RE-MISSION IMPOSSIBLE? OR POSSIBLE

All had been quiet on the blog front because I have just been soldiering on through my 6 cycles of Avastin and Abraxane. My final treatment for this series, which began in April, is September 25th. I was prepared to have a PET scan (the 1st one since February when I had 13 new active cancer spots on my skeleton) after the 25th and then consult with Dr. K. He was not satisfied with this situation because if the outcome was that I was to remain on the Avastin and Abraxane we would get off of our established schedule. Cancer buggers can do a lot while the proverbial "mice" of chemotherapy are away. So, I had a PET scan this last Wednesday and consulted with Dr. K. yesterday on Friday.

I had prepared myself for the worst. These scans really do a number on me. I get a bad case of "scanxiety" and continually imagine that I am going to hear, "It didn't work at all and we are going to have to move onto Door #3 and you are going to have to have a harsher drug and it is going to suck more than you can imagine and blah, blah, blah." I suppose that this is a coping mechanism, of sorts, because when you are a mets girl to even allow yourself to think that something is going to go right is just not something that we do. We prepare for the worst and hope for something on the scale just above the worst and this is progress. It really is absurd because we all want to live in a place of hopefulness, a place where our condition will somehow change from a death sentence to life without parole.

Well I guess the Governor of Cancer called up on the bat-phone and in a way commuted my sentence for the time being. Over the past 6 months I have heard Dr. K use the "R" word (remission) twice. I NEVER thought that remission was a possibility for me. I thought that even if the outcome of any treatment was good that there would still be metastatic disease on my skeleton and even thought it wasn't active it would always be there. The internal evidence of my scarlet letter "C."

On Friday, I hadn't looked at my results and so Dr. K was the first one to read them to me. I literally felt like I was in the middle of a miracle moment as he shared my results with me. I had to make sure that he was reading MY results not someone elses. The PET scan sealed the deal. Because my CA 27-29 has gone from 150 to 70, my pain is all but disappeared with the exception of my low back which has all those collapsed vertebraes and fractures, I have been feeling better than ever since I have been diagnosed and according to some (not me) I look better than I have looked (even without any hair) since my diagnosis in July 2007 we were hopeful that the PET would reveal progress. I didn't imagine it would reveal a small miracle.

Originally I had 6 tumors in my left breast and axilla. Many of them were big like baseball and golf ball size. Two had disappeared awhile ago, two were gone from this scan. I mean totally gone. The last two (baseball and golf ball) are down to 1cm by 1cm, they are petering out. The two last buggers are there but they are not doing well. They aren't thriving, they are dying. Good riddance. As far as my skeletal mets, which were EVERYWHERE in my body. THEY ARE GONE!!!!! There is no evidence of any disease with the exception of a small spot on my right 4th rib and possibly a spot on my pelvis, but that is probably a post-radiation spot not a cancer spot.

To me this is just unbelievable. This chemotherapy/biotherapy/bone builder regime has worked and it has worked well. All the fatigue from the therapies and the pain from the marrow builders and the Thursday-Friday-Saturday trips to the cancer institute have been worth it and worth it in a way that is amazing.

I'll give you a little quote from the report:
"There is remarkable interval decreased or complete resolution of abnormal activity see in the entire skeleton now." and "There is almost complete metabolic response of the osseous skeletal lesions."

The plan is this. I will have 6 more treatments of the Abraxane and Avastin which will run me up to December 18th. I will be sending out an email blast for chemo buddies and Neulasta shot ride friends on Saturday. Dr. K believes that with the 6 more treatments that I could go into complete remission. Now, me being the metastatic pessimist I am not going to hold my breath BUT I will be visualizing the death of the final 3-4 spots that are left.

Thank you all for the rides, sitting with me, playing with the girls, the meals, the support, sitting with me through the interminable chemo sessions. Thank you for the well-wishes, the prayers, the cards and the emails. Thank you for being a part of getting us this far. We couldn't have done it without your help.

Most of all I have to thank my family without you three I wouldn't be able to make it through the treatments, and the tests and the shots. Matt, Anya and Mila this victory is yours. You have sacrificed so much to get me here. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Today's Purpose

Last night I received the good news from Dr.K that the MRIs of my right hip and lumbo-sacral spine show no new progression of disease. This is great news! We had some concerns because my CA 27-29 had been going up at a semi-alarming rate (40 to 60 to 80.) Additionally, I have been having a lot of pain in my hip and low back on the right. When I say "a lot" of pain this is probably the kind of pain that most would rate a "10" out of ten. Since I just continue to trudge on through the pain (with the help of pharmaceuticals) it says quite a bit that I am mentioning, much less complaining about pain. THEORUM: CA 27-29 Increase + Pain in hip & back increase = MRI.

