Attitude of Gratitude

You know, cancer is about taking it day by day. Some days are “good” and others are “meh.” I have Cycle 3 of my chemo cocktail tomorrow.

I celebrated the Jewish New Year at my apartment with my parents. We had yummy food… which I couldn’t really taste (insert eye roll). We had some nice family time. I’m grateful for that.

Earlier that week I underwent Gamma Knife “surgery.” I am grateful to be able to have had that option. Many do not.  As I mentioned in my previous post, the doctor at the hospital found a tiny spot of cancer in my brain. I was really nervous about the Gamma Knife. The mask they made me freaked me out. Being “bolted” down to the table freaked me out. Yeah, I just was freaked out. LOL. It wasn’t as bad though! They let me keep my mask and I legit did not hear anything. I had classical music on. A doorbell rang when the procedure was done. However, they did find some suspicious blood vessels they took care of too. I’ll have a scan in three months to see how things looks. 

Speaking of scans… Cycle 3 means I have my first scans coming up since starting treatment! Woo hoo! I’m curious to see how things looks. Are things stable? Did the cancer get worse? I’m hopeful it’s stable and we can continue on with the rest of the cycles. 

I’m grateful for no hospital stay this round. I’m grateful for feeling a bit “normal.” I had energy to cook my parents lunch today! I couldn’t taste it but they said it was yummy. I also did some work from home this cycle! It was extremely fatiguing but great at the same time.

We are all going through a lot during this difficult time in our lives with COVID and the state of the nation. Your trials and tribulations are no less than important than anyone else’s. Remember to keep going. Keep counting your blessings. Keep the hope. It’s a new season. Anything can happen. Sending love and light.

xoxo Jess

 

The Cancer Coaster Returns-Chemo #1

The cancer journey isn’t always as straight forward as a baseball game. You’re not always rounding the bases to get to home plate. Sometimes you have to step off the field and go ride the cancer coaster. If you went with me on my first cancer journey, in 2016, I spoke a lot about the cancer coaster.  Well, that’s what I went on and had to ride again. It pulled into the gate and I buckled up. Chemo. Cycle 1. 

My first infusion is long and normal. I was a bit worried as my first time around I had chemo weekly. Weekly means a lower dose. This time around I am going for Taxotere, Herceptin and Perjeta infusions every three weeks… which means stronger and larger doses. 

I felt just really tired the first night. I went into work Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Yay JZ! However, you know those horror movies where monsters grow out of your forehead? Well, that’s what my head felt like Wednesday and Thursday. I also had extreme bone pain and was losing my taste. Those side effects are familiar friends which are just not fun. The other friend who returned to say, “Hi!” was the acne rash. It's just horrifying to look at. Think of your worst breakout as a teen and multiply that by three! Can you picture it? Yup, that was me. That Friday I woke up unable to move and miserable. I called out. For those of you who know me, I like to work. I am not a fan of resting. My goal was to be at work on September 1 for the launch of “News Nation.” That didn’t happen.

Why? Well it all began with what I thought was a UTI. TMI? Oh well. This is what life fighting cancer is like. It’s a side effect and I thought I had one. I worked Monday night but spiked a 100.3 fever. I updated my team and I went in last Tuesday (8/25) to give a urine sample. I went home and legit 20 minutes later they wanted me to come back into oncology triage. The cancer train goes in reverse. Ok. Honestly, I knew that this likely meant an overnight stay. This happened to me at Sloan Kettering. If you ever want to get a good perspective of your health go to an ER or triage area. You see people way worse than you and you go, “Ok. I’m doing ok considering…”  So, triage team thinks I may have appendicitis! Insert my famous eye roll here as the cancer coaster hangs upside down mid-loop. Really? It can't just be a UTI?! I’m wheeled into the scariest ER ever with the most nastified bathrooms... ever. Like I thought the guy next to me was dead! I legit threw out my Nike’s as the bathroom floor was so gross! The coaster hangs for a few hours as I await a CT. Long story short it’s not appendicitis. Everyone yells, “Yay!” I go “Meh.” I kinda wished it was. Getting your appendix removed is an “easy” procedure. You know the recovery. I come down from the loop and am told it’s a common chemo related infection called Neutropenic Enterocolitis. The next five days sucked. That’s how I sum up my 5 day hospital stay. Sucky. I puked. I pooped. I had neuropathy. I was dizzy. I was miserable. I was weak.  A big shoutout to all of you who cheered me on and a BIG thank you to my parents. I would not have survived without them. My parents are the real heroes in this story. The whipping roller coaster slows down and I am finally released from the hospital late Monday.

