Moving on

Wow!  I can’t believe it’s about 20 months since my last entry. I guess I can blame COVID for putting me into a state of suspended animation. We’ve all used that excuse, haven’t we?  But, there’s nothing like wanting to shout the good news from the mountain top to bring you back to living in the real world. 

Yesterday, I got my latest PET scan results, and I remain cancer-free!  I see my gynecological oncologist in two days to go over the results together - for the last time. More on that in a second. 

Through some sort of failed negotiations between our insurance company and my husband’s employer, the Northside Hospital System is no longer a part of our health insurance coverage. Since 2012, I’ve received all my oncologic care from the Northside network, probably the most robust gynecological oncology program in the state of Georgia. So, I’ve got to find a new oncologist, a new thoracic surgeon, a new radiation oncologist, and a new infusion center. I’m sure my current oncologist will have some suggestions for me, but I’m devastated nonetheless. Northside has saved my life at least three times. Going somewhere else is just unthinkable. 

But, I will persist. I will find what I need. Right now, however, it seems an impossible task. 

Thank goodness I’ve got a clean bill of health at the moment, so I won’t have to rush to find my new oncologist. I’ll have time to do my research and come up with an alternative that will be receptive to my myriad of questions at each encounter. 

So, I celebrate, albeit with a slightly heavy heart. Good bye, Northside. You’ve been very good to me. 

Happy New Year!

There are two ways of spreading light — to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.

— Edith Wharton 

New Years Greetings to All!

I rang in the new year by going to sleep about 10:30 on New Year’s Eve.  Just didn’t have it in me to stay up for the festivities.  That’s okay.  I’m glad the new year has arrived, so far with good news.  I had my check up with my oncologist on Friday, and my physical exam was good.  I’m scheduled for my next PET/CT scan in late March, with a follow up appointment with my oncologist two weeks afterward.

Though perhaps the best news is I’ve begun volunteering with a local food pantry, two days a week, for a four-hour shift each day.  I’ve been set to the task of answering the incoming phone calls for the organization, which is much more than it sounds like it might be.  I’m the front line of contact with people who are in dire straits.  They’ve probably been considering making their phone call for days, desperate in some area of their lives and needing help.  I’m there to listen to them, offer them some comfort, and hopefully find a way to help them out.

The organization does much more than just feed the stomach.  They have utilities and prescription medication assistance, as well as a job board, homework help, and various activities for their clients through out the year.  My first volunteer job was taking pictures of the clients with Santa at the pantry’s annual Christmas party.  I went to Walmart to find the most ridiculously decorated sweater I could find, wore my knee-length Santa hat, and dusted off my old Canon SLR camera for some good shots.  The kids had crafts projects to do, cookies and milk, and each received a stocking with small toys and other treats.  It was a wonderful evening.

I go in today for the tougher work, answering those phones.  I’m still on a learning curve.  I want to connect up potential clients with the correct services we offer, but I also want to be a resource of other services in the community that we don’t offer...like help with rent or house payments or clothing sources.  I’ve spent hours on the Internet educating myself about similar organizations in the community that offer compatible services.  I want every caller who makes that difficult phone call to hang up with some sort of resources, some sort of hope.

The magical thing about volunteering with this organization is the energy I receive back from my work.  Four hours is a long shift for me, but every time I leave with a sense of purpose and gratitude for what I have and what I have to give.  This is probably the best cure for my moodiness and fatigue I get from the post-chemo drug I’m taking, Arimidex.  I feel very fortunate.

So, my new year begins on a very positive note.  I wish the same for all of you dear readers.

The new me

Here I am with my current head of hair.

Yes, it’s a little graying on top.  I’ll decide later if I’ll do anything about it or just let my freak flag fly.

It’s grown in a bit more since my last blog entry, which I can’t believe was over two months ago.  I guess when chemo ends, there’s less to talk about.  But, really, there shouldn’t be.  I should be letting everybody know what life post-chemo is like.  Well, here goes a bit.

The Arimidex, the post-chemo oral medication that I’m taking to suppress estrogen stores, is no barrel of monkeys.  However, it’s not nearly as bad as the Tamoxifen and Megace that I took after my first round of chemo.  I do get mild hot flashes — not the wake-you-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night with sheets soaking wet kind — but they do interrupt my sleep occasionally with the need to fling the covers off.  The effect on my mood and fatigue are more difficult to deal with.  I’m combating that with exercise, journaling, and, soon, getting back into community service.  There’s nothing like helping others to change your perspective and bring on the feel goods.

I have been feeling good enough to do some traveling.  To celebrate the end of my chemo and great last PET scan results, Paul and I went to Sonoma Valley to do some wine tasting back in October...the day after the wildfires started.  We had to adjust our winery visits, but we still managed to have a great time.  We didn’t realize it had been so long since we’d had a trip just the two of us.  It was a great way to reconnect and look ahead toward the future.

Additionally, last month, I went on a 10-day solo trip to visit friends in Oklahoma and Texas, and, yes, I can affirm...there is no basement at the Alamo.  I can also attest that Oklahoma wines are terrible and driving on highways around Dallas require nerves of steel.  However, I had lots of laughs with several great friends, and the entire trip was beyond wonderful.

We went to the family farm in South Carolina for Thanksgiving, and while many of my thoughts turned to my mom and the incredible meals she prepared for Thanksgivings past, it was heartwarming to see extended family and share some quality time together.

