Lab Results and New Meds

I realized that life has me running these days and I forgot to post the results of my doctor's visit last Friday. I actually peeked at the lab results prior to the appointment, and I knew that pesky tumor marker was up again. When Dr. Kohn entered into the room, she said that for the most part everything looked fine, except the CEA marker was up again. I mentioned that I had discovered that already, and she asked me if I saw that the rest of my results were fine. I did, but of course, I wondered what she was going to tell me about the elevated marker.

Just to refresh your memory, tumor markers pick up proteins in the blood that can be caused by cancerous tumors. The CEA marker in particular picks up an indication of gastronomical cancers (primarily colon) which earned me an extra colonoscopy last summer. Before going into the office, I noticed a trend in my numbers from last year, elevated in the summer and decreasing in the fall. I asked my doctor if by chance it could be related to spring and summer allergies. My allergies were particularly bad on the Friday I had the blood draw.

Dr. Kohn didn't think that was the missing puzzle piece, but she admitted that there could be any number of benign (non-cancerous) reasons why my tumor marker is up again. The normal range is under 3.0, and my marker was at 3.2. She mentioned that tumor markers really do not add to the survival rates of patients treated as curative (early stage cancers that the doctors pursue treatment to get rid of the cancer entirely as opposed to cancers that have metastasized). Percentages and numbers are an oncologist's holy grail in deciding treatment and follow up, but Dr. Kohn admitted that it was hard to forego checking the markers. She wasn't going to stress about the slight increase (her words), not even make me come in for a blood draw in two months (which was the protocol we followed last year). Instead, she said she would see me in October, when I was due for my next mammogram.

I had hoped this was how she was going to react to this report. When I did a bit of research again, it seems like people were asking about tumor markers that were significantly higher than normal. If my marker was at a seven or even a five, I would be concerned (especially since some patients online had scores of 27 or 54). But .2 over normal? Especially since this seems to be the trend from last year? Perhaps this is my normal. I usually do things a bit above average, so maybe I'm following that through with tumor markers.

I did decide to try another aromatase inhibitor. I felt like I needed to try one more time because it would give me a bit higher survival percentage and more importantly, didn't have the added uterine cancer risk that plagues tamoxifen. Granted, the survival percentage is very small as is the risk for this secondary cancer, but combined, I felt it was worth trying once more. The last time I tried an AI, the doctor prescribed Arimidex. After a few days, I noticed itchy spots on my abdomen and top of one foot. Then when I forgot to take Claritin one morning, my throat began to swell and I realized these were symptoms of an allergic reaction to the medication.

I started my new med, Aromasin, on Friday. So far, I haven't experienced any negative side effects. I'm trying not to be overly sensitive to my skin itching or whether my tongue feels numb. I've decided that I'll know it if it's a reaction, but I don't want to make one up by overly thinking about it. I'm on the alert for any red bumps, which I haven't found. The best thing is I haven't experienced the achiness that I experienced on Arimidex. This is a common side effect of an AI. This was probably one of the main reasons why I hesitated about switching before. Quality of life, being able to exercise without pain, being flexible and strong, is important to me.  So, as of now, everything looks like it is going well.  I'm so thankful.

So, my season of testing is finished! I am off until next October when I'll undergo a mammogram and blood draw. If everything looks good, my next appointment isn't for six months. Six whole months!! I'm ecstatic over those numbers. Until now, I'll continue living each day for all it's worth, enjoying my kids, the sunshine, this marvelous life that God has blessed me with. And you? Is there anything you are putting off because of fears? Anything you need to try once more? Any test or medical procedure you have been avoiding? Schedule it, perform it, just do it. Remember, God's got your back!

Glimpses of God in an MRI Tube

MRIs can be a relatively easy procedure--if it were on a knee, for instance. But for a breast MRI, the positioning needs to be precise and difficult, and the lying facedown is anything but easy. For me, now an expert at these things, I knew what to expect. After positioning and adjusting and readjusting a bit more, the technician hits a button and the table with me on top is inserted into the tube. I hear the technician's voice in between sessions, but the only view I have is a mirror reflecting a painting on the wall behind me. Add in the necessity of lying absolutely still to the uncertainty of what the test might uncover, it could be a difficult procedure.  Some women require an anti-anxiety drug prior to the test, like Ativan, to make it through. My drug of choice is prayer. I pray and I ask for pray from my friends. There is something so sweet and encouraging to be waiting for my name to be called, and a text pops up from a friend, reminding me that they are praying. That happened several times, before going in for my blood draw, and then moving down the hall to diagnostic imaging... I knew God was with me, but the alerts from my friends helped me feel even more supported.