Tuesday was Sept 1. There was no way I was able to go in. I sobbed at least four times that day. I was missing television's version of Broadway’s Opening Night. I want to pull the break on the cancer coaster here. A massive, "Thank you," to my News Nation family who went above and beyond to make me feel included on this special day for the team. You have all been so supportive and loving and I am so very grateful and appreciative for every text, Team’s message, and lovely flowers. I know some of you are reading this. Thank you.

The rest of the week was a blur. It was full of puking and appointments. I felt like absolute garbage. My mouth sores went away but were replaced with Sahara Desert dryness. I couldn’t sleep. I found out my cancer had spread to another part of my body. More on that in another blog. However, please know the treatment is 95% effective and the tumor tiny. 

I wrote this post in my mind over 4 days as I was too tired to type. Today is the day before cycle #2 of my cancer kicking cocktail. I still feel fatigued but less garbage-like today. I’m resting and enjoying being able to type this out before putting the computer back down and shutting my eyes. The brake on the cancer coaster is released and my car pulls into the gate. I get off and pick up my bat. Gotta gather strength and step back into the batting cages and swing.

Chemo Sucks

 Hi everyone! This will be short but I wanted to update you. I had my first chemo infusion this past Monday. It went great! My parents and friends were wonderful. Cycle 2 is next month.

Chemo is something you love to hate as a warrior. You love it because it hopefully kills the cancer. However, chemo is like a bag of not cool Halloween tricks. It was the part of treatment I despised the most in 2016. Now, I remember why. Nearly a week after infusion its’ kicked my ass a bit. The acne/rash on my face and chest is horrifying to look at. It’s painful, pussy and just nasty. I thought it would improve after a few days but nope… just worse. I read it means the cocktail is working but good lord! It’s just not cute. My head still hurts but no longer feels like The Elephant Man. The first few days after chemo it legit felt like a human being was growing out of my forehead. Now, it is just is a dull pain. I’ll take it. The fatigue is there. The first time I went through chemo I had it weekly and not every three weeks. I didn’t expect fatigue … yet. The bone pain was full throttle Tuesday-Friday. I mean, yuck. I’d rather have pain than itchiness though. Friday I had hopes of going into work. I had worked Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. I woke up and new I just couldn’t move. Everything hurt. My rash/acne was getting worse. I was running to the bathroom. I couldn’t move. I was in bed most of the day and night. Oh, and my taste is off. *insert eye roll* 

Chemo just sucks… it’s just temporary. I hope tomorrow I’ll hear from my team about some topicals for this ugly rash/acne. I’ll likely work from home for the first time.  The idea doesn’t excite me. However, the fact that I have a supportive work family and can work from home is a blessing. 

I just ordered some groceries. You can never go wrong with ice cream and mac cheese. 

As I wind this up I want to acknowledge that I know I am lucky. Thousands of people don’t have health insurance and are unable to afford treatment. I have an amazing support group in friends and family. I have a work family that’s been nothing but supportive. I just need to keep going.  

The Day Before

The day before. The day before what you ask? Chemo! Let’s catch you up. I had my port placement Friday! I was super excited to get my “Power Port” since last time I kicked cancer’s booty I didn’t have one.

