Point for Sarah

I finished my first cycle of chemo (Temodar: 235mg for 5 days - 75% of the maximal dose) on Monday.  Other than my digestive system being really pissed off, some nausea and being tiiireeeeeddd, it went as good as could be expected and I have to say I'm a little relieved.  Cycle 1 down.  11 more to go.

The C-Word: A Rant

I was inspired to write this blog by two other posts I read on PC that really hit home.  Ok, so I know I’ve been positive Sally up to this point.  But I need to get something things off my chest. As a 25- year old cancer patient, there are a lot of things I think about but don’t necessarily say, because it's kind of depressing.  So I’m just going to throw them out there, and hope that maybe some of you can relate.

Some people have said it’s easier if you’re the patient, because as a patient, you do whatever it takes, you find the strength, because at the end of the day, what choice do you have? Cancer is a disease that strips away any sense of control, and I know my family feels helpless.  Like any parent, they wishthey could change it, switch places, or control it, and I’m sure this is not at all what they had in mind.   Although itmay be “easier” to be the patient, I also indirectly carry the weight of my family.

I have THE greatest friends any girl could ask for.  Hands down.  However, I feel completely isolated from my closest friends.  I feel like I’m on another planet – Planet Cancer. Hahaha. Some get it, and others miss the point entirely.  It’s frustrating when I feel like I have to spell it out (to anyone) at least 15 times: “I have cancer. I can’t take an advil, and be better in 3 months.  I’m fighting like hell, because cancer CAN kill, and my cancer is aggressive.”  Maybe I should get a t-shirt or something, or tattoo it on my forehead.  I know everyone is well intentioned, but as a cancer survivor put it so perfectly, I find myself praying they never do have to know.

My friends are going to bed at night thinking about school, exams, and boys, and I’m going to bed at night thinking whether or not I’m going to be around to raise my kids.  At 25, who the hell wants to munch on that pleasant tidbit?  Simple pleasures in life that everyone takes for granted: Having a career, a sweet ass condo, getting married, having kids, grandkids…are now precious life milestones.  If someone would have asked me a year ago, do you plan to have kids? I would have said of course, duh.  Just like other girls my age.  Now that has become a fight.  At 25, cancer is trying to take things from me.   Let’s take a beak from doom and gloom for a moment, I’m not saying I’ll never have a career, get a sweet single-lady pad, get married, or have kids. In fact, I've already decided that cancer is not going to take those things from me. I will have all those things.  My point is I have to fight like hell for them. It’s just more complicated now.

Another sore spot: healthy people with normal lives.  I’m at that age where it seems as though everyone and their dog are moving on with their lives: getting jobs, buying, houses, getting engaged, and getting married. Blah, blah, blah.  This makes me angry, and sad.   This may sound harsh, but of course I am genuinely happy for them.  Of course.  I am a nice person, really.  And it’s not so much an issue of jealously, it’s about me missing, mourning my old life.  Before cancer, I wanted, and was looking forward to all those things too.  Before cancer, I was focused on getting a job, moving out, getting a puppy (a life long dream!), and hitting the town with friends, and soaking it all in…talk about back burner.  My focus now is beating cancer. My “new” normal now consists ofMRI scans, being bffs with my oncology team, and taking 28 pills a day. Who in their right mind would want that?  Forget it! I know eventually I’ll get back there.  I’ll get back to “normal”.  And I know I’ll have all the things I had planned before all of this.  And I look forward to that.  But I still get angry over a life that so quickly changed – cancer didn’t even ask my permission.  Rude.

So to all of you “normal, healthy” people: take nothing for granted. Don’t waste time being angry about the small things – it’s not worth it. Ever. Trust me.  Be thankful for your health, because without it, you have nothing. Tell the people closest to you that you love them.  And every time you do something as simple as brush your hair, go for a run, or have beer at the bar, take a moment.

To be clear: I AM getting on with my life.  I AM looking for a job (I’m thinking Peter Munk Cardiac Center). I AM going to get a condo (I’m thinking Toronto Beaches).  I AM going to get a dog (Feedo – My Mom thought this was the correct pronunciation of “Fido”).  I AM going to get married (Groom: TBA. Now accepting applications) and I WILL have kids (dependent on previous).  Cancer will not bring me to my knees. FigNewton, in case you didn’t know, you’re not paying rent, so get the %&*$ out! Much appreciated, Sarah. 

