Avastin and I broke up. We had a good ride but our ideas on a long-term relationship differed. Cancer was the bitch that got between us.
I’ve had nausea and dizziness for the past few weeks so I saw my general doc, my eye doc and had a brain scan. Brain is good and it’s not vertigo so let’s do a full PET scan! Low and behold, there are three masses, all about 1.5 to 2.0 cm and one pushing against my pancreas and bowel, giving me that lovely ‘morning sickness’ feeling and other unpleasantries.
There we were again talking about new options with my oncology team. I am very thankful for options but this sucks! My oncologist and radiologist were both very excited about a clinical trial for Nivolumab. She sounds pretty badass… a human programmed death receptor-1 blocking antibody. Nivolumab and I are going to get close, every two weeks close for 46 doses. I’ll get scans every eight weeks and if improvement isn’t seen, then I’ll jump on some targeted radiation. 22 of us will be in the study and since this is a second tiered trial, we all get the drug for free in the name of science. The side effects are very similar to Avastin, minus the chance of heart failure – so I got that going for me, which is nice.
And because life continues to move forward, we made two *huge* changes: we bought our dream home and sold a well-loved home. Selling a home is stressful but it actually became comical in our household. Picture two grown ups running around before an open house, hiding cat boxes, ‘staging’ rooms with the ‘good rugs’, shoving FOUR CATS into individual carriers (don’t forget the DOG!) and either driving around or drinking wine on our friend’s patio while the dogs circle the caged cats. I never want to sell a house again. I’m staying in this one forever… good thing I love it.
Life seems to be a series of good and bad. I keep thinking about a secondhand saying another cancer fighter said, “cancer may take my life, but it will not take my day”. Most days, cancer doesn’t exist in my world and other days the only thing that gets me through is my hatred for cancer. I love my sunny days, even the days I scream obscenities at the universe. Hope is still a household word that I find a great deal of comfort in. Each day I am hopeful, grateful, thankful and just full.
On the topic of feeling full (of love), as an American Cancer Society Hero of Hope, I had the great honor of sharing my story at several Relay For Life’s throughout the Bay Area this summer. Here’s me at the Relay For Life of Marnia — they were such a welcoming group. I tear-up with admiration every time I speak to Relayers, fighters. We all hate cancer and collectively we become a force for good.