Then I suddenly began throwing up and couldn’t stand upright. I drove to the oncologist for rehydration, and they wheeled me right over to the hospital and checked me in.

There is no cancer showing up in my body now, only in my cerebellum. It’s unusual enough that the med team was concerned it was a new kind of cancer. They are reluctant to go through healthy brain tissue to take a biopsy, but a biopsy is the only way they’ll know what kind of cancer it really is. Because of the risks to my motor skills (vroom vroom), they are going on the data they have, which is of course colon cancer.

It seems that a tumor or else some edemic necrotic tissue (from the gamma knife surgery last year) was pressing on my cerebellum, causing the symptoms. After four days in the hospital and a high dose of steroids to reduce the swelling, I was released. Hurray.

I’ll have another brain MRI this Thursday, then meet with a second neurosurgeon the following Tuesday. After that, I will have some kind of brain procedure (probably gamma knife again) to kill the tumors.

I’ll get some time to recover from that, which may involve some PT, and then I’ll be starting some chemo. It won’t be hard and heavy chemo, as I had before (twelve rounds every two weeks for six months). This time I’ll have a couple of rounds, then be allowed to recuperate, then a couple more rounds, etc. — more sporadic. The med team thinks the cancer is lurking in my body on a microscopic (i.e., non-tumor-size) level, and they want to go after it.

All this recent news made my husband, children, and me very somber at first. I wasn’t weepy, but of course none of this is good news.

But we are working through it and treasuring our time together, and now I am feeling remarkably peaceful about it all. I am painting, cooking new recipes, hiking, doing yoga again, enjoying my family and three loving pets, and I’m even doing a little knitting, now that our golden is a year old and not such a terror with yarn.

Regardless of our circumstances, there is always so much to be grateful for. I have wept many tears on our back patio, which is sort of a sanctuary for me. But recently just standing out there and taking some deep breaths of fresh, crisp winter air feels healing to me. It seems to clear my head and give me hope.

Unfortunately, sometimes people get cancer regardless of what they do or don’t do.

I have eaten organic blueberries for breakfast every morning for many, many years. I have eaten well in general — broccoli, cauliflower, very little red meat — and am at a good weight. Got my colonoscopy on time at age 50. Was diagnosed with stage I colon cancer at age 53. Was under an oncologist’s care for three years with regular scans and annual colonoscopies, then was diagnosed with stage IV three years after the first diagnosis. Two major surgeries, brain laser surgery, and twelve rounds of chemo in all.

Sometimes things just happen, no matter how careful you are. People in their late teens and early twenties get colon cancer. Young parents get colon cancer. Runners get colon cancer. Sometimes it happens.

I wonder what causes colon cancer to all different kinds of people. No one in my family has had colon cancer. I hope that medical researchers discover the cure someday for this disease — cancer — that brings so much heartache and loss to families.

I have been blessed to raise my children to adulthood, and I am not afraid of death except that I don’t want to leave my family. But things just happen, accidents happen, illnesses happen, and life can seem very fragile sometimes.

I am an ordained minister — have a seminary master’s degree — and, oddly, I believe there is usually no sense as to who gets cancer and who doesn’t. We are all in vulnerable bodies. We think we have control — eat this, don’t eat that, do this and not that — and a certain amount of that kind of thinking is good. We don’t want to ask for trouble in our bodies by neglecting our health.

But sometimes things just happen to our vulnerable bodies no matter how well we take care of ourselves, and all we can do is manage the best we can and pray for the grace to move through what lies ahead with dignity … and to be immensely grateful for family and friends and the moments that we do have.

Me on the trail

I have been enjoying my “time off” since chemo ended in early January, although I’m still receiving one drug every other week. It has taken my body quite a while to recover from the heavy-duty chemo; I’m not there yet and am learning to live with the chemo after-effects that still remain. If they improve with time, great. In the meantime, I will keep enjoying my life.

My hair grew in a tad curlier than before. The older I get, the curlier my hair gets. I can’t believe I used to have perfectly straight hair when I was young.

I have PET/CT scan scheduled for early September.

A friend and I drove to Rocky Mountain National Park yesterday to hike and sketch. We packed a lunch and art supplies – various kinds of colored pencils and watercolors – and hit the trail to two lakes. Yes, I made it, and with an 18-pound pack!

Nymph Lake

I will never carry so much again. All I really need for art is a sketchpad, an eraser, and a couple of pencils – no color. I do need my camera, always.

In addition to an excess of art supplies, I toted heavy lunch portions of way too many veggies and grapes, which are full of water. (And I also carried in [but not out] three trays of ice cubes to keep the food cool!) We had enough bottled water and didn’t need more water in the food.

But we made it and had such a wonderful time! One of the lakes had water lilies in it with yellow blooms. Gorgeous place.

]]> http://centerofthecircle.com/moments/take-a-hike.html/feed http://centerofthecircle.com/moments/tuesday.html http://centerofthecircle.com/moments/tuesday.html#comments Tue, 16 Jun 2009 17:24:11 +0000 admin http://centerofthecircle.com/?p=378 Today I have my infusion of my med and an appointment with my local (as in within a 15 minute drive) oncologist. I’m looking forward to talking with him. I have some deficits from the chemo that I suspect I’ll have to learn to live with. That’s okay.

I have had so much fun with art lately, trying different things. My art lesson was postponed until tomorrow, so I painted for quite a long time yesterday and would like to get back to it today before my appt.

The cat’s chin is on my arm, bobbing up and down, as I type. I type quickly, so sometimes his head is almost vibrating. Why does he enjoy that, I wonder?

Maybe it’s like babies falling asleep on car rides. The rhythmic activity is lulling.

Since the scanner cannot detect things that are smaller than 3 mm, one of my oncologists wanted to go after the cancer on a microscopic level. So I now receive Avastin every other week in the chemo room for half an hour.

Avastin cuts off the blood supply to any cancer cells that may be lurking about so they can’t form a blood system and grow into a tumor. My oncologists got on the phone with each other, and they are both in agreement about this treatment.

I don’t seem to have any side effects from it, and I’m glad my oncologists are treating the cancer aggressively, because colon cancer can be persistent.

My biggest challenge right now is fatigue and neuropathy, which has numbed my feet to the ankle and all my fingers. It’s difficult to type – I’ve never made so many mistakes before! And walking must be done with care because it’s like walking with feet that are asleep.

But the neuropathy should recede slowly this coming year. In the meantime, I’m starting two yoga classes a week, hitting the gym, continuing art, and trying not to let the neuropathy interfere with my daily activities.

Anyway, I’m grateful for this turn of events. Three rounds of chemo down, nine to go.

During my first week, I threw up constantly and couldn’t even keep a sip of liquid down. When I began throwing up in the oncology office, the chemo nurse whisked me back to an easy chair and began an IV infusion. I went in for another infusion the next day.

Two days later, I was in the hospital (on a Sunday morning) for a third infusion, and I was able to take my first food — a bit of mashed potatoes.

Well, this non-stop throwing up and extreme dehydration is definitely not going to work for 24 weeks of chemo. My oncologist plans to reduce one chemo drug a bit and change all of my nausea meds for the second round. We’ll see how it goes.

I have not been able to go near the computer or do anything that requires attention. Mostly I have been curled up on the sofa in fetal position for two weeks. Hope these new meds are effective.