Tag Archives: Avastin

Trials and Tribulations

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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.

Blazing Trails (and other metaphors).

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Avastin and I have been BFF’s for a year and we started our second year together last month. My oncologist has no other patients in a long-term relationship with this drug. He says I’m a trail blazer. Not really how envisioned myself blazing trails but it’s nice to know I’m providing research in the name of science.

For the past four months, we have been monitoring my protein because it’s creeping into my urine. My kidney plumbing is confused. I say ‘plumbing’ because my creatinine level is still good.

24-hour urine collections are fun because you get a huge orange biohazard jug that you keep in the refrigerator during the collection period. As comical as I thought it would be for my co-workers to panic about ‘what the hell is in the refrigerator’,  I did not conduct my collections at work.

All three urinalysis showed an increase so my husband and I sat with my oncologist last week. Another metaphor my doctor used was ‘a rock and a hard place’ and I threw in ‘lesser of two evils’ (I thought it was some kind of metaphor throw down ). Since we are in ‘uncharted territory’, the lesser evil I chose was to take a break from my treatments. There were scary words spoken like nephrologist, kidney biopsy and dialysis. That’s when I want to stick my fingers in my ears and just ‘lalalalalalala’. So in a few months we’ll check my level and see how things have improved (I’m a glass-half-full girl).

I have to say that my body feels completely amazing. My joint pain, swelling and blood pressure have already gone down. I feel stronger than I have in a long time. I am thankful to have my body back.

Speaking of thankfulness, tomorrow is traditionally when we gather to celebrate the harvest bounty and reflect upon what we are thankful for. One day of reflection is not enough for me. Every day I am thankful that my life is full of loving friends and family. Every day I am thankful that my children are safe, happy, compassionate beings. Every day I am thankful to the man whom I share my highest highs and lowest lows with. Every day I am thankful. I am sending good vibes out through the universe; may they bounce into your heart.

a fence in my neighborhood

Living the dash.

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Back to work. Working out (why did I start with a Bikram yoga class??). Not throwing up. Not being so tired I don’t leave my bed. Cooking dinner with my husband. Drinking some wine.

I prefer this daily life. You can call it ‘the grind’ but its heaven to me.

My first round of a solo flight of Avastin was a mere 30 minute infusion – I barely had time to admire the new PAMF Infusion Center. Remote controlled seat warmer and massage chair – I seriously wished my six hour sessions could have been here! Four days later I have only one side effect, dry nose. “Coke nose” as I unaffectionately call it.

My cancer has never been something I could feel. No pain. Nada. I will not label this a blessing or a curse, just a fact. It was the side effects from the chemo treatments that gave me ‘bad days’. And now that I wear the remission crown, will I be *more* anxious when my six month CT scan comes around in January? All I can say right now is ‘bring it on’. I want to hold on to that sentiment as long as I can.

Each person living with cancer is on a different journey. Even if you share the same cancer diagnosis, the cancer is different in every body. Because of this, cancer seems bigger than the word ‘disease’. Through my journey, I have met many people – some I know personally and some through blogs. I have sat beside their pain, I have peaked into their coping strategies and most of all I have head nodded to just about every word they have said or written. It’s a community that no one wishes they were a member of but grateful nonetheless.

Living the dash, the grind… we all just want to be here longer; to love, laugh, cry and witness the gifts.

“Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans” ~ John Lennon

Disneyland 2013

Another sunny day.

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My CT scan results show ‘previous described hepatic lesions are no longer visualized. No suspicious osseous lesions.’ This means the chemo cocktail I’ve been on since April has done what it’s suppose to do and my oncologist has deemed me ‘in remission’. I have never heard these words before and let me tell you, it was music to my ears (I literally heard Jeff Buckley singing Hallelujah). I’ll take remission, thank you very much.

Given my reoccurrence and metastasis, my oncologist suggested I continue with Avastin (Bevacizumab) every three weeks. Since I like the idea of doing something instead of nothing, I’m signing up for this course of action. My life is joyous and I will do everything necessary for more days on this planet with the people I love.

I am hoping the Avastin will continue to give me minimal side effects as I return to work soon. Work stress seems laughable compared to fighting cancer so I got that going for me, which is nice. I do like having something ‘normal’ to do each day but I honestly know that work will always be work and that the time I spend outside of work is where I thrive.

From day one, I have been armed with love and healing energy from countless souls who pray, meditate, email and telepathically send messages of hope my way. No one could be more grateful for these acts beyond kindness. My heart is full, my soul enriched and my body is strong.

I have shared these words from an unknown (to me) cancer patient before but they are worth saying again… “Cancer may take my life but it will not take my day.” Hell yeah.

I'm sailing!