Two Months After Treatment

Two months after treatment, and Mom is feeling pretty good. It seems like most of the side effects of the radiation and chemotherapy have abated. he is still tired most of the time, very little energy.

She's eating better, which is good. She's smoking again, which is bad.

Mom will probably be upset that I am telling everyone, but at the beginning of this blog, I said that we are all in this together. Nothing has changed there. I PRAY that she will quit right away!

In August, we had a family reunion at Andy's. It was a great time and Mom really enjoyed it. But after that, I think the stress of not having a place to move into got to her. Her apartment will be ready October 1st, so I'm hoping that then she can settle down and focus on her health and happiness.

Right now, it's all in her hands.

So... Was It All Worth It?

Mom had the final follow-up with the specialists in Vancouver last week.

They're happy! The main tumour is shrinking (apparently it will still be a while until we see how much it has shrunk), and the chemotherapy wiped out the small tumours on the lymph nodes.

Her blood pressure is down to 90/60... so, she can wean herself off her blood pressure medications.

On the strictly clinical side, that's about it. She is to follow up with an xray every 3 months. So long as no new tumours appear, and the main one (I keep wanting to say big one, but I'm trying to use positive phrasing) doesn't grow, she's in great shape.

Mom has lost a lot of weight in the last year. She's down to 112 pounds, and for those who haven't seen her for a while, it'll be a bit of a shock. Between the treatments and putting her back out, she hasn't been moving a whole bunch. Her muscles are very wasted, making her look quite frail.

Her hair is starting to grow back, but very little and very slowly (from the side, she looks so much like how I remember her dad!). Just a little fuzz right now.

I've been on her quite a lot to walk. Even a little bit! She resists, and I'm not sure why. I know this last time I was with her, her back was very sore, but this has been going on for a long time. Hopefully, getting the good news from her oncologists will be motivation to get her body strong enough for any new fight that comes along!

As for me, I'm cautiously optimistic. If I'd had my druthers, her follow up examination would have been far more comprehensive - not just an xray. I'd have liked to have heard how much the tumour had shrunk - for some reason, they didn't have this information readily available (?!)
But, mom is asking for all her file info and I hope to take a look at it soon.

Mom is still focussed on fighting the cancer, and she's determined - at least mentally. Now we just have to get that same energy in the physical side!!

This weekend is our family reunion, I'll post some photos then if you're interested.

Again, in Mom's own words...

I have at last reached the end of the chemo sessions and
glad to be done. Now, just a three week wait and then to
see what the oncologists have to say. I am praying for good
results.

I have not been having good days and today is no exception.
The throat is very sore but the appetite is still there. It takes a
long time to eat a meal.

One more month and we will be off the island and on our way
to being closer to family and friends. I am really looking forward
to that.

Ending on that note, prayers and good thoughts are much
appreciated and very uplifting. Thank you all.

We Thought We Were Getting Ready To Coast

It looks like we're still slogging uphill.

Mom missed her appointment on Monday, was it something she ate?

Anyway, she went to get her bloodwork on Tuesday, hoping to continue chemotherapy - her last week!! But, it was not to be.

Mom's bloodcount was so incredibly low! The doctor prescribed daily injections of B12 and folate (I think that's it).

Now, here's where things get weird. On Wednesday, Mom went to get those prescriptions filled at the grocery store... her oncologist from Victoria just happened to call right then! Mom had to go straight to the hospital for a blood transfusion!! Two units!

It's not that uncommon, and they are fighting the cancer very agressively. I think the trouble is with having 'too many cooks'. If everything has to clear through Victoria before they do what's best, isn't it Mom who suffers? And isn't the goal to make her better?

Lesson learned. Mom is going to be much more vocal (under my stern instructions!) about any issues that affect her. And they all do.

So, we continue on, and hope that next week her body will be up for the one last uphill fight! Wish her luck.

Will Next Week Really Be Enough?

Well, Mom's just about done.

That's not to say is was easy. It wasn't.

