Archive for cancer

Discovering life is fragile is a process

Broken mirror

Image via Wikipedia

There are phases to a cancer diagnosis. Some people equate them to the stages of grief, but I think it goes deeper than that. After nearly eight years of living with my own diagnosis, most of that time as a peer counselor and an active participant in online support forums, I’ve seen some predictable patterns, expecially among people under 35 diagnosed with late-stage disease.

There’s the why me? period. And the what caused this? period. There’s the I-want-to-hear-stories-of-hope (and only that) period. There’s the if-I-eat-different-and-juice-and-exercise period. And always, scariest, is the stats-are-stupid/don’t apply that goes hand-in-hand with the I’m-gonna-beat-this! period.

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Hope collides with reality…the promise #fail of new drug research

Research promises, but when does the promise fail?

The hype started in fall, 2011 with a press release from Bayer Pharmaceutical, a German-based pharmaceutical company. Their new drug for colorectal cancer, a multi-kinase inhibitor that was in a randomized Phase III clinical trial for Stage IV patients whose cancer had progressed on all prior chemo regimens, had done so much better than expected that at the interim report phase, the trial was ended early. The participant groups were unblinded, and the patients receiving only placebo and “best supportive care” (symptom management) were offered the drug, called Regorafenib.

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Hey, 2012 – bring it on!

A plastic yellow bucket.

A plastic yellow bucket for my 2012 bucket list - how LiveSTRONG appropriate! Image via Wikipedia

I know that my last post was a bit darker than usual for me, and for that I apologize. One thing I’ve learned about cancer is that pain control is job #1, and without adequate pain control, it’s very difficult to focus on anything else. It’s also easy peasy to get dark about looking forward.

So yesterday and today I’ve bitten the bullet, and increased the oxycodone. I seem to be mentally functional for a good part of the day if I take 600 mg Ibuprofen plus 5 mg oxycodone in two doses about 12 hours apart, with a booster dose around mid-afternoon of 400 mg Ibuprofen plus another 2.5 mg oxycodone. It’s more oxycodone than I want to take.  I DO sleep more soundly and longer at night, and want badly to nap during the day. But at least I am sleeping, and I’m not spending every waking minute counting the time down until my next dose. So, fingers crossed that this will keep working. Read more

Stage IV rectal cancer: 7 years and 9 months in…

Where's the "strong" in LiveStrong?

Normally, I’m more upbeat than this post. But today I sat (or rather, laid) here reading a support forum post about “hope for Stage IV” from a caregiver, where the patient is less than a year out from diagnosis…overjoyed to be converted from inoperative to potentially eligible for surgery.

I remember that feeling. I was excited, too.

I read a post from a 27 year old Stage IV colon cancer patient two weeks out from colon/liver resection surgery, who wants to know about her fertility options. She wants to bear a child – even though, even if she could, her chances of living long enough to raise that child to adulthood are still slim and none.

What I found, after my visit to the support forums, was a crystallization of thoughts that have been floating in and out of the pain meds all weekend. Someone needs to say this out loud. I guess it might as well be me. Read more

Chemo treatment #28

I am two hours into my 28th chemo infusion since April 4, 2011. If you count the two disastrous Folfox infusions in March, that’s 30 infusions since my recurrence was dx’d. But I’m only counting my new weekly 6+2 5FU + Erbitux regimen. We skipped two weeks – one for blood values, one for a fever and UTI flare-up. So – 28 continuous weeks of chemo.

I can feel the energy draining out of me with each drip in of Erbitux. The Dunkin Donuts small coffee isn’t even touching the fatigue that is piling on, along with the brain fog. So much for working in the infusion chair.

Kirshner suggests that my options, if Saturday’s scan shows stable disease, are to:
1) continue on 6+2 regimen
2) drop the 5FU and just do weekly Erbitux
3) take a short break (with intense monitoring) from all chemo.
I’ve never thought taking a break while I still have active (even if controlled) disease was a good choice. Seems too risky to me. On the other hand, it would be good to feel “normal” through December, and I could start 6+2s again after Christmas.

And feeling “normal” would be really nice right now.