Pre Chemo

Hi Everyone,
I had my PET scan on Friday. It was similar to a CAT scan, except instead of ingesting a contrast solution, I was injected with a radioactive sugar solution and left to rest for an hour while it traveled throughout my body. Then I went into the imaging tube, along with an iPod for needed distraction (thanks to my pal Amy Anderson who loaded up a great mix of stories and music). Apparently, the sugar solution makes any part of your body with rapidly producing (cancerous) cells light right up. Dr. Wakelee from Stanford ordered this test to establish a baseline of how far the cancer has progressed to this date. I will learn the results likely on Monday.

On Thursday, I took another trip to Stanford along with Josh, my sister Wendy, and dear friend Amy Tannous (who graciously drove us all) to attend a workshop called "Understanding and Managing Your Chemotherapy." It was great to have members of my support team there to learn along with me what I can expect from this next stage of the journey. The workshop was taught by an amazing oncology infusion nurse who was able to give specific feedback on the drugs I will be taking (cisplatin, adriamycin, cytoxan). She repeated what I'd been told by Dr. Wakelee, that this is a difficult regimen with many anticipated side effects, and agreed it would be best to receive my treatments close to home. She also told me that my treatments would likely take about seven hours each time.

Dr. Blair and I spoke by phone Friday and he's going to admit me to the hospital this Tuesday to undergo my first round of chemo. He said it's a precautionary measure, to make sure that I'm monitored closely and given adequate fluids. The Cisplatin is known to cause extreme nausea even with anti-nausea drugs, and there is a risk of kidney damage if I become dehydrated. If I were to have kidney problems, then I'd be less eligible to continue with chemo. Going to the hospital seems like a logical choice, so I'm getting geared up for a stay of anywhere up to three days. Dr. Blair says that if I respond well during this first round, then I may be able to continue my future treatments on an out-patient basis in his office.

I was mistaken when I thought the treatment plan was once a week for three weeks. Actually, it will be once every three weeks. Based on what I now know to expect from these drugs, I'm relieved about this. So the plan is for me to finish two rounds of chemo, get another PET scan, then do another two rounds, followed by surgery at Stanford.

We shared this part of the news with Camryn and Hayden over breakfast at Pancake Circus (Hayden’s choice) on Saturday. At the advice of their school psychologist as well as the books I’d gotten at Stanford, we kept it pretty simple. In case anyone wants to explain it to their own small kids or finds themselves talking to Camryn and Hayden, I thought it would be helpful for you know how we phrased it. The story went something like this:

“All the tests and x-rays Mommy had to get done showed the same thing — there’s a lump in my chest that shouldn’t be there. It’s called cancer. Cancer can show up in many different ways — like skin cancer that Papa Rudy has had, cancer that Olivia & Camille’s papa had, and all sorts of other kinds people we know have also recovered from. But the important thing to remember is that cancer is not contagious, Mommy didn’t catch it from anyone, and it is nobody’s fault that there’s a lump in my chest. It just showed up.

“Thankfully, we have the very best doctors and they know exactly how to help me get better. There is special liquid medicine that I need to take at the hospital — called chemo — to shrink the lump so it gets smaller and smaller, like when you suck on a lollipop. The medicine will go directly into my arm. Even though the medicine is going to help me get better, it will also make me feel pretty sick like I have the stomach flu. And it has another crazy side effect — get this — it’s going to make me as bald as a baby! (The kids’ eyes both lit up and they smiled a little at the very thought of this.) So I’ve decided to wear a wig and hats until I’m done taking the medicine and my hair grows back.

“Things are going to be a little different while I get better — like I’ll need lots of extra rest, and I have to stay away from germy places for a while so I can’t work in your classrooms. But we want you to know we’ll have lots of help to keep things as close to normal for you both as we possibly can. You can help out by reminding everyone to wash their hands, and showing people where to find things in our house when they visit us. And anytime you have questions, or if you feel sad, or hear somebody say something about Mommy being sick that you don’t understand, I want you to promise to come to us and talk about it. That’s exactly what we’re here for. Lots of people are praying for me and for you, so that we’ll all get through this as easily as possible.”

There were no tears from me or Josh (thank God!), and neither of the kids had any questions. They just slurped up their hot chocolates and gobbled down their breakfasts as usual. But we continue to talk about it casually around the house and they’ve started to as well. So it’s becoming part of our “new normal,” as my friend Shannon suggested it would.

Please share this note with anyone who's asked for updates. I also want to say a huge thank you to everyone for your prayers, cards, care packages, meals, hugs and good thoughts during this unbelievably crazy time. It just warms my heart every time I'm reminded of how much love and support surrounds me and my family. And that helps me to be stronger than I ever thought I could be.

With love,
Angela