This last round of chemotherapy really challenged her. They had changed her anti-nausea medication (remember, these come with their own side effects), and they put her in a strange dissociate state. She wasn't nauseous, just not quite there.

That's not to say it was horrible. It wasn't.

Mom says she's eating well, and her energy level is improving. She certainly doesn't cough like she did before treatment! Her throat still hurts, but not as much.

So, we have one more round of chemotherapy next week. Pretty sure she'll feel terrible again. Pretty sure that'll pass and then it's the countdown to July 22nd, when we hear if the treatments had any effect on the cancer.

Send your love and good thoughts, they mean a lot!

Still Waiting... but calmer

Talked to Mom this weekend, she is sounding strong. Her throat is still bothering her, but less than it was. Her appetite is coming back, she says (Not that I think she would lie, but I sometimes worry that she thinks she's protecting her kids by putting a positive spin on things...)

Tomorrow, she's going back to Campbell River Hospital to get her bloodwork done, and hopefully continue on with her chemotherapy. I am still amazed at how far we've come; from dreading the thought of it, to being impatient!

Mom has embraced baldness!! Yesterday, she and Joe went to tour a new golf course, and she didn't even realize she was uncovered. Progress!

A tiny update, I know, but at this point, it's all I've got. I promise, when I hear anything, you'll be first to know.

Waiting ... waiting ... waiting

We had been hoping that Mom could continue with her chemotherapy treatment this week. She had her blood work done, and everything looks nice and strong on paper.

Trouble is, her esophagus is still burning from the radiation (apparently her back and collarbone are too). The doctors want to give her a little more time to heal before they start again.

So, we wait another week, and see how she's feeling. Right now, she's feeling tired. I'm sure she's physically tired, and mentally tired. It's hard to get all pumped and ready to fight, then be told to slow down and ... wait.

If you hadn't already noticed, that seems to be the recurring theme of this little story ... wait. We wait for diagnosis ... we wait for the treatment plan ... we wait to heal ... we wait for results (July 22nd is when Mom is scheduled to go back to Victoria for a follow up consultation).

On the positive side, Mom says she's gained 6 1/2 pounds since I last saw her (8 days)! I think that's great news, her body needs all the help it can get in this fight!

So, people, unless something extraordinary happens, the next post will be early next week. In the meantime, we all ... wait.

In Fern's Own Words...

I have been home for a week today.

It was great fun to come home with Andy and Donna, and for a bonus, Larry and my granddaughter Raven showed up for the weekend. I hated to see them leave.

As much as I enjoy being at home, I have to admit I miss the social interaction with the other people at the lodge in Victoria. It was great fun to spend the evening yakking up a storm with the others and trying to complete a jigsaw puzzle at the same time. Not an easy task.

The nurse for chemo called yesterday and it sounds as though they will start the next three-day session on Monday depending on the blood count. Hopefully, it will be good and I can get these treatments over with. I am feeling well and have not had any fevers so I think it will be okay.

Once again, the support and prayers you all have sent have been great. Thank you.

A Milestone - 30 Sessions of Radiation!

Well, she did it! Mom completed the prescribed 30 sessions of radiation therapy, with only a two-day break. Huge accomplishment!!

Now she will rest for two weeks, then have 3 days of chemotherapy. After another two week rest, she will have the final 3 days of chemotherapy. And that's it... right? She'll be cured?

Cancer is a tricky thing. It's very hard to be absolutely certain that you're 'cured'. The experts prefer to use the term 'remission'. This means that the disease isn't active. Complete remission is where the disease disappears completely with the treatment. Partial remission is where the disease shrinks but does not disappear completely with the treatment. It takes a few years of being in remission before they'll say, "Mrs. Peterson, you're cured". So, we wait.

Actually, we have to wait anyway. They won't know for quite some time whether the treatments were effective. So right now, we go on how Mom is feeling. And the good news is that she's feeling really good. She is clear-eyed and walking steadily. Her positive attitude shines through, and it's wonderful to be around her.