While undergoing the procedure, I also listen to Christian music to remind myself that God is with me and to help me relax. I was thankful that the technician knew exactly what I meant when I answered her inquiry about the type of music I wanted to listen to. It was as if God personally selected songs that would help get me through this time. Yes, of course, He did! We often overlook minor miracles in our midst because our eyes are closed. Yesterday, I noticed how God arranged the songs especially for me.

The first song on the set was Matt Redmond's 10,000 Reasons. In between the clanging, stutter sounds and whoop-whoops, I heard pieces of...

Bless the Lord, O my soul

Sing like never before, O my soul...

Whatever may pop, or lies before me, 

Let me be singing when the evening comes... 

...You are rich in love and slow to anger...

For all your goodness, I will keep on singing,

10,000 reasons for my heart to find....

More clanging, whooping, dit-dit-dit-dit staccato sounds, a pause and then through my headphones:

Who breaks the power

of sin and darkness?

Whose love is mighty

and so much stronger?

The King of Glory,

The King above all Kings...

This is amazing grace!

This is unfailing love!

That you would take my place,

That you would bear my cross...

"Okay, keep still. I'm ready to start your next session...." Bang, whoop whoop...

There was one more  song, but for the life of me, I cannot remember it. Oh, wait, now I recall. It was so perfect. Oceans (Where Feet May Fail) by Hillsong United.

You call me out upon the waters,

The great unknown

where feet may fail.

And there I find You in the mystery,

in oceans deep,

my faith will stand.

And I will call upon your name,

and keep my eyes above the waves

When oceans rise, my soul will rest in your embrace...

The technician pulled me back to start a contrast liquid into my IV, and I felt cold seep into my arm. Seconds later I tasted chemicals, similar to chemo, but I told my mind to not go there. Six minutes or so later, she was pulling me from the machine and I carefully pushed myself up and off the table. A quick removal of the IV, and I was escorted back to the dressing room. I wore athletic pants to the appointments (my friends are not surprised to read this since I wear them most days), and because they had no metal, I was allowed to wear them for the procedure. So the redressing was quick, and I was on my way back down the long hallway and out to my car. Well, I did treat myself to a cappuccino at the hospital coffee shop. I told myself if all the tests are clear next week, I'll splurge for a pump of vanilla in a latte!  

When I arrived at home, Ben popped out to the garage to ask if he could go over to a friend's house. 

"All done with your grammar?" I asked. He had a couple pages left and we were determined to finish it before summer break.

"Yup!" he countered. Very deep conversation. I'm sure you are all intrigued. I was feeling a bit tired, however, having not slept well the night before and feeling the effects of the procedures. I was so thankful he had a fun place to go.

Dropping off the groceries I picked up from Trader Joe's, something inspired me to check the front porch. I spotted this beautiful display of flowers: 

Another flower arrangement by Krista
Thanks, sweet friend!!

So my tests are finished. School is finished. Just like the older two are waiting for their final grades, I'm waiting for my test results. I haven't let it spoil my relaxing weekend. Nice, long walk with Walt and Sugar this morning. Time in God's word and prepping for my last bible study meeting tomorrow. Yard work in the afternoon. Of course, a bit of blogging now and maybe time for reading... My eyes are open, looking for glimpses of God as I wait. What about you? Where is God showing up in your day? 

Last Day of School and MRI

Last April (oops, it was really January!), I stood at the check out counter at the oncology clinic, making an appointment for an MRI and blood draw. My calendar noted it was the kids' last day of school, June 12. (Because of a one day teacher walkoff, their last day of school is technically June 15th now, but no one I know is sending their kids on Monday.) It's amazing that tonight I'm sitting on the eve of that day that seemed so far away, looking at how fast the time went. The  kids have taken numerous tests, written several papers and made presentations in class. The dreaded end-of-course exams, including Becca taking a biology test even though she hadn't studied the subject in over a year, are finished.  Tonight, Becca is completely done with all her finals and for the first night in ages, she doesn't have to finish up school work for any class. Nathan has one small test tomorrow. While I am at my appointments, Ben will finish the bit of grammar he has left, the other two will be saying goodbye to teachers and friends, participate in a crossover assembly, and then come home to a whole summer break stretched before them. It's truly remarkable that we are already at this day. I wish we could celebrate it other than by me lying in an MRI tube. Oh, well. Such is life.

