you inspire me

nothing can stop me... except a little blizzard :)

well, needless to say, day one of radiation didn't happen as planned on monday. my dad and i tried to beat the storm, getting into boston on sunday afternoon, only to find out sunday night that my treatment was cancelled. after a couple of nights at the hotel adjacent to dana farber, we came home with one treatment under my belt. now starts the trips to boston for radiation everyday (monday - friday) for the next several weeks. i've been told everything from 'expect radiation to hit you harder than chemo did' to 'radiation is a piece of cake after chemo'. i have a good feeling about this and am optimistic that the latter will be true.

the anticipated short term side effects include sore throat, dry mouth, changes in taste, skin irritation/burn, swelling, decreased blood count and, of course, my old friend fatigue. the long term side effects include thyroid dysfunction, dental cavities, heart disease, 'electric shock sensation on bending the neck' (!?) and secondary cancers. for those of you dealing with radiation on the horizon, you have reason to be hopeful that your list of side effects is likely a lot shorter than this; my set of radiation fields extends from the base of my teeth to the middle of my rib cage, apparently lengthening the list quite a bit. although the long term side effects worry me, my philosophy is to attack the devil i know, do everything i can to decrease my chances of meeting the devils i don't (yet) know and adjust the sails if they present themselves down the road. right now i'm thankful to just be able to see down the road!

the unveiling

after much thought and planning, i'm happy to share The FLY Foundation with you! i'm excited and grateful to have the opportunity to make a small difference in the lives of local young people who are struggling with the financial implications of a cancer diagnosis. you will certainly hear more from me once we have our first event planned this spring. great thanks to my fellow raytheon ninjas for selecting our non-profit for their annual charitable donation... what a way for us to get started!

no christmas lights here!

after my initial PET scan in july, i was told that my chest 'lit up like a christmas tree'. well, christmas tree no more! while my PET scan last week wasn't as clear of a slam dunk as my PET scan in october, it was still a clean report. one new node above my right lung was illuminated, but i was assured it was likely due to normal lymph activity associated with cold season, as opposed to cancerous activity. we'll get a second read from the dana farber crew next week.

i am now officially de-ported (thanks, martha!). the fact that i left the recovery room and walked directly into a plastic surgeon's office should tell you how amazing my port scar looks. thankfully, aesthetic concerns still reside at the bottom of my priority list right now.

while i've imposed my own assignments for these final two months out of work, including loads of exercise and cancer-fighting foods in an effort to make myself more alkaline, the only new assignment from my oncologist was to 'make sure i don't get pregnant for the next three years'. the bright side of this direction is that peter and i can plan to stay in our beloved condo for longer than we originally intended.

and, on that note, we received very exciting news that my brother and sister-in-law, tim and erica, are expecting a baby this summer!!! talk about efficient newlyweds... :)

actions speak louder than words

many of you have asked me what a port is, how it works, etc. so, i'm going to take one for the team (you know, the team with the big, shiny C on the jersey) and provide a moment of port education.

essentially, a little pocket was cut into my chest and this device about the diameter of a quarter was inserted. it will typically remain there for the duration of treatment and be accessed for chemo administration (the alternative to having a IV inserted in your arm/hand for each treatment). the line runs into the superior vena cava, just upstream of the right atrium of the heart. each time the port needs to be accessed, a needle is inserted in my chest (in the center of the port) providing access for both blood to be drawn and drugs to be injected. my port looks like this one but is purple instead of gray. how cute. :)

now that i'm done with chemo, what happens with this port? the cancer community recommends leaving it in for awhile 'if you're not in a rush to have it removed'. why, you ask (i did). 'just in case.' hmmmm. although they won't say it, i was quick to sense that 'just in case' was code for relapse, more chemo, etc, etc.

after giving it some serious thought, i decided that i am in a rush!  i'm in a rush to get myself back together and put this behind me. i think that if i'm working on believing with my whole heart and soul that this cancer won't be back, my actions better say so too. so... (drum roll)... tomorrow i'm having my port removed. although i'm not excited about any sort of surgery, this is the type that's a lot easier to swallow!