Mom and Joe have listed their house for sale in Sayward and plan to move to the mainland (anyone know of a small-town place they could rent?)

Back on the Upswing

Just talked to Mom this morning. She's still in the hospital in Victoria, but no longer in 'reverse isolation'. And she's had three radiation treatments this week! That means she's only got 5 more to go... fingers crossed.

If her blood count is high enough, she'll get to go home for the weekend, then back to the Lodge next week. They are going to wait for a few weeks to resume chemotherapy, make sure her white blood cell count is really strong.

They've also given her a new 'thing' called Throat Freeze (or something like that). She swishes that in her mouth then swallows. It's giving her a lot of relief, and I think that's helping to bring back her positive attitude. As you can imagine, it was a little bit on weak side this week...

Uncle Lloyd (Mom's brother) has been in Victoria to see her, that has meant a huge amount to Mom. The meaning and value of family sure becomes apparent during a crisis.

I'll be seeing Mom next week, so will post again soon.

Just a Quick Update

Mom's doctor phoned me today, said (bad news) that she'll probably be in 'reverse isolation' for 10 days, either in Campbell River or Victoria. And although her white blood cell count is very low and she had a fever, (good news) there is no infection. They'll keep her on antibiotics until the white blood cell count improves.

Latest news, she will be transferred by ambulance tonight to the Royal Jubilee Hospital in Victoria. No news on whether or when she will be resuming the cancer treatments, I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it's soon!

A Little Setback

While Mom has been sailing through her treatments, relatively speaking, a bit of 'real' life...

On Sunday, Mom had a bit of a fever. Because of the depleted white blood cells, this is important. Her body just doesn't have the strength to fight off any infections. So, she and Joe made the trek to Campbell River Hospital to get checked out. Her white blood cell count was low enough that they decided to keep her there.

After each chemotherapy treatment, your white cell count will begin to fall. It will be at its lowest at the mid-point between treatments. For example, if you have treatment every 3 weeks, then your lowest counts will be at about 10 days after your chemotherapy injections. This is called the 'nadir' (pronounced na-deer). When your white cell count is at its lowest, you will probably feel very tired. Some people also say they feel depressed at this time. After the nadir, the level of white blood cells will gradually improve until it is almost back to normal. Then, it will be time for your next chemotherapy treatment and they will go down again. It is no wonder that many people feel as if they are on a rollercoaster, emotionally as well as physically, when having chemotherapy.

I called the hospital, and they are trying to get her admitted to the Royal Jubilee Hospital in Victoria so she can continue her radiation treatments - I know how important this is to Mom. She wants to keep her cancer-fighting plan, so any change is heartbreaking!

So, for now she's in Campbell River, in a 'reverse isolation' room. That means that anyone who goes into the room must wear a mask and a gown to prevent the risk of any bad germs getting to Mom. She can't take calls, so it really is 'isolated'.

Her esophagus is starting to really bother her (it's so close to where she's being treated with the radiation), so eating is a bit of a chore. There was talk of maybe taking a break from the radiation if it got too bad, so maybe we should look at that as a silver lining...?

I'll keep you all posted as I hear more.

Week 4 - The Halfway Point

Well, as some parts of this fight get easier, some get harder.

This week, the plan was for Mom to have radiation treatment everyday, and chemotherapy Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. But first, we have to see the oncologist on Monday, who will approve or deny this plan based on her bloodwork. If her blood count is too low, it would just be too hard on her.

Harder... When we saw the oncologist, she still hadn't received the blood test results, which had been done 2 hours earlier. She said that's not a good sign; when the blood count is low they have to do a manual count, which is probably why it's delayed. Probably better to delay chemotherapy a week...

It doesn't seem like a big deal, but at the time, it's huge. We know when her last treatment is (chemotherapy in Campbell River Thursday, May 22nd), and how long she'll be staying at the Lodge (until Thursday, May 2nd). The thing that makes all of this bearable is that we know what to expect now, and when to expect it!

