Head Adjustment Therapy: Special Session

This special session of Head Adjustment Therapy is brought to you in support of sister #3, who learned today that she, like me, has a BRCA1 mutation.

This one usually does the trick. Please rock out as only the hopeful can.

Head Adjustment Therapy

... and repeat.

... and a Partridge in a Pear Tree

On the 6th day of May, my oncologist advised me of:

• Two cancerous supraclavicular nodes
• One brain met, and
• one met in my le-e-eft lung

Not what I wanted to hear. Nope. Not. At. All.

In fact, I am still reeling from this blow. This shit is on the move. Now I am scrambling to get in touch with my neurologist to set up another gamma knife procedure ASAP to blast the brain met, and the CyberKnife radiologist who shot my pulmonary nodes to try and get him to hit my supraclavicular nodes and lung met.

All this, of course, while continuing to work. Piece of cake. It's what I do. It's all part of my strategic approach to living with my disease. I call it Distraction and Denial. (Sounds a bit like it could be a George Bush strategy, doesn't it?)

My chemotherapy will also be changing. Avastin will stay on the menu but Abraxane will be replaced with Ixempra. It's approved specifically for use in metastatic breast cancer patients who have failed multiple other therapies. (Hey! That's me!)

I did a little digging on the drug, which was approved just last year, and am irked to find that it requires a three hour infusion. Three hours! That does not include the premeds (about a half hour), the Avastin (half hour) and possibly IV Ig (one-and-a-half hours). I'll be lucky to get into work around 3 p.m. That should fly.

This crap is really scaring me now. It's taking up way too much time to try and manage and my failure of treatments is coming faster than in the past. Not to mention the ITP is a challenge to work around and probably disqualifies me from some therapies. It also will likely make a consistent, effective treatment schedule a challenge to maintain. No, I am not liking this at all.

As if this isn't enough to rock my brain, I also learned that I have a BRCA 1 mutation. Know what that means? This shit is genetic! I am among the 20 percent of patients whose breast cancers are inherited! This particular mutation increases your chance of developing breast cancer by up to 87%, and ovarian cancer by 44%, by the age of 70. Aren't those just stunning numbers? I mean, cripes, was I seriously going to get away with living most of my live disease-free with odds like that?

Thing is, though, I am not mad about it. I'm honestly a bit relieved. This means that I didn't do (or not do) a damn thing to bring this on. It's not my overindulgence in french fries. It's not my regular imbibing of cabernet. It's not that I didn't exercise enough. This crap was gunning for me just because I exist. It truly is no one's fault.

Unfortunately, this news has also caused my family to flip out and is sending my sisters on missions to determine their own genetic status. Fantastic. Once they find out that they do, or do not, carry the mutation, then what? There's nothing they can do. Oh, sure, prophylactic mastectomy and oophorectomy. That's a bit radical in my opinion. I think it'll just add to any baseline worries they already have. It could, conceivably, get them quicker and more serious attention should they discover a lump. But geez. I don't want anyone carrying a heavier psychological burden than they already are.

So my guilt continues. I'm causing emotional pain and worry. And I don't mean over me. I mean among my sisters for their own health and the ramifications on their families. But, I dunno, maybe... this knowledge will save their lives and the lives of our children. And their children...

I'm Waiting Here...

Things to do while waiting for your doctor to contact you about your scan results:

• Read favorite blogs
• Deplete the wine rack
• Think about what to get to restock the wine rack
• Annoy co-workers
• Take online surveys
• Buy nephew a birthday present
• Pretend you are not waiting to see if your cancer is quiet or on the move
• Laugh at the cats
• Act totally normal

Any other suggestions? I'm open.

Scan Day Request

Scans are tomorrow. Any and all strings that can be pulled with the universe are most welcome.
Seriously. Pull them. Now.

A Note from the Teacher

I've been watching the flowers awaken from their winter sabbatical and the trees explode like fireworks with full coats of colorful blossoms. I'm monitoring the progress of my lilacs and expect to be breathing their fragrance by the end of this weekend.

I've made a point of basking daily in the warmth of the Spring sun, and I happily attend morning and evening concerts by the songbirds in my yard.

I have even been the happy (yet groggy) recipient of cappuccinos made especially for me by The Kid on the past two Saturdays.

Despite all this, I still am not feeling like myself. Fatigue and body aches distract me from being fully engaged in the goodness around me. The thieves. It's frustrating.

But then I found an e-mail from The Kid's teacher in my inbox today, and this has my soul jumping with joy and pride. Want to join me? Here it is:

I meant to email you yesterday, but time just got away from me. We had
morning meeting outside with Mrs. Mason's class yesterday, who has many special needs children. The Kid was so kind and so compassionate toward them, and I was so proud of him, and wanted to share my observations with you.

He was greeted by a little girl, who can only make eye contact, and the
teacher with her said to the classes, "Whoever Natalie is looking at, gets
greeted." And right away, The Kid chimed in and said, "She is looking at me!" So, the teacher rolled the ball from Natalie's hands and The Kid greeted her.

Your son has a big, kind, and compassionate heart. He is a joy to have this year!

sigh

My Fiesty Friend Angie

My friend Angie had a really crappy Christmas. She spent it (and several weeks following) at MD Anderson after lung metastases knocked her on her ass. She learned during that time that she had also developed liver mets. This after spending months training and then completing a triathlon!

But, she is relentless in her pursuit of healing and her husband has been keeping those of us who love Ang up-to-date with a CarePage. This spirited girl is not to be held back and I love it! Here's the most recent update:

Angie is really in tune with her body. We got the
results back yesterday afternoon, and just like she predicted in the previous
post, the cancer is less active and in fewer spots. Dr. C and his nurse
practitioner Pam used the word "stable". We'll be getting copies of the full
reports as soon as they are finalized, but no surprises. She said last night
that her body just hasn't caught up with her mind on her body being healed. So,
we'll keep knowing that she's healed and that her body will follow.

Angie asked for a week off chemo yesterday, but Doc
said no. That's the right decision since her cancer is being kept in check. He
did promise to work on moving her to a different chemo in the future so her hair
can grow back, but he said that right now our biggest focus is to heal the
heart.

We just got back from a long weekend in Cancun. She's
looking great and her voice continues to get stronger.

Please send Angie any positive energy you can roust from the universe so she can continue beating the bejesus out of her disease.