I have always loved rollercoasters. Every time I would ride one, I would say, if I could just have a rollercoaster in my backyard, and start each day with a ride, all my days would be great. I loved the excitement and exhilaration I felt with each ride. Now I am riding a different kind of a rollercoaster, the rollercoaster of life (with cancer). I think I want to get off this ride, but I can't, I have to ride it out.
Here is my current rollercoaster ride called Life.
Monday:
Weekly Bloodwork - Monday, Bloody, Monday
Tuesday Morning:
Follow up visit with Dr. DeVos, UCLA, specialist. This was a good visit. Only took two hours to drive 41 miles (thanks LA traffic and Martha Felix, for being my friend, notetaker, and driver at 6am). I got to see my first
PET scan, which lit up like a Christmas tree, showing all the cancerous nodes in my neck, abdomen, and spleen. I have to admit, I am glad I didn't see this any sooner or it would have freaked me out. Dr. DeVos seemed certain that the 2nd scan would show great improvement from 2 cycles of chemotherapy. The very "hot areas" in the scan should be cooler and my very enlarged spleen should be smaller. He had reviewed all the images and biopsies himself and determined that I did have the more aggressive type of cancer. He followed that with "you are on the right path;" and that R-CHOP chemotherapy treatment was an aggressive treatment that should work. I left his office with more information and a certain comfort just knowing that the treatment I was doing was the right one and it should be working. At the same time, it was a little scary to see all the "hot spots" on the scan and realize how much cancer I had in my body - but again - just more information.
Tuesday Afternoon:
On Tuesday afternoons, I call Remy, my chemo nurse, to review my bloodwork from Monday. I am on the phone with him, and he says, "Ok, I am pulling up your labs...your WBC (white blood count) is a little low. 2.6 (normal range is 3.8 -10.8) - this is normal for your WBC to drop. Then I hear, "oh shit," and he says, "your neutrophils (think of these as your baby WBCs) are really low, at 424 (normal range is 1500-7800). They call this
Neutropenia when your neutrophils drop below 500, you are at greater risk of infection. ANC (absolute neutrophil count) less than 500 = Severe degree of Neutropenia (indicating a high risk of developing an infection). This was not the news I wanted to hear for several reasons. The biggest reason being that if these counts are low, you have to push the chemo treatment, until they return to normal levels. I am supposed to get chemotherapy every three weeks - and have 70 days until my last treatment. I really want to stay on that schedule. I know I cannot control this, but you know I want to. What does this all mean for day to day living? How can I increase my WBC and ANC (and yes, of course, like education, the medical field has acronym overuse)? Well, I could try to eat more red meat and drink bone broth, but other than rest and staying away from sick people and germs, there is nothing I can really do. My body has to do it. Remember the three injections I got the week before,
Zarxio, the bone pain shots? Well, they were supposed to help with this but I found out that Zarxio really only lasts in your body for 24 hours, thus the 3 days of injections. Neulasta, the other type of natural protein known as a granulocyte-colony stimulating factor (or "G-CSF"), lasts in your body for 14 days, but has to be administered 24 hours after chemotherapy and
no sooner than 14 days before your next infusion. So, tomorrow I will get blood drawn again to see my levels, and can get another injection of Zarxio on Saturday to help increase my counts. If they do not improve by Monday, no chemo on Tuesday.
Wednesday: The ride continues...
2nd PET Scan - these scans are really quite fascinating. No eating for 6 hours prior to the scan. You show up to radiology, and first, they insert an IV into your arm and check your blood sugar levels, luckily mine was at a 91, which is a good level, if they are too low, you cannot receive the radiotracer (radioactive sugar) that they inject into your bloodstream. Once they inject this, you are put into a room, labeled radioactive, and covered with warmed blankets, lots of them, lights dimmed, and told to relax and try to sleep (this helps move the tracer through your blood more quickly). You lay there for an hour, and "marinate," as they call it. I plug in my earbuds and put on some meditation and rest. After the hour is up, they move you into the scan room, lay you on the little moveable tube-like bed and ask what kind of music you want to hear. The scan takes about 15-20 minutes, you have your arms over your head, covered with more blankets and are asked not to move, but you can breathe (and the Irvine Hoag has the faster machine - sorry Newport Beach - get up to date). I did not expect to get the results for days. I was wrong and around 6pm I got a phone call from Dr. Danny Nguyen. He says, your scan results are back. I took a breath....and waited. He said, with excitement in his voice, they state "
significant reaction to the treatment!!!" Several of the
lymph nodes have reduced in size!! This is great news! It means the chemotherapy is working and we are kicking cancer's ass!! 👊He follows with, but "there is also a small node at the bottom of your lung, which suggests an infection. We are going to start you on an antibiotic and have you rest." We discuss my bloodwork, and how to deal with that (as mentioned above) and I thank him for the phone call. I share the great news with many of you, and sleep a little better!
Thursday:
Today, the sun is shining. I am staying home and resting (ugh) and breathing a little easier, knowing we are winning this fight right now. This rollercoaster ride has its highs and lows...I am screaming and laughing the whole way. Staying positive! 💚💚💚