It turned out okay, we got to continue on the way we expected (her blood count was actually very strong), and we finished another session of chemotherapy. Again, no bad side effects, just a little sleeplessness and lack of appetite.

Harder, but then easier... This was the week that Mom's hair started to fall out. She was dog-sitting on the weekend for Joe's nephew, Guy, and his wife, Creole. (They have been an incredible source of support for Mom and for me - I get weepy just thinking about how much easier it's been with them there!) Anyway, Mom comes out of the shower... "Joe, that dog has been on my towel! Her hair is all over it!" Joe takes a look, "Well, Fern, that doesn't look like her hair... I think that's your hair."

So, we went to the salon at the Cancer Clinic to get Mom's wig. And she decided it's time to get rid of her hair. The lady obliged, and even though she was very nice, it was pretty emotional. Mom couldn't look at herself for a full 24 hours. But, when she finally did, she laughed. And she gets lots of compliments on her wig. The morning after she had shaved her head, she came downstairs for a visit... I couldn't pinpoint what was wrong, but she just didn't look right. Somehow, she had put her wig on so cockeyed, it was covering one ear and halfway up her head on the other side! She's gotten much better at it, thank goodness!!

Easier... The only other story, really, would be her radiation treatments. Last time I was there, for her first treatments, she would get changed and come to the waiting room all wrapped up in her gown and robe tied snugly around her. This time... not so much. Out of the change room she struts, no robe, the gown tied only at the neck and floating gently behind her. No fear!! (I found myself still holding my breath when that red light was on.)

I do think the treatments are getting to her a bit. She's having a bit of trouble swallowing, and her appetite is waning. But she hasn't lost any more weight, and her spirits are good. She knows there is someone up there looking out for her (her mom, she thinks) that is making this fight as easy as it's been for her so far. Thank you, Gramma!

Another week over

Well, Mom made it through another week - this one was just radiation. JUST radiation... boy, how quickly we get used to things.

I think this week might have been a little harder for Mom... she didn't have the drugs that they used to fight the chemotherapy side effects. These drugs gave her energy, and increased her appetite. So, she's been sleeping more and eating less. Not great, but in no way bad news.

She met with her radiation oncologist on Thursday. He told her, "You're going to be okay. I would not put you through this otherwise". Mom was so excited! We're choosing this to mean that she will be cured, or at least put into such deep remission that we don't see that ugly cancer for many years.

I wanted to mention a bit more about the Vancouver Island Lodge. Mom shares a room there with a lady fighting cancer, and everyone there has a similar story. It gives Mom a lot of comfort and optimism to be there. There are volunteers everywhere who will do just about anything for you. They pick Mom up in Campbell River at 7:00am Monday morning, and drop her off late Friday afternoon, they shuttle her back and forth between the Lodge and the Cancer Centre as many times as she needs to go. And they're volunteering!

The Lodge's cafeteria is open 24 hours. She can go in any time and get a sandwich (they're all portioned in halves, so no one feels pressured to eat more than they can, or to feel wasteful), a drink or some fruit (Mom was REALLY into the banana bread pudding when I was there). They serve 3 hot meals everyday, where it feels like a social event.

It has felt really strange this week not being with Mom. You put so much of yourself into researching, and being there, and then you're not. So, I catch myself noting the time when I know Mom will be having her snack, or when the volunteer van is picking her up, and thinking about her. Which is what we're all doing here on this blog, whether I'm writing, or you're reading. We're all thinking about her, and wishing her well. Who knew you really could send love over the internet?

In Fern's Own Words

Hi, thought I might try to think of something for the blog. But what?

The most scarey part is over. I know I still may get sick from the chemo and tired from both chemo and radiation but at least I know what they are going to do to me. Not knowing is far worse than knowing.

Having Donna with me through the first cycle has been a Godsend. Just to have some one to hold onto. She has been a big support for both of us. I will miss having her with me this coming week but she will be back for the next round of chemo.

All the e/mails and comments on the blog are also great support and it's wonderful to know that people care. Many thanks for the prayers and comments. Thank you to all for the wonderful support. I may notbe cured by this but I know they will shrink it enough that I will be ableto be around for another ten or twelve years.

