow, you look completely different.  Change the color, you look completely different.  Heck, you look different with or without bangs.  You wear it up when you dress up to go out.  You wear it down to be more casual.  You put it in a ponytail or under a ball cap when you don't want to deal with it.  I used to think of my hair as my best feature.  It was long, it was wavy.  It was curly when I was younger.   When I was little, my dad would sing, "I know a little girl, who has a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead."  When I was in high school, it would take me an hour to blow dry the curls out of my hair.  When I was in my early twenties, I learned to embrace the curls....

All of my treatments, tests, oncology, and cardiology appointments take place at Georgetown University Medical Center.  With no traffic, it usually takes about 40 minutes to get there from home.  In rush hour, it has taken up to two hours.  I try to consolidate my appointments in as few days as possible, because it can take so long to get there, and to minimize the number of days taken off from work.  I thought I'd share with you what a day looks like.  Actually, I'll illustrate "regular" days and "medical" days. A typical, "normal, every day" work day has me working at a high school as a teacher's aide.  I love it.  My co-workers, the students -- the day is never dull.  Most days are exhausting, sometimes quite entertaining; never dull.  :)   Before my treatments started a year ago, a normal day would consist of actually doing productive, "normal" things after work.  I would make dinner (most days), play with the d...

When I started seeing my cardiologist, she told me she wanted me to start walking.  Interval walking -- you know, walk for a time, walk faster for a few minutes, slow down, speed up, etc.  Either/or start walking up the stairs more.  Something to get my heart rate up.  So, I started walking up the stairs at home once or twice a day, in addition to walking down the stairs at work at least twice, and up them at least once, per day.  I'd have a good routine going, then I had surgery and stopped.  Started again, overdid it, stopped.  Started again, caught a cold, stopped.  Well, today I got on the treadmill.  Why the treadmill and not outside now that the weather has warmed up?  A few reasons:  It's raining, so that right there would do it.  The treadmill keeps me at a steady pace.  Also, I can track it, and hopefully see an improvement in time, distance, and speed as time goes on.  The treadmill has something I...

I've been looking forward to this day for a while now, just so I could write this "one year later" post.  I'm finding it, actually, difficult, but here goes. One year ago today, Jimmy and I sat in my surgeon's office and the world shifted.  I know that's an overused statement, but at that moment, I really felt something shift.  Emotionally, mentally, everything shifted.  At that time, we thought it was early Stage III.  We found out after the lung biopsy that it was, in fact, Stage IV.  I remember the day so clearly.  It was snowing, and everything was closed.  I was so glad that the doctor's office was open so we wouldn't have to wait any longer for the test results.  I remember pulling into the hospital parking lot and finding it mostly empty, except for a few cars and the plow.  The plow driver seemed none to happy to see another car in the lot, let me tell you.  ;) So, we got the news (I have a previous blog post talkin...

I've made a few posts on my facebook page with the tag #strongereveryday .  It's usually when I feel especially well, comparatively.  Sometimes it's when I walk up the stairs at work at least once, and/or down them at least three times.  I'm trying to build that up so I can go back to using the stairs all the time, as opposed to the elevator (to be honest with you, I'm more afraid of losing my balance on the way down than losing my breath on the way up).  Sometimes it's when I actually venture out of the house for something besides work or medical tests/treatments.  Those are the times I get to spend some fun times with my husband.  Sometimes its when I spend the time between work and dinner not napping .  Sometimes I'll spend that not napping window of time knitting, sometimes reading (when I'm too tired to knit, which is often), sometimes playing with the dog, and I'll confess, facebook games (Yahtzee and Inside Out are my go-tos these days, as we...

It's a good thing. Really.  I'd been thinking about it for awhile. In a few knitting facebook groups, people periodically post photos of their stashes (of yarn). Most of the comments on these photos are those of us with smaller stashes being envious. To have all of that yarn at your disposal, whenever a whim strikes -- wow. Sometimes it spurs a discussion -- to have a stash vs. buying for a specific project and actually using the yarn before buying more . I've always gone back and forth on this. Sometimes I would love a roomful of yarn. Sometimes I think, no matter how long I live, I would never use that much. With my Stage IV cancer diagnosis, I realize that I am not my lifetime going to use up all of the yarn I had already accumulated. Not that I was buying yarn whilly-nilly. Each skein of yarn was intended for a specific project. Some of the yarn was for shawls I had printed out patterns for. Some of the yarn had actually started to become some of these s...

