Two Steps Forward, Three Steps Back
Have you ever had that dream where you’re running, something’s chasing you and you’re running as fast as you can, but no matter how fast you move your legs you don’t go anywhere? Yeah.
Got the results of the CT yesterday. (You see where this is going, don’t you.) The Avastin is successfully holding down the pelvic tumors – they’re even smaller than they were in November. The lungs, however, don’t seem to be getting the message. Old (tiny, glacially progressing) nodules have grown a millimeter or two; new subcentimeter nodules are appearing. No lymph node increases, nothing in the abdomen or bones. But those lung guys, off by themselves, clearly on their own program, making trouble.
I’m working on my optimism, but today it feels like my balloon is a little deflated. I know all the things I’m doing to take care of myself, exercise, diet, good attitude, and all the things my medical team are doing to take care of me, scans, great medicines, oodles of treatment options, are the best in the business. Seems the glacier’s gonna carve that canyon anyway.
The Avastin will continue; I’m meeting March 1 with the head of the clinical trial department to see if there are any open studies looking for a guinea pig who’s totally healthy except for the damn cancer. Let’s hope the nasty make-your-hair-fall-out-again studies are all full.
One thing’s for sure, I’m going shopping with my usual post-tax-return IRA deposit this year.
I'm a two-and-a-half time ovarian cancer survivor who is not only determined to make it to sixty but also to look damn good while getting there. My two boys, husband, and dog are counting on me to get out of bed every day, so I might as well wear something cute and make each one COUNT. I'd love to hear from you about your odyssey - sharing makes it all easier to take. And laugh at.
The Carcinista 
Dawna said,
February 19, 2010 at 11:23 AM
All I can add is a little optimism. All is Well, Sweet, Sassy Sarah. All is Well.
donnatrussell said,
February 19, 2010 at 12:31 PM
Hi Sarah. I’m sorry to hear this. Cancer is such a challenge. Even the holy grail of remission is not all that great when you’re still terrified of recurrence. But of course, managing that fear is clearly the lesser of evils.
Over the years I’ve learned to think of cancer as a before-and-after event. I first heard the phrase “the new normal” in a book by someone who’d “survived” divorce. I remember thinking: Divorce! Oh if only I had a divorce on my hands instead of cancer!
FWIW:
http://donnatrussell.com/2009/06/03/cancer-survivor-manifesto/
And:
THE COMFORT OF WOOD
By Naomi Shihab Nye
I come to this table tired
I come empty as a cup
a fruit bowl with no bananas
I come with my various resources
dragging behind me
a cat’s wet tail
I come to this table with no song
no definite opinion like garlic or onion
flavoring the stew
The table is sitting where it always sits
braided placemats
in front of each chair
I found the table at a store called
“The Hand and the Heart”
I was not looking for tables
The table sat in the center of the room
leaves like wings folded at its sides
a single drawer with a runner that stuck
Now I am learning the comfort of wood
as I place my head on the table
as I fold my hands over the scars
Take care. – DT
mom said,
February 19, 2010 at 1:03 PM
I’m with you all the way.
Ann said,
February 19, 2010 at 2:27 PM
I’m so sorry to hear the news. Good luck with the Clinical Trial director- here’s hoping there is something in the works that will remove this cancer from you for good. In the meantime, you are doing all the right things to keep yourself healthy for the cure.
Thinking of you.
mynameisnotcancergirl said,
February 20, 2010 at 11:18 AM
Well, shit. This wasn’t was I was hoping to read. II am so pleased that the Avastin is helping with the pelvic tumors, but hate that the lung nodules are growing.
Take the time to be upset/pissed/scared because, as you know, shoving those feelings aside doesn’t work. You’ll know when you’re ready to begin being optimistic. Until then, don’t fake it for the rest of us.
To borrow a turn of phrase from my beloved Hussies, let me pull your wagon for a bit, as you have pulled mine.
Jennifer Houston said,
February 21, 2010 at 7:48 PM
Damn it.
Kristen Brooks said,
February 22, 2010 at 5:25 PM
Thinking of you as you kick some a** with the cancer and the clinical trial director…..
tori said,
March 3, 2010 at 8:48 AM
I’m way behind on checking the site and so I’m sorry I haven’t read this till now. Little fuckers. (i’m referring to the crap on your lungs) I’m working through the anger here to think positive thoughts and send them your way. bigggg hugs.