Of course, I'm praying that my tests are benign, and that alone will make a great celebration. I first have my blood draw and then will head down the hall to imaging and wait for my MRI appointment. It's been a year since I was here for an MRI, but this is also the same place where I had my thyroid tests last fall. I won't find out the blood test results until I meet with my oncologist next Friday, but I recall receiving a phone call regarding my MRI results last year.

I've really felt God's peace this week. I am amazed that I haven't felt one ounce of dread or worry as this day approached. I know God will be there with me, I know He has a plan and already knows the answers to whether the radiologist will see anything tomorrow. Let's hope this is just another test checked off my list, and not the beginning of something bigger or scarier. It's just a test, I remind myself, and afterwards, we can truly welcome in our summer break.

Supported by Grace

Krista's Flowers
Every week during chemo, Krista dropped off flowers for my porch.
 Last week she came over for a bbq and brought me a jar full again!
They represent God's grace to me, undeserved but so beautiful!.

A week or so ago I had a terrible dream. I dreamed that my cancer was back and I had to undergo chemo immediately. All the emotions felt real: angst about losing my hair, worrying about nausea, wondering how we were going to keep pace with the kids' activities... When I woke up, I had to remind myself that it was a dream. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. Even though my head agreed, my emotions had trouble catching up.

Usually cancer floats around my consciousness, like a fragrance I've grown accustomed to smelling. Some days it bursts through my senses, like the whiff of a strong, putrid scent.  Because I recently shared my cancer story at our church's women's retreat, I've again ripped open the emotional scars of going through chemo, the ups and downs, the nausea and food aversions. My subconscious, while I slept, must have picked up on those emotions.

When I first received my cancer diagnosis, I knew God would use it to glorify Himself, to touch others. I tried to be faithful to this, including being willing to share my experience with anyone who asks. So when Susan, my friend and women's ministry director at our church, asked me to share my story at this year's women's retreat, I immediately said yes. It wasn't necessarily something I wanted to do, but I felt it was something I needed to do to make sense of my cancer. I was able to share how God never left me, even in the midst of my hardest days. I shared how God's grace met me every day. I described how suffering isn't the absence of God's goodness, but His means of getting our attention, removing the fluff in in our lives so we can truly see Him. It was emotional and good. I tried not to be pollyannish about how God met my every needs, but I shared how some days were brutally hard and my pain was raw. On those days I had to dig and hunt for a glimpse of God. My prayer as I prepared and as I spoke was that God would use my words and experience to draw someone to Him in a new way.

At the end, I opened up for any questions. One lady, the mother of our junior high youth director, came up front and told me she, too, underwent treatment for breast cancer, about six months behind me. She even has my same doctors! I also noticed another lady who was openly sobbing through my talk. Afterwards, she caught up with me and shared her story. She was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer, her cancer already having spread to her bones. We connected, we shared, we teared up.

It was an amazing weekend. The new friends I met, the stories that were shared keep rolling around my mind. I've been thinking of cancer, too. I'm sure this fueled my dream the other night. Shaken, I remember getting out of bed that morning and immediately replaced the dread of chemo with thankfulness that it wasn't my reality today. It threw me off a bit, but after spending time with God, reading His Word, praying, following God's lead as I started my day, I felt better. I still feel the emotions of that morning, because, in truth, the possibility of recurrence is real.

Next Friday, I go back in for an MRI. I remember the fear surrounding that first MRI, the fresh cancer diagnosis not quite settled into my reality. Last year's MRI was easier because I was so much more acclimated to these sort of tests. My worry was  that the highly sensitive films would show more spots that would need biopsying. Last year, everything was clear. I'm praying for the same this year.

Yet today, on this beautiful sunny Saturday in June, with our backyard waterfall roaring in the background, the breeze gently blowing and Sugar keeping my company, I'm enjoying the present. As I told the ladies at the retreat, as long as I focused on what is right here, God would be with me. If my mind wanders out into the future, God's grace isn't there. That's where I hope to stay this week, supported by God's grace. Want to join me?

Wish you could hear the rushing water

My faithful companion