Needless to say… the excitement of the port wore off when I realized the amount of pain I was in. Good lord! I expected some pain and a lot of discomfort. Instead I just got pain! I’ve been taking Tylenol and it helps a tiny. However, it’s been a few days of not much sleep and pain. In the end I know it’ll be worth it and the pain is temporary. I know my "Power Port" will be fabulous. 

In the meantime, I started my pre-meds for chemo tomorrow. That’s right. I’m warming up my swing!  The Wizard gave me my cocktail. I’ll have Docetaxel, Herceptin and Perjeta together for 6 cycles every three weeks. After the third cycle we will see if it’s working. I’m feeling alright about the combo. I’m just ready to get started and hope I have zero allergic reactions. The drug is in a similar family to the Taxol (boo) that put me through two allergic reactions in 2016. The infusion team says I’ll be okay. 

I’m doing pretty good mentally. I had a moment of like 5 minutes of sobbing last night. Nothing really sparked it. I just had a moment. So, what does a gal do to cheer herself up. I can’t workout or bend over so I got a mani/pedi! Now I’m back home just chilling. Gotta be ready for my turn at bat! Thank you again everyone in the stands. Remember to social distance. Speaking of which… my COVID test came back negative.

I hope YOU all are doing well. Be your own advocate and take care of YOU. As my friend Scott messaged me, “You are ImPORTant.” Get it? It made me LOL and smile.

“Health is the greatest of God’s gifts. Every day we’ve been granted it hangs on a thread as fine as a spider’s web… and the smallest thing can make it snap. Leaving the strongest of us helpless in an instant. And in that instant hope is our protector…”  

The Batting Cages

The batting cages. I am in them but on the bench. When we last spoke I was hanging on The Drop Zone… dangling 75 feet in the air. Well, the ride has since ended. Yippee! I had to get off to have my lymph node biopsy Monday. 

I knew deep down my cancer had spread. I was just waiting for the confirmation. For the next 48 hours I sat on the bench and practiced my swing.

It’s Wednesday. My phone rings. It’s not a PA calling this time. It’s my surgeon on the other end of the phone. The cancer has spread to my lymph nodes. There are also two tiny spots on my lungs, but the spots are so small they can’t determine what they are. What they do know is that the cancer in my lymph nodes is my breast cancer. Confirmation. I have Stage IV Metastatic Breast Cancer. It’s not curable but it is treatable. 

It’s finally time to get into the game! Chemo is up next. I’ll be on deck Tuesday when I meet with my oncologist. He’ll come up with the game plan and then I’ll be at bat.

I’m not alone in the cages. The metal stands behind me are full of friends, family and colleagues. They are all cheering team Cancer Crusher on. They may be spectators but they are the true MVP’s.

One more thing. Some of you know my tumor has a name. My tumor’s name is Dorothy because she looks like a tornado. Get it? Dorothy like in The Wizard of Oz! The lymph nodes are those obnoxious flying monkeys. Anyway… I’m off to meet the Wizard Tuesday and will keep you posted. 

The Drop Zone

As a kid my friends and I would go to Great America. We’d ride the coasters, water rides anything that spins. Once in a while we’d ride something called The Drop Zone. I’ve never been a fan of those rides. You’re strapped in… hoisted over a 100 feet into the air… then plummeted at a high speed back down… sometimes stopping in the middle. Ummm. Yeah. No. 

That’s how this week has been for me. As you probably know I had my cat scan on Monday. It had been postponed due to a prior allergic reaction I’d had during a previous scan. After 13 hours of allergy prep I went in ready to rumble. I drank the mocha flavored sludge and the scan was over in 5 minutes. Yes. 5 minutes! LOL! If only scan results could come that fast, right? 

After a couple of days I checked in with my breast surgeon’s office via email. I was still awaiting bone scan results from the previous week. They had to be back, right? 