In my post the other day ( It's Not All Pretty Pink Ribbons ), I mentioned the medications that I'm on now that chemo and surgery are over.  Not only was I a little remiss in my description (thank you, ladies, for pointing out my error), when I corrected it, it still seems a little fuzzy.  Let me try to clear it up here. In conjunction with my chemo medication, I was also given Herceptin (transtuzumab) and Perjeta (pertuzumab).  Now that chemo is over, I still am on Herceptin and Perjeta.  I will be taking these meds (every three weeks, via infusion) for the rest of my life, or until they stop working and we need to try something else.  Here's a good way of explaining what they do, from breastcancer.org : "Herceptin works by attaching itself to the HER2 receptors on the surface of breast cancer cells and blocking them from receiving growth signals. By blocking the signals, Herceptin can slow or stop the growth of the breast cancer." Also, from  bre...

Yesterday I had my regularly scheduled appointment with my oncologist, and maintenance infusion number 6.  It was an incredibly long day.  They always seem to be long and tiring, these appointment days.  My first appointment was at 9:30am, which means leaving the house at 7:30am to allow for traffic.  On a good day, not at rush hour, it should take under an hour to get to Georgetown from my house.  It has, though, taken two hours to get there, in bad rush hour traffic.  Yesterday, we (Jimmy, my wonderful  husband, drives me) left just before 7:30 and dropped our 14 year old son off at school on our way.  Traffic was normal for rush hour, and we parked at just about 9:00am.  They called me back right away, took vital signs as normal, then we wait.  Sometimes it's a short wait, sometimes it seems to take forever.  While we wait, we pass the time chatting and/or playing games on our phones.  Inevitably, my mind wa...

Here is the link to my caringbridge page on this subject:   It's Not All Pretty Pink Ribbons Click there and read that first, then come back here.  I have a few things to elaborate on. Let me start by saying, I love pink.  Someone gives me something pink, and to me it's a caring gesture; it shows that person cares about me.  I wear the necklaces and bracelets.  I use the coffee mugs and water bottles, and the badge holder.  I write in the journal with the pink pen.  My husband wears a pink shirt when he takes me to my medical appointments.  I use the shawl and the blankets.  The candle sits on my nightstand for when I'm feeling a little nauseous.  Whenever I use one of these items, I think of the person who gave them to me with warmth.  When I see someone out in public wearing a pink ribbon, there's an instant sense of comradery.  Most of the times, we stop and chat, tell our stories to each other. Breast cancer is portr...

A friend posed the question on her facebook page, asking if anyone had made a New Year's Resolution. I almost responded with, "To stay alive! ;)" but then remembered that not everyone would take it tongue in cheek. Some would chuckle (maybe her and some of our mutual friends), but I'm sure someone would say, "Holy Crap!  I can't believe she said that!"  So, I didn't post, not wanting to turn her uplifting post in to something morbid. This brings to mind a few things cancer patients (or any chronically ill person, really) struggle with/adjust to. Humor -- We have to have it. Sometimes we laugh at the most off the wall things. Sometimes people think, "Oh, my gosh, I can't believe he/she thinks that is in the least bit funny!" Sometimes we have to laugh about it, or we'll spend all of our time crying about it.  Here's an example of this that has nothing to do with my cancer:  When my sister died, we had gone through ye...

Take a look at January's calendar.  See how the 5th, 12th, 19th, and 26th are all lined up in a neat little column?  Get this -- My dad died on January 26, 2000 at the age of 68.  My mom died five years later, on January 12, 2005, also at the age of 68.  My sister died three years later (eight years after dad), on January 19, 2008.  See where I'm going here?  We really think my sister picked that day, exactly one week in between the two.  Since then, January 5th has been worrisome to me, but not like this year.  In addition to the dates, this year is eight years after my sister died.  That coupled with my diagnosis and, well ... I hope you don't think I'm off my rocker, but I was a little worried about yesterday.  I was feeling pretty well yesterday, so I wasn't overly worried, but it was still there, in the back of my mind.  So, I may die one year on January 5th, but this is not that year.  :) Superstitious?  Maybe....

The other title to the post could be "Stop Wishing Time Away!" "I can't wait until Friday!" "I can't wait until my birthday!" "I can't wait until Halloween!" "Christmas isn't here yet?!  Counting down the days!" Then there's the ball drop on New Year's Eve with the ten second countdown. We're constantly looking forward to the next event. Along the same vein, how often do we say things like, "One day, we'll...." "One day, we'll take that trip we've been wanting to take." "One day, we'll go visit those relatives/friends we've been meaning to see." "One day...." For me, the older I get, the faster time passes.  I sure wish it would slow down.  In 2015, my eldest son graduated from high school. As he walked down from the stage back to his seat, I saw the image of him from his preschool graduation juxtaposing on the real-life image, flas...