My October PET scan was great. The metastatic disease in my bones has been arrested. It is still there but it is not spreading so it is stable. The little effer cancer cells from Hell are pooping out because they have no estrogen to feed on (they are such crack whores.) Our hope is that the future PET scans will show that the disease is now dying off. Dr. K wanting a MRI to see if we had missed something or if there was something percolating in the hip/femoral head/sacral region. There could be something that was not picked up on PET scan. Thankfully, there was nothing.

Dr.K is "cautiously optimistic." I think he and Lou Dobbs from CNN are in a continual state of cautious optimism. Let me say here and now that I am good with cautious optimism. It is way better than flagrant pessimism.

The girls and I are all suffering with strep throat. I don't think I have ever had strep before. It is not fun. We are all on antibiotics to treat it so we are good for the public domain.

On this day I am relieved. I can sit around and perseverate on something besides cancer. What a gift. I get these little motivational emails every day from my friend Michael. I love today's words of wisdom so I will share.


Today's purpose
+++++++++++++++++++

What is your purpose for this day? What have you chosen to do
with the minutes and hours of this day, a day that is
already flowing into your life?

When you give each day a specific purpose, at the end of
each day you'll have a specific accomplishment. In addition
to having a day that you can look back upon, you'll also
have real, lasting value that you can carry forward.

Today is full of countless possibilities. Giving the day a
purpose will enable you to fulfill the exact possibilities
that align with that purpose.

This day is rich in energy. With a clear purpose, you can
harness that powerful energy and channel it into something
that will make a difference for your world.

There are dreams that you long to achieve. Today is your
opportunity to move solidly toward them.

Give today a purpose -- a rich , wonderful, meaningful
purpose. And live life at its best.

Harpooning

Well there is good news and there is and medium-good news and banal news and bad news and really bad news. Which do you want first? I will take the good news first with a side of onion rings!

I had my third PET scan on January 4th. 2008. Such a crazy test! It is actually measuring how things are doing on a cellular level. The day before you cannot eat any carbs. It is kind of a meat day. Additionally, no strenuous activity so clearly I cannot slaughter my own meat. I have to purchase it at a store.

Anyhow, then you can have nothing after 8pm. No water, no nothing. Your necessary medications are OK in the morning but with 20 ounces of water. Once you arrive at the scanning center (if your bladder hasn't burst) you get to drink two liters of barium. Yum! Yum! and not filling at all! (Go for the Banana over the Vanilla if given the choice.) Once you get the super radioactive sauce shot into your veins you have to remain perfectly still. No gum chewing and no reading. This would make your eyes or your mouth might light up on the scan.

The other weird thing is that the radioactive sauce is in the big metal box and the syringe is in a thick metal sleeve. The tech has 3 radiation exposure markers on her person but it is being mainlined by cancer girl. It is so weird. It makes me feel dirty from the inside out in a Karen Silkwood kind of way. Then you lie on the conveyor belt and you go into the tube. You must remain perfectly still (which is easier said than done.) It is not as long as a MRI but still it is long enough.

You come out, you pee (and it really is radioactive not just B vitamins) and you are on your way. Now you can't be around children or pregnant people for 10-12 hours but you are FINE it is SAFE!!! It is akin to taking direction from Mr. Burns on the Simpson's.

The good news is that every cancer tumor, cell or lesion in my body is either shrinking or slowing down (not up taking estrogen as fast.) Isn't that great? The medium good news is that there was an area that lit up on the PET which was my left armpit node. As we all remember this was the first lump I found in June. The first one is the one that you find and then you get buzzed and have your girlfriend, in my case Kimmie Kilker, feel you up in the Newcastle Golf & Country Club bathroom to give you a second opinion. The girlfriend ALWAYS precedes the physician.

The banal news is that this could be due to an infection process that couples with swollen lymph nodes. The bad news is that it could also be due to the cancer cells in that lymph node becoming Tamoxifen resistant. The really bad news is that the treatment for the bad news is a drug called Faslodex. It is "indicated for the treatment of hormone receptor positive metastatic breast cancer in post-menopausal women with disease progression following anti-estrogen therapy." You know me and the 4 other women on the planet that this applies to. (Yes, Lucinda, I read the entire drug company insert. Now and forever a geek!)

You may be asking why this is such bad news. Well here is why: The effin shot is a harpoon. It could take down a whale. It is about a 16 gauge needle and the drug is the viscosity of honey. It is a 2 minute push in the ass. It is so incredibly uncomfortable. The fabulous oncology nurses do a great job with what they have BUTT it isn't pretty.

Oh and other late breaking good news is that after 2 months of having my CA 27-29 be relatively unchanged (Oct. 75, Nov. 68, Dec. 77) it is down to 51. FIFTY ONE! That is so awesome and definitely worth a pain in the butt every month.