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. 

Six-month PET scan results: cancer free!

Yesterday, I went in for my six-month post-chemo PET scan and already got the results back:  I remain cancer-free!  Not even the tiniest sign of malignancy.  I do have an appointment on the books with my oncologist on April 14th, but it remains to be seen if I’ll be able to keep that appointment.  Perhaps, we’ll have a teleconference, at the least.  I’d like to find out if my next scan will be in three months or six.  I’m sure I’ll remain on the Arimidex, and I’m never going to complain about it again, if it helps me maintain the status quo.

Good news like this is a bright moment during these surreal days of COVID-19.  All is currently well in the Moore household.  We’re all healthy and trying to keep busy.  I’m lucky that my husband Paul works in a necessary industry (they make paper products, like toilet paper), but he is able to do his job from home.  My son Allen is completing his university coursework online, at least for the remainder of this semester.  He wants to go to summer school and, like so many college students, hopes that he can return to campus for this.  Boyce is taking some time off from college, but he hopes to restart again in the fall...again, hopefully on campus and not on his computer at home.

For those of you living in other countries, I thought I’d give a little update on life in Snellville, Georgia.  Most small businesses have had to close for lack of clients and concerns about infection.  Large gathering spots like movie theaters, playgrounds, and churches have closed.  Grocery stores, pharmacies, gas stations, and some restaurants remain open.  Restaurants that are open are for curbside pickup or delivery only.  The shelves at the grocery stores are not well-stocked, especially not for canned goods, meats, and the ever elusive toilet paper.  Our supply lines are well in place, but people are buying frantically, creating the effect of shortages.

We used to eat out a lot, and that has certainly changed.  One of my main tasks is food requisition and preparation.  However, dinner has become the highlight of the day.  I’m a reasonably good (though sometimes reluctant) cook, and my family has enjoyed finding out what each night’s offering is going to be.  We sit around the table — not in front of the television watching Jeopardy — and have conversation.  Today, I was reminded of a time when the boys were six (that’s 13 years ago), when I began reading them a chapter a night after dinner of Harry Potter.  I think I’m going to restart this tradition.  I enjoy reading aloud, and I’m going to search our bookshelves to find something suitable that we’ll get into.  Something fictional and engrossing, with lots of characters I can give voice to.  Feel free to offer suggestions.

In the meantime, please keep the health of a dear friend of mine in your thoughts and prayers.  She’s having to go through chemotherapy a third time in the midst of a pandemic.  Her immune system is very unstable due to the chemo, and she needs all good juju you can muster right now.

I also want to take just a few moments to let all reading this entry to know how much you all mean to me...close relatives and friends down the chain to acquaintances I’ve never met.  These are uncertain times.  I encourage all of you to take a few minutes to get in touch with those you love and tell them what they mean to you.

I love you all.

Remain safe and sound

These are confusing, challenging times.  I struggle to find the words for what I want to say in this post.

First, I guess I should say that I’m doing fine.  Health is good, as is the rest of the family, who are all home for the duration of the COVID-19 pandemic.  Even Paul’s company has a work from home plan right now.  We are limiting our outings, which consist mostly of searching for toilet paper.  Ironic that Paul’s company makes it, but even their online employee website is out of stock.  I’ll probably make an early-morning outing tomorrow to see if I can score some.

The other challenge has been finding alcohol prep wipes to sanitize my skin before making an insulin injection.  However, a dear friend sent me some to hopefully get me through until an order I placed online arrives.  All local resources are exhausted.  I hear a rumor that people are buying them up to sanitize their cell phones.

I have a PET scan scheduled for next week, but I’m beginning to wonder if it will happen, with all the required precautions for spreading the virus.  March 19th represents my 6-month anniversary since my last chemo treatment.

My hair is growing in very, very curly.  Think 1970’s perm that your mom got at the beauty parlor.  I’m looking forward to it growing out further and perhaps stretching out the curl.  But, in the grand scheme of things, this is such a minor concern.

I’ve suspended my volunteer work at a local food pantry, which I really struggle to accept.  I don’t want to believe that I’m in a high risk category, but with metastases to my lungs, I guess I’m in that group, even thought I have no active cancer.  I was truly enjoying my time spent there, and I’m broken-hearted that I’m not there helping out at a time when they face true challenges.

So, in the Moore household, thing are certainly going as best as can be expected.  I think of all of you out there who may be facing difficult times, and I pray that you will all rise above those challenges and remain safe and sound.

I’ll be in touch later when I found out if I’ll have my PET scan...and hopefully the good results that it shows.

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.

The best news ever

I received the best news ever!  My PET scan done Monday showed absolutely no cancer!  Once again, I’ve beaten this thing.

Even though I’m overjoyed, I proceed with cautious optimism.  I think once you have a recurrence, you realize only too well how easily it can happen again.  I’m not going to live my life waiting for the next shoe to fall.  I plan to get out there and really enjoy myself, but there’s always going to be a wonder, an inkling, a worry.

But, right now I’m celebrating!  As luck would have it, I’m with girlfriends

Because when you find a giant peanut on the side of the road, you have to stop and take your picture with it.

on our annual weekend getaway, and we are rejoicing together.  There’s nothing like spending time with these old friends that I met as a young mother.  We provided the network of support for each other while raising our children through those difficult early years.  Now we’re sending them off to college.  We’ve been there for each other through some of us returning back to the workforce and the sickness and death of parents, providing the help to navigate through rough waters.  I can’t imagine my life without them.

While my heart still grieves over the loss of my mother, I can see the light ahead, and there is great promise for what the future holds.  I think mom would have liked that.  She was a resilient woman who withstood a lot in her life.  What a great example to me as I follow through to the next stage of this journey.

Mom’s service Tuesday was lovely.  My siblings and I all gave brief eulogies, each offering our own unique memories.  We laughed together and cried together.  Mom would have been pleased with her sendoff.  It was a fitting classy affair for a classy lady.

Next week, I meet with my oncologist to discuss the next phase.  I’ll have many, many more PET scans while I’m in surveillance mode.  I’ll very likely start some oral medication, like tamoxifen or megace, to attempt to keep the cancer from returning, and my hair will start growing back in!

But, what I’m most looking forward to is the sense of getting my life back.  Less doctors appointments, more energy, the freedom to pursue whatever the next stage of my life will bring.  I’m searching for something.  Something to stave off this empty next syndrome I’ve been fighting since I sent both my boys off to college.  There’s a calling out there for me.  I just have to look for it.

So, rejoice with me, dear readers.  You’ve all been such a source of strength for me during this bout with the beast.  Thanks to all of you for all that you’ve done to help me reach this place.  I’ll keep you posted about future developments.