Kayaking without the dolphins

The weather was perfect last evening. Broad Creek was at near low tide, and the wind was only a whisper.  It should have been the ideal time for kayaking with the dolphins, but other than one faint unseen spurt from a blow hole just as we were coming back into dock after a two-hour paddle to experience what became the illusive sea creature, there were no dolphins to be seen.  “Eighty per cent of the time, we see dolphins,” boasted our guide.

Oh well.  It was still a great paddle under ideal circumstances, and I’m most proud of the fact that my kayaking skills remain intact...not that I’m a veteran, by any stretch of the imagination...but I do enjoy getting out on occasion.  The ease of the paddle rotating through the water when you get your rhythm just right.  The silence of it all, except for the swish-swish of paddle to water.  I kept up, mostly in the front of our tour group, and was determined that this chemo woman, this cancer patient, was not going to tire out and hold the group back...and I didn’t, and it was glorious.

Ester Williams has nothing on me

Perhaps it’s been since the Ester Williams era of the 1950’s that you thought of women wearing a  bathing cap, but that’s exactly what I’ve been doing this week at Hilton Head Island.  Not only do I want to disguise my bald pate, I want to protect its tender skin from the harsh rays of the sun.  Hence, my retro bathing cap.

My eyes are squinted a bit more than usual, as the wind was whipping up a bit of a sand storm, but let it never be said that I didn’t want to make a statement with my headwear.  Yes, I’ve gotten more than the occasional sideways glance from the masses along the beach, but I truly don’t care.  I’ve got my beach read, my adult beverage, my comfy beach chair, and my family around me.  What more could a girl ask for?  It’s a lovely way to escape the regimen of chemotherapy and cancer worries for a week.  So what if i don’t have long curly locks to tie up into a stylish bun?  That time will come again.  In the meantime, I’ll take my Ester Williams look in exchange for healthier times in the future. 

A welcome respite

Well, my new normal seems to be waking up about 4:00 a.m., as I did this morning.  I don’t mind, anymore, because I went to bed at 10:00 last night and had a long three-hour nap yesterday afternoon.  The house is very quiet, and I’ve come to like this contemplative time to myself.

I got my Day 10 blood work results yesterday, and they’re great!  My neutrophils are hanging in there at 2300, a little below what’s normal for the average person but well above what’s considered acceptable to continue treatment without any bone marrow support.  Additionally, the cancer marker, CA-125, continues to drop, indicating my cancer is receding.  I’ve got four chemotherapy treatments under my belt with two more to go.  I really couldn’t ask for better.

My energy levels are okay, probably great for this stage in the chemo game, but I certainly look forward to the day that I feel fully myself again.  I did have a little scare about a week ago when my temperature spiked up to 101.6, but it resolved within six hours with some ibuprofen and Tylenol, and no other symptoms.  My oncologist wasn’t too concerned, and with the positive Day 10 blood work, we consider it of no consequence.

Paul, the boys, and I leave for Hilton Head Island today for a week long family vacation, perhaps our last together for a while with the boys starting college in a few short weeks.  I want to cherish this time we’ll have together, and I look forward to many hours reading my book in a comfy chair under the beach tent.  Since the boys had solo experiences with no parents down at Hilton Head earlier this summer, I hope Paul and I don’t cramp their style too much.  I have to keep reminding myself that they’re young men now with their own agendas.

I’m lucky that this trip I planned back in February before I knew of my cancer recurrence so nicely fits into my chemo schedule.  It’s during the third week of the cycle, just before my next treatment on the 30th, and typically the week when I’m feeling at my best.  I don’t know that I’ll feel up to climbing the Sea Pines Lighthouse, but we do plan on going on an evening nature-guided kayak tour in the interior marshes of the island, near dolphin feeding grounds.  We’re all hopeful to kayak alongside the dolphins.  I’ve done this once before, and it was magical.  The touring company has named several of the dolphins, so I think this is a good indicator that they often appear.

However, I have to admit that the chemo regimen is getting old about now.  I’m tired of feeling tired, and I’m tired of parsing out my days based on someone else’s agenda.  I’m ready to plan my life at my own whim, but I remind myself that I’ve only got about another month to go before I’ve got all six treatments under my belt.  And then, hopefully, another long remission when I’m the captain of my own ship, heading to whatever new lands that ship takes me.  I’ve already got tentative plans of some travels I hope to undertake when I’m done.  It’s nice to have those goals and be an armchair travel agent, taking myself to both familiar and unfamiliar places.