The First Week of Treatment

First of all, the Vancouver Island Lodge is a godsend! Mom is loving the social element. Everyone there knows exactly what she's going through, and almost everyone is there to fight it. She's getting far more moral support than I can give her. And it shows.

Mom is eating better than I've seen in a long time. For example, lunch yesterday included tomato soup, ham & cheese quiche, stir-fried zucchini & mushrooms, a glass of milk and banana bread pudding for dessert. And she ate it all!

We started with radiation therapy. The waiting room is right outside the treatment rooms. Mom is directed to a change room where she exchanges her sweater for a hospital gown. She then comes and sits in the waiting room until she's called. Into the treatment room she goes, where she's layed down on her back with her arms above her head. "Now, don't move!"

I sit in the waiting room and watch as the lights above the door come on. Solid green as they are getting her into position, then flashing green means everything is ready, then a solid red as the radiation is administered. In Mom's case, the red light comes on for 20 seconds, 3 times; one for each angle that the oncologist has mapped out. The whole thing only takes about 15 minutes, then she gets changed, and we head downstairs for chemotherapy.

Now, this is the scary part! We've all heard about how horrible chemotherapy is - blistered feet, mouth sores, intense nausea, endless vomiting, hair loss... the list goes on and on. So, with sweaty palms (or is this a side effect too?) we go to check in. We're led to a vinyl recliner (one of 12). Mom gets comfy, with her arm on a pillow. The nurse puts a heating pad on her arm.

For the first treatment, Mom has to bring the prescribed anti-nauseants with her. She takes 2 little star-shaped pills and an oblong one. These are supposed to help her tummy. An IV is started in her left wrist, with a saline drip. Once they start the actual drugs (2 different kinds, one after the other), there are lots of questions to make sure she doesn't have an allergice reaction - dizzy? any funny feeling? And to make sure the IV isn't leaking - does it burn? (um, what?! oh yeah, it'll burn your skin like acid! oh well, good thing it's just going into my blood then...)

Mom's particular chemotherapy is supposed to take about 1 1/2 hours, but in our vast experience (2 visits), it always take another hour. Not that anyone is dawdling, it's just a very complicated process that nobody wants to rush through.

Once we're all done treatments for the day, it was almost anticlimactic... Mom didn't get sick, she didn't get sore mouth, so now what do we do? We were so prepared for the hard part, it's like maybe it didn't work...

We were in Mom's room (she is sharing with a lady getting treatment for breast cancer). Mom comes out of the bathroom, "Donna! Look at my mouth! It looks like I'm wearing lipstick!" I agreed, she had bright red lips, "We can check with the nurse when we go downstairs, maybe that's how the mouth sores start..." Orrrr... maybe it's the red lip balm Rhonda gave you...!

So, we're heading into the last treatments this week, Mom is more optimistic than you can imagine, everything is flowing along smoothly... we'll keep our fingers crossed for the next 11 weeks.

The Consultation with the Cancer Clinic

Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Vancouver Island Cancer Agency

Mom and I went for her first consultation at the Cancer Clinic.

Before we went upstairs, we stopped in quickly to look at wigs (Mom is secretly hoping that her hair DOES fall out – it’s supposed to come in curly!). What we saw was encouraging, but who knew that Mom’s head is an “Ultra-Petite”?!

We were ushered into an examining room, where a Care Aide came to take Mom’s blood pressure (a little high 114/80), and her weight (up 5 to 119 lbs – a net loss of about 15 lbs). When Mom proudly mentions that she hasn’t had a cigarette in two weeks, Ms. Care Aide delivers a fiery speech on how smoking isn’t the only thing that causes Cancer, and how she’s seen a lot of other things do worse! After she leaves, Mom leans over and whispers, giggling, “She’s a smoker!” Gee, Mom, you think? Too funny!