I’d like to end this rant by saying that I know I have a good prognosis, and I am beyond thankful.  I’m thankful for that everyday.  I know there are people out there who are battling and fighting much worse, and that keeps me fighting.  I’m lucky to have the chance at a “normal” life.   

Grain of Salt

As my day from hell finally came to an end last night, I couldn't sleep.  Although I received good news yesterday about my cancer, I don't want to put the cart before the horse.  Cancer is bullshit, and follows no rules.  It's kind of like a seriously un-obedient child, one that throws food on the floor, throws fits in the grocery store and never sleeps through the night.  Cancer is a battle I fight everyday.  I picture WWIII going on in my brain.  I guess in some way, I always assume the worst, that way I'll never be disappointed.

Although I escaped radiation this time, I have no illusions that I may undergo radiation treatment at some point in my life.  It's important to remember that every patient's response to treatment is different, every patient's tumour is different, and although I have the co-deletion, which is considered favourable, it's simply not as black and white as that.  No one with cancer gets off easy.  And I know that there are people out there who are worse off than me, and that keeps me fighting.     

Quite simply, I'm not out of the woods yet.  I'm thankful and hopeful that I have a favourable diagnosis, because like I said, there are other people out there fighting a tougher battle.  But as my oncologist said yesterday, cancer is incurable.  Although this post may sound negative, I also have to be realistic and face the music.  Of course, I only hope for the best.  That Temodar will do its job and kill relatives of FigNewton the III.  But chemo is it's own battle.  And the more cycles of chemo you undergo, the shittier you feel as the levels of toxicity in your body rise.  I'm undergoing 12 cycles of chemo.  I also don't do vomit.  At all.  So I'm hoping the anti-puke medications are strong enough.  Plus, they don't hand out gold stars for toughing through it.  There's also the concern about my white blood cell count.  My oncologist has to monitor this every month before I can get approved for the next cycle.  Common immune system, we need to hang in there! Need to show this cancer who's boss and hold the line.    

So even though we're all breathing a sigh of relief, I'm not going to get too excited until March when I have my 3 month MRI.  I can't relax yet.  And when the 12 cycles of chemo are over, and I have my first "clean" post-treatment MRI, I will declare victory.  That is my Everest.  

1p19q. 1p19q. 1p19q.

Wednesday January 5th 2011.  I have been dreading this day since I was diagnosed in November.  It felt as though I had to cram in as much of life as I could.  Today I met with my oncologist team at Princess Margaret.  I did not sleep at all last night.  I knew that the results of the genetic testing would ultimately determine my treatment course and my chance at a semi-normal life.  Going back to the hospital today makes it real.  It means I really do have cancer.  Shit. 

8:30 am: Waaaaaayyy to early to be doing anything, let alone be sitting in the waiting room of my neurosurgeon's office.  Because that's exactly where I wanna be right?! Lots of windows though, so that's a nice touch. I'm waiting to hear the results of my post-op MRI on Dec 29th.  Can I just also add that follow-up MRI scans are hell.  If I've said it once, I'll say it again: MRI scans cause sheer emotional turmoil.  When I finally see my neurosurgeon, he tells me I look good (well obvs!), and reads the radiologist's report: the tumour has been completely resected, and there are still signs of lingering inflammation around the surgical cavity.  There are also signs of low-grade cancer cells around the tumour bed - "cancer/abnormal activity".  He also told me that the surgical cavity has filled with some sort of fluid, which he explained was perfectly normal and was not at all concerned. Bottomline: the post-op MRI is as good as it can be.  Finally, some good news! Point for Sarah.

1:30 pm: Blood work.  Story of my life.  I have people in every blood lab in the GTA.  How awesome is that?  I should get a t-shirt made or something. 