My phone rings. The Drop Zone begins to fall and I holler in delight. The good news. The bone scan was clear! I was soooo happy. Victory! Then the words, “I have some not great news about your CT scan. We found an abdominal aortic dissection in your abdomen. I need to call vascular for a second opinion but you could be bleeding internally and get ready to go to the ER.” The Drop Zone screeched to a hard halt mid drop. I wish I could have seen the look on my face because it was probably the “WTF” luck. Long story short. I didn’t have to rush to the ER. However, the PA made it very clear that any symptom I have could be a sign I’m bleeding internally and I could die fast. I took a breath and was like, “Well that’s meh. What else can you tell me about the scan?” Turns out I have quite a few enlarged nodules and lymph nodes in my chest and above my collar bone. This did not shock me. I mean the number of them did, but the news itself was what I figured it would be. Not the best news. Could be worse. I need a biopsy.

The next day was spent working and making appointments ASAP. The PA emailed back asking, “How are you feeling today? Quite a bomb I dropped on your lap yesterday. Now that you’ve had a little time to process can I do anything to help?” That’s very kind of you, but no thank you. You’ve freaked me out! I’m dangling 100 feet in the air holding on for dear life… thinking every pain I have is me bleeding to death and not knowing it! Thanks. LOL. I spent the next 48 hours asking myself, “Should I go to the ER?” It’s hard knowing what pains, etc go with what health woe. Is it just the breast cancer causing what I’m feeling? Maybe it’s the enlarged lymph nodes and nodules? Is it the dissection? It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t just me on The Drop Zone. It was my family and small group of friends I had told! They were, and are, rock stars for checking in on me constantly and just cheering me on. Thank you! (You know who you all are)

Friday was the day. We were meeting with the vascular surgeon. I was already told my mastectomy was likely going to be put on hold until we figure out what was going on… that chemo would likely be up to bat first.

My parents and I arrived at the hospital and waited… and waited. My vascular surgeon had been called into emergency surgery. Finally, he came in. The Drop Zone begins to fall and suddenly jolts to a halt… again. It’s not an abdominal aortic dissection! It was a misdiagnoses! It’s something called a “web” that I likely may have had all my life. I did a strong internal eye roll and let out a tiny sigh of relief that it was nothing. My parents were over the moon as well. I think we were all prepping for a surgery. 

So, where am I today you ask? I am dangling about 75 feet on The Drop Zone. I am emotionally exhausted… not feeling fab physically… but doing a happy dance. My biopsy is Monday. I’m trying to enjoy my view from The Drop Zone. Everything looks so small, pretty and peaceful. I hope by the end of the week there is a plan. The fact that there is no plan gives me more anxiety. What is next for me? I don’t know. I do know that I’m ready to get off The Drop Zone and into the batting cages.

Wait. Hope. Pray. Crush!

There’s nothing worse then "scanxiety." Well there is… but you know what I mean. Well…hopefully, you don’t. Today was scan day. Some additional suspicious findings were discovered in a recent MRI so a bone scan and CT was on tap for today. I can’t describe how it feels when you’re going into a day where tests will reveal if your cancer has spread. I am a positive person, but honestly, my sunny disposition was a bit overcast as I walked into the hospital. I just have a feeling. I hope the feeling is wrong.

Loooong story short, CT scan will be happening Monday. I checked in, waited and drank the nastified stuff. Then they were like, “Sorry. You had an allergic reaction to contrast before. You have to do a 13 hour allergy prep before we perform the CT.” My heart sank. There is nothing more frustrating then when something occurs that is completely avoidable. Why was there no phone call prior to the appointment asking if I had a previous reaction?! Why did they wait until AFTER I drank the janky cocktail?! Actually, the concoction wasn’t so bad. It was coffee flavored. However, It did make me feel bad. I was not amused. However, I pulled my big girl pants up and got it settled within 30 minutes… ordered the meds I need and rescheduled the scan. *A shout out to my dad who walked to get them for me.

The good news is that my loooong day ended with my body scan. The body scan is a bit more complex and time consuming so I am glad that is over. Now… I wait. I wait for the results for the bone scan. I wait for my CT. I wait for those results. I wait. I rest. I pray. I hope. Why? Cause this girl is going to crush cancer whatever the scans reveal.