So, here we find ourselves in the midst of the Christmas season.  In usual Moore fashion, we don’t yet have a tree up, but we’ll take care of that soon.  I find myself feeling well enough to host both Christmas Eve dinner and Christmas Day brunch, and for that, I am very grateful.  I might need to take a few breaks to put my feet up for a few minutes along the way, but I’m so glad to be able to play hostess for the holidays.  

I’ll have an appointment with my oncologist at the first of the year, and then we’ll talk about scheduling another PET scan a few months after that.  But, I’m not focusing on that part of my life.  It’s not like I can ever forget that I’m a stage IV cancer patient, but thoughts of it don’t invade my every moment.  I have too much else to think about these days.

That dreaded little pill

I saw my oncologist last week, and she prescribed an oral chemotherapy drug for me to attempt to keep my cancer at bay.  It’s an aromatase inhibitor called Arimidex.  It’s side effects are like going through menopause again:  hot flashes, moodiness, insomnia...plus the additional possibility of joint and bone pain.  Not looking forward to this, but it is what it is.

I paused this morning before I swallowed my first dose and said to that dreaded little pill, “I hate you.”  I just had to get that out of my system.  I don’t really hate it.  I do wish I didn’t have to take it, but I’m very appreciative of the potential effectiveness of it.  Aromatase inhibitors stop the production on any residual estrogen in my body, at this point likely stored in my fat cells.  See, even if you go through menopause, you still have estrogen stores in your body.  Since my cancer is estrogen-receptor positive, taking an aromatase inhibitor is the best defense I have against another recurrence.

I’ll have another follow up appointment in three months and another PET scan in six months.  In the meantime, I’m looking forward to life getting on to its new normal.  Already, the fatigue from the IV chemo is abating, and I’ve got some fuzz growing back on my head.

New fuzz on my head...and a hat imprint on my forehead.

Today, I’m going to the drug store to buy some B12 to help get over the fatigue and some Biotin to hopefully help with hair regrowth.

I’m still coming to terms with the loss of my mother.  We now are the owners of her car, a 2001 Buick LeSabre, definitely a “granny car,” and every time I pull in the driveway and see it there, I remember all her trips to our house to help with the boys when they were young.  We got it to have it available to Allen when he’s home.  He’s not particularly thrilled with the make and model, but to him, it’s a free car, at the ready for his use.

I’m also investigating ways to get out in the community in some form of service.  I’ll keep you all posted as developments occur.

Life goes on

I've been spending the last six months since my last blog entry living my life, well, normally as possible.  I find myself thinking about my cancer less often, but it's always there somewhere.  I'm three and one-half years from my initial diagnosis in May 2012.  Still beating the odds.

In the meantime, I've gone kayaking and hiking (8 miles!) in California.  I've gone camping twice with Allen and Boyce's boy scout troop.  I've gotten together with some old girlfriends (old, as in I've known them forever) for a mountain getaway.  I even snuck in a trip during the summer back to visit friends in France.

Allen and Boyce have reached a milestone of starting high school, and I find myself getting very emotional whenever I think about that because there was a time when I didn't think I'd make it to see this happen.  They're both in the high school band, Allen on percussion and Boyce on trumpet.  I have to fight back tears every time they take the field.

I think one of the gifts this cancer journey has given me is getting me more in touch with my emotions.  I feel the good stuff even more intensely.

Yesterday, I celebrated my birthday by getting my six-month PET scan.  I love my new oncologist.  I already got a phone call from her about the results.  I'M CLEAR OF MALIGNANCIES!  This makes my sixth clear PET scan since finishing chemo.

However, there is some thickening of scar tissue around one of my lung resections, so my oncologist wants me to see my pulmonary surgeon just to be sure that's all that's going on.  I have an appointment on November 30th to see what he thinks.

So, it's a clear scan with a slight 'but'.  Be thinking of me as I live my 'normal' life.

How I got here - the short version

In late April of this year, I had a uterine biopsy that revealed hyperplasia, basically cells that looked suspicious. Some people call them pre-cancer.  Recommended treatment, hysterectomy. Pathology study during the hysterectomy (frozen section), confirmed at least stage 1 adenocarcinoma.

Complete post-operative pathology report upgraded me to stage II, because of slight spreading of the cancer into the upper part of the cervix but no spread to the lymph nodes. This is good news, I'm told. This kind of cancer is easily treatable.  Seven weeks of pelvic radiation, and you're practically cured...but we'll follow you closely for the next couple of years to be sure. Surveillance mode, one of my oncologists called it.

Three weeks ago, I had my first follow up PET scan. Truly, I didn't sweat it. Just what's required to confirm my postoperative, post radiation excellent bill of health. Except it didn't. A suspicious pre-existing nodule in my lungs, a favorite metastasis party spot for uterine cancer, lit up with the radioactive glucose solution injected into my veins. Cancer cells love glucose, so they lap it up.

A needle biopsy of the nodule confirmed what my oncologists (and I) already knew had to be true. I have metastatic uterine cancer, stage IV. As bad as it gets. Here I sit, feeling perfectly healthy, with stage IV uterine cancer cells tap dancing around my lungs. Chemotherapy (a cocktail of two medications referred to as carbo/taxol) begins Tuesday. I'll have a treatment every three weeks, for a total of six treatments. Then, we see what happens.

I start this blog for several reasons. I'm hoping it will be therapeutic for me as I navigate through this journey. It will give my family and friends a way to keep up with my progress, without me hounding them with emails, afraid I'm leaving someone unintentionally out of the loop. But, I mostly am doing this because, if I only have a short time left, I want to leave a legacy for Allen and Boyce, my 11 year-old twin boys, to know that their mom fought hard with great courage and had things she wanted to say.

So, I pray to the universe, give me strength and give me peace.