3:30pm:  Pulling out the big guns now.  In comes one of my oncologists.  I'm a nervous wreck.  This is it.  Pull it together.  Before I get to the details, let me give some background on the importance of this day.  My cancer cells can have a specific genetic make-up: a 1p19q loss of heterozygosity.  The co-deletion of both 1p19q renders the cancer cells more sensitive to chemotherapy.  The 1p deletion is particularly significant.  I've been anxiously waiting the results of this genetic test for over a month.  Am I looking at chemo? Chemo and radiation? Or radiation? I was hoping to avoid radiation all together.  I didn't really want to go down to the hospital 5 days a week, every day for my sessions.  Plus, radiating my poor brain cannot be good.  And I think everyone knows the side effects of conventional cancer treatment.  So, deep breath.  My oncologist said I have a good prognosis and he would recommend chemotherapy at this time.  I had to ask him a second time.  I have the co-deletion of both 1p and 19q?????!!!!  I know it sounds ridiculous, but I was excited.  I mean if you're going to have cancer right?! Given the results of the genetic testing and my post-op MRI, he prescribed temozolomide for 12 months.  Chemo for one year: 1 pill for 5 days once month, which is all my body can handle.  This drug is generally well-tolerated, although nausea and vomiting can be an issue.  Never mind, they'e got good drugs out there for that shit.  It also crosses the blood brain barrier, and has been effective in treating aggressive brain tumours.  I need to see my oncologist every month for follow-up and blood work, since chemo is destroying all my rapidly dividing cells.  We'll do a scan three months from now to see what's going on, and that will determine what happens next.  This means that if the tumour were to ever come back, I have radiation in my back pocket.  More arsenal to fight FigNewton the III. Bastard.  So I feel like a dodged a major hurdle today and I'm crossing my fingers that I respond to chemo.  My oncology team fully expects that my scan in 3 months will be stable.   

 So that's my update.  I'd have to say I'm relieved.  Finally, some good news.  Finally things are turning up Sarah.  I feel confident that I can and will beat this.  However, I also know the race, the battle is not yet won.  It's still a long road, and even though the news today is a step in the right direction, cancer is an unpredictable bitch, and I gotta stay on high alert.  I start chemo tomorrow.  Sarah vs. Cancer Round 1. Let's box.   

FigNewton the III

November 23 2010.  That was the day I was diagnosed with a brain tumour.  FigNewton the III.  Time stopped for me that day.  Looking back, I don't remember much from that day.  It was a blur.  I remember the ER doctor telling me it was likely malignant.  And I couldn't breathe.  

I guess this really all started in Amsterdam.  I had just completed my Masters in Physiology and as a graduation present to myself I went on a 5 weeks trip to Europe.  13 countries in 28 days.  A-MAZING!!  It was our last night on tour and all 41 of us were going out for one last night on the town.  And that's pretty much the last thing I remember because I had a seizure on the way to the bar.  I definitely freaked everyone out.  So my last night in Amsterdam was spent in the hospital.  They told me it was likely epilepsy or exhaustion, and that I should get checked out when I got home.  I initially thought it was nothing. And then I had another seizure on Nov 23rd.  Luckily my younger brother was home that day, and he drove me to the hospital.  After some blood work, a neurological exam, and medical history (I also have Ulcerative Colitis), they did a CT.  There were abnormalities in my CT, and so I was sent for a MRI.  I am wicked claustrophobic.  Bottomline, I hate, hate, hate, hate MRIs.  I've learned my lesson and I take a sedative before my scans.  When they showed me the scan, I could see this little ball in my left frontal lobe.  Not good.  A brain tumour.  A what? Are they talking to me?? It was like a bad dream.  After I found out, I cried.  I couldn't believe this was happening to me.  

I had a consult with my surgeon the very next day, and I was scheduled for surgery on Nov. 26 2010.  Hold the phone. Brain surgery?? Whoa, whoa, whoa.  There wasn't a lot of time to twiddle my thumbs, and I guess that's a good thing. My surgery was under two hours and they were able to remove the tumour entirely.  Audios FigNewton the III, you SOB.  I felt like a million bucks after surgery and so it was back to life as normal.