'hey eyebrows, guess what? chemo's over.'

today i am mourning the complete and sudden loss of my eyebrows. apparently they didn't receive this important message yet. the sparse brows i had left literally wiped off my face yesterday on my bath towel. bummer. i actually took this a lot harder than i did parting with my head hair... perhaps due to the shock of it all or the delayed timing (i thought we were done with the hair loss bit), but most likely because i look a lot scarier without eyebrows than i do without hair. oh well. another day, another chemo casualty. it really is the gift that keeps on giving. while i am a proponent of shading in light brows, i'm not the type to draw on an eyebrow where one doesn't exist. so, this post is mostly a warning to you, my friends and family, that i will look a little creepy for awhile. but this, too, shall pass... right? i sure hope so.

optimism in the most unexpected places

this time last year i bought tickets to the 2010 army-navy game for peter's birthday. we took the quick flight to philly on friday for 'america's game'. despite a few twists in the road (we're getting good at those), we had a great weekend celebrating the big 3-1!

when i wasn't experiencing the post-chemo surge of energy i expected recently, i started to suspect that my immune system's still shot... now i'm pretty much convinced. after an eye infection last week (one of several reasons i'm wishing my eyebrows would fill back in!), i managed to catch some sort of nasty stomach virus during our weekend trip. unfortunately, we had to miss our flight back and stay an extra night until i could (literally) stomach a trip through the airport and friendly sky. despite my good intentions, wearing a mask on the airplane didn't make me impervious to all germs a weekend away would introduce. lesson learned.

i'm choosing to believe it was no coincidence that i sat behind this navy fan at the game. while my illness this weekend caused my PET scan results appointment to be postponed, i will show up on thursday 'expecting to win'. :)

my quest to be unremarkable

we spend our whole lives striving to produce the best work products, attain the best exam scores, be the best friends, employees, leaders, family members we can... perhaps in hopes of being classified as 'remarkable'. i quickly learned that, when it comes to cancer, this is a label you definitely don't want to receive! upon review of my last PET scan results in october, confusing statements like 'this scan doesn't impress me' and 'there's nothing remarkable about these images' left me initially wondering what i had just heard... was that good or bad news? i head back today for another restaging PET scan and, when i meet with my oncologist on monday to review the results, i'm hoping to learn that i am completely unremarkable and haven't impressed her one single bit. :)

my radiation planning appointment last week was partially successful. i came home with six tattoos (which are really nothing more than large, navy blue freckles) to align me for the fields they plan to radiate in my chest/neck. when i return on the 27th, i'll receive six more tattoos for the controversial 'cardiac node' at the base of my heart. although they will be with me forever, i certainly have far worse scars at this point... and i assure you that after a bone marrow biopsy, tattoos tickle.

i opted to receive the daily radiation at dana farber / brigham & women's in boston and am happy to be avoiding an extended stay in houston. the waiting room at the brigham offers live harp music, along with a broad array of snacks. after that shameless plug, many of you kindly offered to make the drive with me on a day or two. if your offers still stand, there are a couple of weeks in january that i'm trying to fill with drivers!

'beating cancer'

when i think of things i've hoped to accomplish in my life, beating cancer has certainly never been one of them. then again, maybe none of us really beat cancer. maybe science beats cancer. maybe our compassionate oncologists beat cancer. maybe drugs, photons and money beat cancer. maybe the researchers who lock up office doors at the end of a solid day's work, feeling disconnected from the human side of medicine, are really the ones who beat cancer.

maybe all we do is wait. we wait for the calendar page to turn. we wait to tick that list of dreaded treatments off our to-do lists. we wait to be called into an exam room and for our chemo IVs to finish. we wait for the day we can pass a mirror and actually recognize ourselves again. we wait to hear definitively that we're done waiting, all while the medical world gets better at beating cancer for the next person to walk in our shoes.

we become adept at waiting and, in the process, at quieting our minds, at appreciating the little things, at living in the moment. maybe when beating cancer becomes an accomplishment that sits firmly in the past tense, the rest of our lives will be better for it... happier, richer, funnier, more beautiful. it's hard to imagine life getting any better than it was B.C. (before cancer) but perhaps that will be the best side effect of all. :)