We first met with the Medical Oncologist who would be administering the chemotherapy. She explained:

There will be Radical (high dose) Radiation. Monday to Friday for 6 weeks. Only done in Victoria.
There will be 4 sessions (2 – 3 hours) of Chemotherapy every 3 weeks.
The first 2 sessions of Chemotherapy will be done in Victoria while she’s receiving the Radiation, then the last 2 sessions can be done in Campbell River.
Mom will be given two Chemotherapy drugs: Cisplatin and Etoposide Injection.
Mom was prescribed two very strong anti-nauseant drugs, and one milder one.

Chemotherapy has plenty of side effects, just Google the drug names.

Then we met with the Radiation Oncologist who would be shooting radiation right through that nasty Cancer. He explained:

Mom would have to come to Victoria for a CT Planning Session. This is where they carefully plot out the best angles to apply the radiation beams (is that what they’re called?).
She will be lying on her back with her arms up to give them maximum exposure to the damaged lung.
They will place 3 tiny tattoos on her to mark the spots.
Each session will last about 30 minutes, although the actual radiation is only 2 – 3 minutes.

Side effects:
Very tired
Cough (a little bit ironic, don’t you think?)
Esophagus might get a little bit of radiation, so swallowing might be hard
Red/sore skin

He stressed that all of these side effects are very temporary!

The Radiation Therapy is the ‘big gun’ in this battle. The hope is that it will kill the cancer in the lungs, and the Chemotherapy ‘has its back’. It will kill any cancer cells that are in her body.

Chance of cure is 20%... one in five…not the most glowing forecast…

But, I’ll tell you this. Mom wholly intends to be that one! I am constantly amazed and gratified at how strongly she is facing this new enemy. And we’re all right beside her.

The story thus far...

Mom started smoking 55 years ago. In January, she was diagnosed with Stage 3A Adenocarcinoma of the lung. Coincidence? Doesn’t really matter at this point, does it? No time for judgments or self-recriminations; we are all faced with the biggest fight of Mom’s life, and the biggest fight of her seven kids’. We’re all in this together.

This latest story started Thanksgiving weekend of 2007. Mom had been feeling very cold all weekend. Early Sunday morning, she had a terrifying fainting spell that sent Andy flying up the stairs as though he had wings (boy, that guy can move when he’s scared!). Emergency room doctor sent her home with “That blood you’re coughing up – just the dry air!” We all wanted to believe it, but didn’t. Made her promise to see her own family doctor when she got home. She did – pneumonia. But, the good doctor is thinking, “Hmmm, long time smoker presents with pneumonia… let’s just run a few tests”. Thank you, Doctor!

In November, an X-ray of the right lung shows a funny spot – a mass. A mass… what does that even mean?!

CT Scan shows a collapsed upper lobe, and some little spots in the lymph nodes. Things aren’t looking so good. The needle biopsy comes back negative, so why is everyone still looking so serious?

Because, in our heart of hearts we knew it was that darned C word! Mom met with the Thoracic Surgeon to discuss the next step, a bronchial biopsy. He looked her in the eye, What do you think, Mrs. Peterson?” She looked right back at him, “I think I have Cancer”.

This is confirmed with the biopsy in January, 2008. Mom was given general anaesthetic, and a small cut was made at the base of her throat. This gave the surgeon access to the ‘mass’, and other trouble spots. Mom came out of the hospital hungry! Very quick recovery and very good spirits. It was the sitting and waiting that was the hardest. Every step taken felt like progress.

Diagnoses of the biopsies – 3 biopsies, 3 positive for Cancer. Adenocarcinoma, which is a non-small cell lung cancer (NSCLC). She’s probably had it for 12-18 months, relatively slow growing. It’s inoperable, because it’s in her lymph nodes, her subcarinal node between the lungs, and she has a history of health problems (she has a perfectly logical reason for each of her heart attacks). The surgeon recommends radiation and chemotherapy, and will refer her to the Victoria Cancer agency

And, so it begins. The word with the capital C is no longer forbidden. Our foe now has a name. Now we can begin to fight! Well, we can as soon as we can get an appointment…