A few days later, I met with my oncology team at Princess Margaret Hospital.  Grade 3 Oliogdendroglioma.  I'm 25 and I have brain cancer. I'm 25 and I have brain cancer.  Did I miss something here?  But then, in the days following, something changed.  I felt differently about my diagnoses.  And I decided from that point on that I was going to be positive.  I looked at my diagnosis as a challenge. Just something else I have to do.  A boxing match.  Failure not an option.  Yes, I'm a 25 year old cancer patient, but let me tell you something cancer, you picked the wrong chick.  Don't get me wrong, I have moments where I feel overwhelmed and the weight is too much.  But I refuse to be a statistic.  And I refuse to let this define me.  There a lot of things out of my control, but I'm making a conscious effort to control the things I can, whether it be diet and regular bonding time with the treadmill.

So here goes my journey with cancer. Round 1.  And the aftermath that follows.

Green Tea Anyone?

Alright, so.  After the whirlwind diagnosis and surgery to my poor head, the so-called "cancer aftermath" as I like to call it, I went through a period where I basically ate whatever I wanted.  Eating like it was my last supper or something.  Clearly not a productive attitude and definitely not figure friendly!  Before I got sick I had pretty clean eating habits, if I do say so myself.  Heart disease runs in our family, and so I was always conscious of what I ate.  I am also a runner.  10ks are my thing.  So I thought I was pretty healthy, considering the fast food crisis western society seems to be suffering from.  Then I got cancer. At first, I didn't do any reading.  Call it denial, refusing to acknowledge what was happening or maybe just the need to go on with life as normal.  Unlike my web-addicted Mother, I stayed away from books, and the internet...I guess I just didn't wanna know.  It was bad enough that I had cancer, they can stick the stats where the sun don't shine, thanks very much.  Anyways bottom line here is, the situation sucked enough as it was, so bring on the dessert!!

I was feeling pretty good about all this, until I had to buy a size up in my jeans.  THAT is tragic. I decided I needed to reign myself in.  That, coupled with that fact that a close friend happened to mention how powerful the foods we eat can be.  Well, duh, obviously...I knew that.  Turns out I didn't.  I ended up meeting with this close friend's mother, who is very into naturopathic medicine.  She recommended raw fruits and veggies, juicing, no diary, no meat, no sugar....basically a diet completely opposite of the traditional western diet.

Knowledge is power, so I decided to do some research of my own.  I am now totally convinced that the foods I eat will help me fight cancer.  Everyone's body is designed to fight.  That's what our immune systems are for.  From what I understand, the problem with sneaky cancer cells is they are, for whatever reason, not recognized by our immune system.  These cancer cells take over our body's native mechanisms for their own gain. Greedy assholes.  And boom, you have a tumour.  What I've learned is, I can help activate/boost my immune system fight cancer by eating certain foods.  I can reduce inflammation, starve the cancer cells, prevent the cancer cells from growing new blood vessels, and promote cancer cell death (mwahahaha!) all by changing my diet.  If I give my immune system what it needs, it can be strong and do it's job, which is simple: KILL CANCER.  Get those NK cells on high alert!

So my refrigerator has had an overhaul.  It's pretty much an organic grow-op.  Beets and broccoli have replaced diary and milk.  Kale and brussels have taken over.  And there's plenty of celery, peppers, brussels, tomatoes...oh and let's not forget the spinach.  There's also a jug of brownish-green liquid.  That ladies and gentlemen is veggie juice.  What's in it?  Almost every cancer-fighting veggie known to man.  With a little garlic and ginger for good measure.  I've learned my lesson though, I always have a chaser of juice ready.  That stuff will clean you out and make your eyes water.  Next to my magical anti-cancer veggie deliciousness, is a jug of pure fruit juice.  I much prefer the fruit juice to be honest, it has all the essential berries, tangerines (with the skin), poms, apples, plums and more...mmmm delicious!  I have both fridges in my house packed full.  I'm also a snacker.  No more cheese and crackers.  My snacks now consist of fruit salad, or a bowl of raw veggies.  Mmmmm broccoli.  YES PLEASE!!!  I also now take forever in the grocery store, because I try to buy all organic.  So ya, that's my anti-cancer diet.  Raw fruits and veggies, and a lot of juicing.  Oh, and of course I can't forget lots turmeric, rosemary and olive oil!!! 

I'm going to do whatever I can to fight cancer.  Radiation, chemo, diet, the whole nine yards.  And really, eating more veggies can't hurt right?

So drink your green tea people, it really does do the body good.  Cheers!