I thought this would be helpful for me... and if you're keeping up, I'll try to update it as things happen.
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[ 2025 ]
January 11, 2025 - Histotripsy procedure
It will take 6 months to see full results. The doctor described successfully targeting 5 locations, 4 smaller tumors and part of a larger one. CEA (tumor marker number) after the procedure (and ongoing chemo) is about 800 (down from 9,000.
January, 2025 - Chemo is scheduled for another 6 rounds
The chemo is cumulative with side effects, getting more difficult with each treatment. I navigate an ever changing series of symptoms ranging from near constant nausea to neuropathy, just now starting to set in. Most days I feel like I have the flu and have a difficult time mustering the energy to move. I continue to work because I must. I continue to get out of bed because my kids need me and I need them. They help me feel normal again and provide a big distraction. I've only been doing chemo for a few months and it's already very difficult. I have a hard time thinking about how long someone can endure this.
I embrace the time with family and friends with as much normalcy as I can. I'm a realist and struggle with the concept of hope or the law of attraction. I can't trick my brain into abandoning what the doctors tell me and what I've learned. I spend hours a day reading, learning, to figure out a way through through this. As my stepdad recalled of his Mom's cancer experience, there's no way around but through. Tony has been so graciously helping me supplement chemo with mushrooms and other good things. Oncologists are pretty rigid when it comes to the standard of care they can offer. I wish my brother Aaron was alive. I know he would be helping me navigate this. I do feel his presence, from wherever he is, helping me in ways I can't see. He came to me in a dream a few days before my diagnosis and I had this overwhelming feeling that I was going to be ok. I love you, Aaron.
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[ 2024 ]
End of December, 2024
Completed 6 rounds of Folfox chemo, with the last 4 of those rounds including Avastin. CEA (tumor marker number) has gone from about 9,000 down to 1,200. "Normal" CEA is 6.5 or less.
November, 2024 - Thanks-wedding!
Ryan has been holding me up since this all went down. He has been strong for me, even when I know this has been utterly heartbreaking for him. We've been engaged for years, but finally decided it was time. We decided to get married on Thanksgiving and planned the wedding in less than two weeks. Kind of ironic that I didn't even have time to send out wedding invitations. I have an immense appreciation for Maya and my Mom for making it feel like a wedding, and Jan for officiating. I was ready to show up in a dress and say "I do." The Moms got a beautiful cake and flowers, decorated, gave me a veil and shoes, and just went above and beyond for us. Ryan's Mom and brother put off their Thanksgiving to celebrate with us. I'm sorry to the rest of the family for the short notice. The weird thing about this diagnosis is that every emotion feels huge. Huge highs and huge lows. That day was so beautiful and perfect. Lucas played the cello as my Dad walked me down the aisle. The girls got to play with flowers and the boys got to dress up fancy, with Wyatt carrying the rings on a pillow handmade from my niece, Jules. I'm so glad we did it.
End of September, 2024
Surgery for a port placed into my chest to allow chemotherapy to flow directly to my heart, so it can pump that poison all over my body. I began chemotherapy. A had a few ER stays for pain from the tumors. I'm so grateful for my brother who works at the ER and has dropped everything and helped take care of me when I've needed it the most. Jan you are wonderful human. I love you. I'm so so fortunate to live close to my parents and have their never-ending support, showing up for me daily. Eric and Kellie have been so awesome, taking the boys when I need it. I'm so thankful they are there for them, too.
September 4th, 2024 - (happy birthday to me!)
Diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer, metastasized to the liver (with innumerable tumors). My oncologist says I'll need to be on chemotherapy for the rest of my life. In an instant my world was turned upside down and I had immense clarity. My life was good. My life was great. I've done everything I ever set out to do. I could leave this earth happy. But my life isn't just about me. My world has never been about work, or material objects. I worked my ass off so I could support my kids. So I could be home with them as babies and take care of them every single day. My world is my kids. How will they handle this trauma? The cruelty of this disease is a hard one for an adult to navigate. I told my family that I may not live to be old and gray, but I will follow the advice of my Dad. I WILL do my best every day.
_______________________________________ Our Callie kitty is such a cutie
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