Feelin' Groovy

So: Today.

I feel really great. And that's strange to me. But, yeah. I feel kind of perky and happy and at ease with life. Oh, I know cancer is standing right behind me breathing down my neck. Jerk. But today, ignoring its threats seems as easy as a summer daydream. I am choosing not to question why I feel so... normal. Especially since I'm having gamma knife tomorrow.

Doo-too-doo! Ignoring cancer.



News
Today USA Today tells us about a study that replaced barium (which is just F-ing disgusting) with whole milk (which is yummy when mixed with Quik) as a contrast for X-rays. Turns out the radiologists couldn't tell who drank what by looking at the images. This article (scroll down) and a gallon of Quik-infused milk are coming with me to my next set of CTs.


Stuff
During Memorial Day weekend, My Love catapulted me off the back of a jet ski. After skipping across the surface of the lake, rapidly decreasing my velocity from 40+ mph to zero mph in about three seconds, I bobbed gasping to the surface minus my eyeglasses.

So. I purchased a new pair yesterday. I think they are rather rock-and-roll. But, I fear that they may appear to some (who are less fashion forward than I) as belonging to a middle-aged woman who feels the need to make a statement with her eye wear as she feeds her many cats and curses men under her breath. Whatcha think?

Finally, thanks to Peter for this awesome little time waster. IT EVEN MAKEZ TALKIN BOUT CANCR KIND OV FUN AN SILLY.

How Am I Feeling? However Will Make You Happiest

I do it all the time.
I do it here, which is stupid frustrating and makes my writing weak and deceptive. It keeps me from posting.
It's not full on lying, really. But, if I crumble, it will scare people. People other than me. And I can't have that. I can't cause more pain than I already do. So, yeah, I'm doing just fine.

Lots on My Mind. And Shoulders.

I've been making appointments and chasing down medical coordinators since I got my scans back. The urgency I feel appears to be important only to me. I have managed to get my gamma knife procedure booked and I will be getting my brain fried on Thursday. While the fentanyl lollipop sounds fun, it's not enough to distract me from the fact that the titanium frame will be screwed onto my head for a third time.

On the supraclavicular node front, an appointment for CyberKnife therapy remains out of reach. I had an appointment with the radiologist, who said we could definitely hit the nodes. Since then, it has been in the hands of a single insurance coordinator, who is allegedly working on getting approval from my insurance company. I spoke to her this morning and she says she expects approval before the end of the week. That's over two weeks from when I had my appointment! And, once it comes through, I am going to have to schedule a CT and then wait a few days after that for them to map the procedure. This is taking entirely way too long. Makes me feel like taking some people to task.

So, to kill time, I've been reading lots cancer news to try and find those nuggets of hope that keep me thinking that someday there will be something for me. I liked this and found this interesting.

Oh, and on the Good Things list, I am adding:

• Team Hill turning in another fantastic 5k team effort. The Kid handily defended his title as top 11-and-under runner at the Run of the Mill.
• Fabulous weather for hanging out with friends and family eating brunch
• Warm breezes and the scent of peonies that made napping on the couch following the 5K and brunch extra delightful.
• Summer. (sigh...)

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.