peace and love,
nan

MY SCAN SHOWED A NORMAL LUNG!!!!!!!!!!!!

I can hardly believe it! I was asked by the social worker what I planned to do to celebrate and thought about that as I drove home. I decided I’d either buy a new computer or get a tattoo–or, maybe, both! Anybody want to vote on which is the best celebration for me?

I feel blessed and loved–blessed with good doctors/nurses/treatment and loved by you. Many thanks and more later….

love,  nan

Following my last chemotherapy–my very last!–I had a rough time with great fatigue and feeling just plain crummy. That lasted almost three weeks and, toward the end of that time, I went to the cancer center to be hydrated, hoping that would help me feel better, as it had at an earlier time. An alert nurse got permission from my doctor to test my blood. My white count was critically low and that was the cause of the fatigue and feeling crummy. There’s little that can be done other than to beef up good nutrition and rest. I did both and I am now feeling better. What I want, however, is to feel good!

It had been made clear to me in the beginning of my treatment that one possibility after chemotherapy and radiation therapy was that I might be a candidate for cranial prophylactic irradiation. That would happen only if the results of the other treatments were positive. It would kill off any undetected cancer present in the brain and prevent metastasis to the brain. Chemotherapy and radiation to the lung have been positive–the tumors have shrunk so much that some consider me in remission–yeah!–so, the question was put to me as to whether or not I wanted the brain irradiation. My first response was “yes,” without much thought.

Then I began to think about the possible consequences of having my brain–that with which I think–irradiated. I began to do some research on the web and discovered some possible problems that concerned me. And, my cousin called with news that a friend of his brother-in-law had had brain radiation and had suffered cognitive loss as a consequence. I did not want that. One article I read said that it was contraindicated in the elderly, and I certainly qualify for that! A result of my gathering information led me to question my earlier decision. My radiation oncologist, a fine doctor, was willing to make an appointment just to discuss my concerns.

The doctor was able to point out that some of the negative data I had collected were outdated and changes had been made in the procedure to compensate for the problems. He went over the typically positive results, including a possible long-term remission. (He used the word “cure,” but I know that’s not a popular word in the world of cancer treatment.)

Following my conversation with the radiation oncologist, I walked down the hall  to talk with the social worker about the same issue. She pointed out that I was concerned about my cognitive functioning and, if the cancer metastasized to the brain, my cognition would truly suffer. It was also likely that I would not be able to stay home alone, but would need to be in a nursing home. I want to avoid a nursing home at all costs–don’t we all?

I made a decision. I will have the CPI (cranial prophylactic irradiation). The radiation oncologist agreed that I could start after Christmas, but not as late as the first of January. I will have the preparatory work done–which includes having a mask made and paper work–on December 14 and begin the CPI on December 27. It’s a decision I’m not fully comfortable with, but which makes sense when I look at the statistics and consider the alternatives.

love,
nan

peace and love,
nan

On December 12, I go back for a CT scan and then see the oncologist the next day. On December 14, I will be fitted with a mask for the 15 radiations to the brain, but don’t know exactly when that will begin.

Though the treatment journey isn’t complete, the two major aspects of it are: radiation to the lung and chemotherapy. I feel blessed to have had such good care and know that will continue.

Just a few short months ago, I was facing death in the near future. Now I am facing life for an unknown future, but there is a significant difference. Now I feel able to consider a future whereas, facing death, I was able only to consider how to prepare for it. Now I can buy fascinating rainbow sneakers–that have been a big hit–and consider what it might be that I will do next summer or fall. Among those things are to fulfill some of the things on my bucket list–because I want to, not because I have to!

Thank you for sharing this journey with me!

peace and love,
nan

peace and love,
nan

I wore my rainbow shoes today and wowed those at the cancer center–I expect a rush of people wanting to buy the shoes. Yet, some are hesitant–seeing them as a little too much. Ah, but what smiles they bring to peoples’ faces–that makes them gift!

The other big event today was a surprise gifting to the marvelous social worker at the cancer center. Each of us can tell at least one story of how very much she has helped us and we wanted to show our appreciation with something concrete. Something that would last as a reminder of the esteem in which we hold her. She was surprised and pleased and it was a fine gathering.

All in all, a stellar day!

love,
nan

About a month after my last chemo treatment, I will have 15 radiations to my brain. That’s a little scary, but it’s been explained to me as most important since the favorite place for this cancer to migrate is the brain. There’s no sign of cancer in my brain now, but scans are not perfect and there might be some hiding from detection. In addition, the radiation is supposed to be prophylactic. This will delay the re-growth of my hair, but I’ve become used to my bald head–on which a number of people have bestowed compliments! It will become more problematic as the cold weather descends, but I do have a grand selection of hats.

I have started to celebrate the news of a remission (whatever word the doctors use), by first getting a glazed doughnut and then ordering a pair of rainbow colored New Balance running shoes. I don’t run, but I figure I can walk in them and wow people even more than my orange shoes do–great to help people smile! I don’t know what’s next in the celebratory line, but, perhaps a new computer since mine is acting up.

The other news of a health nature is that I am now on oxygen most of the time. The pulmonary-cancer doctor had me tested and my oxygen level fell to an unacceptable level–hence the oxygen. I’m getting used to having almost 50 feet of tubing following me around the house–except when it gets hooked up on something and I have to backtrack and free it! It’s obviously helping, so I’m willing to put up with the inconvenience. I have to admit that I’ve not yet worn it outside the house and need to do that–especially when doing things like grocery shopping. A little more courage and I’ll be able to use the portable tank when I’m out.

May there be things in your life to celebrate!!

peace and love,
nan

love,
nan