Each time I sit down to write a blog entry, I’m building on new thoughts
or events that have taken place since my last post. Usually, this is a lengthy
process that I return to over several days. However, I do not consider sharing these "notesfromsareana" with my friends and family as a task to complete. Expressing thoughts in this fashion, both personal and technical, is a way for me to work through in my mind where I'm at in this moment in time. So please know these notes are just as much for you as they are for me.
This blog entry is no different. However, now that I have a more long-term plan on the calendar for the final
phase of my cancer treatment, the timespan between entries will become greater (every two months or so) until
my treatment is complete in the Fall.
At the end of January, Erin and I took a trip to Duke for an
MRI and doctor visit. The MRI revealed an enhancement in the area of my tumor
bed that raised a few eyebrows. In order to squash any worry that it was something
meaningful, I subsequently had a PET scan. Fortunately, the PET scan revealed nothing of
import, although, going forward they will monitor the area of enhancement
closely. One theory is that it could be radiation-induced scar tissue, which
presents itself on an MRI scan in a similar fashion that a true tumor might. We
had to wait 24 pretty-tough-hours for the results from the PET scan and by that
time we were back in Colorado. It was hard for me to breathe, to think about
anything else, and to control some dark thoughts. When we arrived in Fort
Collins, Alex and Dean (whose fourth birthday was the following day) were
already in bed. I tip-toed into their bedroom struck by the calmness that came
over me watching them dream. In silent sobs I apologized to them because I am sorry, so sorry that
their 39-year old mom is battling brain cancer for the second time. Though my
boys have never expressed any concern over my well-being, I still feel very sad
over the fact that I may not be around for major milestones in their lives. A
lifetime of milestones that they’re not even fully aware lay ahead. On a more
uplifting note, I don’t want to live my life afraid it will all go away in the blink of an eye, when what I really need to be doing is living and enjoying one
awesome moment at a time. Celebrating "Darth" Dean’s 4th birthday was one of those moments and a recent walk home from school with Alex another. My boys (Erin included!!!) are so precious to me and I hold on tight to their unconditional love each and every day.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfRen02I5WfGUdsmbKjvW9YBUTLaUoT9CNsjjfKpAUVgovZzxEUaAqz4jyNr8ehZ-ElgiYSpHcRxoFxzBRt-nIhlwGVoMHi8yJM4wGwSQx9H5QwSEpuZSo74hkgcQulfqnVnodUyDcIBxC/s320/Darth+Dean.jpeg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQP5QdJxqubsiOZjgoNvH4Wp9SnxNUmgt4yH3kyswHTYiZDr-xjz0P0mbEX6jaL9XVxOlhEzvRTblzG1nt3NeE3_OQx6EoQuNPvoDHxX9i39GszaUrV6T3Own5qHIVwmt7OuonE3BYr_pI/s320/Alex+and+bridge.JPG)
I’ve been able to catch my breath since visiting Duke. I
notice my energy level rising, and my outlook improving. It would be unnatural
and even unhealthy if I didn’t allow myself to feel fear and
frustration that I need to process and move away from in a thoughtful manner. I remember one doctor
telling me last summer that due to this recurrence, I’ve signed up for a lifetime
of MRIs. As daunting as that may sound, I understand their necessity to detect early
tumor growth. So, while I experience increased anxiety with each and
every MRI, of which I’ve had countless, I know that they are in the best
interest of my future health. I have learned to accept regular MRIs with maturity because regardless of the outcome (momentary piece of mind or an early detection of a regrowth) they are a necessity. For the time being, I’ll return to Duke
every eight weeks until September 2016 for an MRI and doctor visit to monitor my progress. My plan is to update my blog after each visit to Duke, thus my next entry will be in late March.
My final phase of treatment is a targeted therapy in the form of a
daily chemotherapy pill. I just started the first of eight 28-day cycles, thus a
projected mid-September end date. A hard notion for me to swallow given I want my therapy to
be over yesterday. There will be no gaps from cycle to cycle, but due to the
pills’ cost and specific use, the prescription must be refilled through a
special pharmacy each cycle. Months ago my neuro-oncologist had my tumor sub-typed to see if I,
specifically, qualified for this type of targeted therapy. Fortunately, I did,
so despite the longevity of the treatment, I’m thankful my doctor has researched
every possible avenue to attack this terribly unkind disease. Two important notes here: First, targeted therapy
is a relatively new treatment to the cancer world, therefore it was not
available to me when I first diagnosed in 2008. Second, I would have undergone radiation
and chemotherapy regardless of whether I qualified for this targeted
therapy. The side effects from the chemo pill are similar to any type of chemo
side effect. There was some serious trepidation on my part prior to swallowing
the first pill. However, I am happy to report that after six days, I am tolerating
the pill very well.
I cannot guarantee that every day is going to be a good day
regarding my health, but every day that passes it is good to know that my
courage, strength, and ability to persevere has not waned. I can’t assume
anything with cancer, but I (nor Erin) also cannot and do not want to live life under any dark assumptions.
Recently, the boys and I watched the movie “Kung Fu Panda”
for the first time. They loved it and frankly, so did I! After the movie was
over, while Alex and Dean practiced their newfound kung fu fighting skills
(yikes!!!), I pondered a conversation between two notable characters: Po, the panda
and the old, wise turtle, Master Oogway, a kung fu master. The dialogue
began with this question: “Why are you so upset, Panda?” asked Master Oogway. Essentially,
Po didn’t think he had it in him to be the great kung fu dragon warrior and had taken on
a defeatist outlook. Master Oogway’s response, however, challenged Po’s state
of mind. With deep understanding, Master Oogway responded, “Yesterday is history;
tomorrow is a mystery; but today is a gift. That is why it is called the
'present.'” Unexpectedly, this animated kids’
movie sent me a thought-provoking message. Apparently, I’m not the only soul that has
pondered Master Oogway's sage advice because I found this image on the internet:
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZiePH-awn-3RMzSU0yxakqUBevusaEOZxLFGGLCCmz3P_Uc8ykWGGhq6dQ0wSAyG3a-WIERKkkiEFdGi7N__s1THlYH9SsnE9bF4BmNKwl0_5IXvGB1jqBbXn9T39XfCGTl7_USynXBjE/s320/Master+Oogway.jpg)
Love, Sareana