But, then there’s my new life of an empty nester coming up and all the uncertainties that brings.  I know I’ve got to find something meaningful to occupy my time, and I enjoy finding myself sifting through the possibilities.  Cancer has a way of changing your perspective of what’s important, and though I only have inklings of where I’ll end up, I know I want to participate in something that matters, to give back to the universe some of the positive energy it has given me to get through this journey.

However, right now, I just need to focus on packing my suitcase and hitting the road to the coast, a welcome respite with my own agenda at the top of the list.  I think I’ve earned this one.

On the right path

Two days ago, I had my mid-treatment PET scan to assess the progress of the three chemotherapy sessions I’ve had thus far, and I got the results yesterday.  I still have a ways to go, but the cancer is receding.  Not only were the nodules in my lungs less reactive to the radioactive glucose that they love to lap up during a PET scan, they had decreased in size.  I’m not out of the woods yet, but we’re definitely on the right path to eradicating them...the best news a cancer patient can receive when midway through treatment.  My chemo cocktail of carboplatin and placlitaxel is working, and I am on the road to being cancer free again!

This drug combination worked well for me the last time I had chemo seven years ago, so I’ve been expecting the same results this time.  But, to receive confirmation is a joyous occasion...so joyous, I threw aside my afternoon fatigue and had happy hour with the girls yesterday.  I shared with them my good news, and they reveled in it with me.  Then, we got down to the business of conversation about our daily lives over gin and tonics.  The best way to celebrate.  Just being ourselves without the heavy cloud of cancer hanging over my every thought.  It was so liberating.

I am beyond grateful for my doctors with their knowledge of how best to treat me, my family and friends for their constant support and encouragement, and for the positivity in the universe that I’m able to tap into to keep me going.  This third cycle has been a more difficult one for me, as fatigue has been more challenging, but this news is worth every nap I’ve had to take.  It sort of puts it all in perspective for me.  I need my rest so my body can do its best to let the chemo repair it.  I’ll sleep all day for these kind of results and not complain about it...well, maybe once or twice.

On other fronts, Paul was able to have his staples removed yesterday from his emergency appendectomy about two and a half weeks ago.  He’s not 100% either just yet, but he’s definitely improving every day.  He’s had to learn the power of a healing afternoon nap too.

So, life is pretty good in the Moore household, and for that I am very thankful.

A bump in the road

There’s no easy, eloquent way to put this.  My cancer has recurred.  It does seem small and localized, and, most importantly, treatable.

Yes, I just reported a clear PET scan, so my announcement may seem odd.  But, it wasn’t until my gynecological oncologist examined me last week that she found a very small tumor in my vaginal opening, just below the urethra, flying under the radar of the PET scan.  Sorry for the indelicate language, but that’s just how it is with gyn cancers.

Next week, I begin a 10-day course of radiation treatment, highly focused just on the spot where the tumor is.  After that, I might have one other radiation treatment that must be done in the OR, with me under sedation.  Additionally, I’ll probably start a course of Tamoxifen, an oral cancer drug that will hopefully mop up any additional little cancer cells that might be roaming around out there.

I’m over five years into remission, and I can’t believe I’m here again fighting the cancer monster.  Yes, I’m concerned, and sometimes at night after everyone’s gone to bed and I’m alone with my thoughts, I feel a little lost.  Mostly, however, I’m just pissed to have to take on this battle again.  Or, maybe it’s more of a skirmish compared with last time.  Either way, it’s not the way I want to be spending my time.

But, there’s no option but to move forward.  So here I move, over this bump in the road.

A great way to start the school year

I just received my ninth clear PET scan report since completing chemo, nearly six years ago.  Whew!  I had a little bit of a scare and had several days of nervous waiting, but I’m all clear!

In those few days I let my thoughts go to some dark places.  What if my sons have to spend their senior year with their mother going through chemo again?  How many of those “last” moments would I have to miss while recovering in my well worn recliner, as the rest of the world continued to spin around me?  How much would my husband, Paul, have to pick up the slack while he also focused his attention on his job?

What a gift to spend the first week of school getting good news about my health!  I’m prepared for all those footballs games, fencing tournaments, Eagle Scout projects, college applications, and just plain simple dinners around the table together.  (I just wish those senior pictures turned out better.)

Bring on senior year!  I’m ready!

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.