Diagnosis: Afterparty

Halfway through April, and I haven’t yet updated! No news really is good news around here, especially since yesterday was officially Round 5 of chemo! So, I present to you yet another bullet point style entry with random updates and musings:

• Starting off a bit out of order but not wanting to bury the lede with the BIGGEST headline: yesterday my medical oncologist confirmed that I am OFFICIALLY IN PARTIAL REMISSION! As cool as that sounds on paper, I’m still super dialed into the science of cancer and am fully aware we’re nowhere close to out of the woods yet. I know it won’t be until we get the next set of scans that we know anything concrete. So, while “Partial Remission” sounds like a celebratory place to be- I know it’s just a pit stop on the way to NED (No Evidence of Disease and/or Complete Remission) that I’m really gunning for. But for now, we can confidently say that the cancer burden is VERY low at this point. If things keep going this well (without adding surgery into the equation just yet) after this first prescribed 12 rounds of chemo, it’s likely I’ll swap over to pill form (goodbye, Goblet of Poison!) for maintenance, with scans every 3 months.

• And the reason my oncologist was confident enough to make the “remission” call is that my CEA continues to drop! I had full expectations that the drop wouldn’t be linear; small bumps can happen and are still not considered bad, as sometimes more CEA is released into the blood as cancer cells are dying. But to recap and update, mine started at 45.2, then the dramatic drop down to 9.7, then 4.6, and my last update was 2.4; in the NORMAL range. So again, expecting a possible rise this week, we were all shocked to see it at 2.1! It’s stabilizing, which is what caused the clinical term remission this week.

• We finally have our first set of post-chemo scans on the books! On May 21 (or more likely, results a day or 2 afterwards) we’ll finally get a visual peek at what Krang has been up to (or if he still even exists?) and more importantly, in my-and-general-oncology’s opinion, what his pesky spawn are up to on my liver. The way I understand it, Krang is extremely evictable- chopping him and his little colon house out is a one and done job. But the liver spawn, who have been the more concerning issue since the start, are the ones to really keep an eye on. They’re the determining factor if surgery is going to be plausible, since there’s more of them & they’re a bit scattered. If the surgeons see it shrunk enough that we’d have clean margins- surgery could come as early as this year, or, fingers crossed, this summer!

• In the mindset of hoping that Krang has magically evicted himself, or his spawn have magically disappeared I think it’s important to note & throw out into the universe, that I come from a long line of magical women. My grandmother won over a million dollars in the Illinois lottery once when I was a baby, and my mom once went into surgery for a cyst only for the surgeon to tell her it wasn’t there when he went to operate- that it was a miracle. I’ve been thinking about these two instances often, especially when it comes to how well I’ve been tolerating chemo, how well my CEA has dipped, and I’m hoping it applies to how well these scans turn out. Miracles happen, magic is literally in my DNA, and the data is already supporting a possible miracle already brewing.

• A quick update on the iron infusion I got 3 weeks ago: it took easily, no side effects, and I swear I feel a difference (more energy/less minor dizziness when I stand up) although my oncologist says that part is all in my head. Oh well, either way I’m no longer anemic, my bone marrow can fully catch up between treatments & make more blood cells. I’m also focusing on eating more iron (and by more, I mean actually eat the daily recommended amount) Fun fact: Kix cereal has like 90% of your days’ worth of iron in just one bowl!

• Liver and kidney function continue to be pristine, so chemo really isn’t burdening the organs we’re worried about, and most importantly my liver is CRUISING through this, and nothing is getting worse there (more reasons to hope Krang’s spawn have miraculously left the building). As my chemo nurse said yesterday, before telling me I was cleared for the day’s treatment, “A’s across the board on your bloodwork.” Or if you prefer a less enthusiastic rendition, my Nurse Practitioner simply stated in MyChart, “Labs are stable.”

• One phrase you’ll hear a thousand times after a cancer diagnosis is “let me know if you need anything.” And it comes from such a loving and caring place, especially for people who don’t know what else to say. Had I not been diagnosed with cancer, I would absolutely say that too. However, and I’ve seen this sentiment come from other cancer patients, the best advice I can give is: Just do the thing, make the plan, show up spontaneously. Especially for me- the type of person who spent their entire Greece wedding trip worried that everyone else was having a great time- I am the worst person when it comes to reaching out to people for help, concerned my ask is a burden. Especially while still only 75 days into my diagnosis, feeling great & not like I really need anything (other than masks when I go out on a chemo week), I’m not sure what to even ask for help with, or what I would even need. So if you have an idea (a plan! a date! an adventure!) throw it out there! I’m doing so great, and while over-cautiously not trying to do too much, I’m physically capable with zero fatigue or nausea, so I’m ready!

• And I really am starting to do a lot more, really venture back out into the world! Since the last update, I’ve babysat my nephew a ton, visited lots of family for American Easter, taken a barre class at a brewery, hung out with good friends, done a ton of errands, did the midnight Greek Easter service, made a ton of food for Greek Easter, gone to the zoo, and most importantly- continued to improve my running. While my stats are still nothing to let Olympic committees know about, I’m still getting faster, running longer, and continuing to be better than I was the day before. 

• And on that note, it’s still wild to me how people are telling me I’m so strong all the time; all I’m really doing is showing up for my appointments and generally taking better care of myself. All this cancer stuff still doesn’t feel impactful yet, minus the few annoying-but-workaround-able side effects, the ones that fade after 4-5 days. And I feel I conquered the mental stability early on. I’ve gotten to the point where I honestly forget some days that I even have cancer. I can even feel my sassy spirit returning; the one I thought I may have lost when reality forced me to become soft and vulnerable. It’s truly possible to just live normally with stage 4 cancer. So wild.