Springtime in the Rockies

Dear Friends and Family,

I had an interesting encounter with a stranger on a ski slope a few weeks ago. I approached her after she had fallen and lay motionless in the snow. I was concerned she had injured herself, so I asked if she was okay. She said she had bumped her head pretty hard. I offered her a sip of water, which she gratefully accepted. When she sat up to drink, she removed her helmet and complained of a headache. In an effort to comfort her ego, I mentioned that the day's ski conditions were tough. She nodded then replied with exasperation, "Yes, and they're even harder without poles and only one arm." It wasn't until then that I became aware of her disability. 

This chance encounter was a reminder for me that we cross paths with survivors everywhere we go whether we realize it or not. My unexpected interaction with this woman on a quintessential Colorado ski day was a reminder. A reminder that I am grateful for my health, yes, my health. Because being healthy in mind and spirit enables me to persevere despite extreme circumstances. I like to think I’m not living with cancer, rather it is living with me...there is a difference. It is still my body and I monitor how to keep it as healthy as I can through exercise, diet and sleep. I do what it takes to breath in and out every day and take the good and the not so good in stride. I have a hard time with being deemed a “warrior,” or a “fighter,” which are words that have become synonymous with cancer. Recently, I’ve been searching for the word that best describes how I approach cancer, but I haven’t found it yet. I will let you know when I do.

As of late, I’m feeling more at ease with my cancer diagnosis—only took eight years to get here. I could complain all day about having a serious illness and all the bad things that have come with it, but that’s not going to get me very far. I blame cancer for taking away a lot, but on the flip side, what has it given me? I'm not setting out to have appreciation for cancer or feel warmth with its presence in my life, but I am willing to let go of the negativity the "C" word invokes for me personally. In truth, what it comes down to after living with cancer since 2008 is that I'd rather be respectful of the potential damage it can do and reign in that invisible power, than don armor and fight as if I'm a warrior. Over time, I have chosen to "speak" to my internal enemy with respect and with the visceral knowledge that it is capable of great harm, but I will do everything I can to stay focused on living and loving my life. This outlook makes me feel stronger than I’ve ever been.

Clean MRIs also give me strength and focus to keep on keeping on. I'm pleased to report that last week's MRI returned without any signs of regrowth. You may remember there was potential cause for concern from my MRI late January that led to a PET scan. Fortunately, that specific area of enhancement has not grown or changed, therefore leading my doctor to believe it is scar tissue from radiation and not a tumor. This is clearly what we wanted to hear! 

Having spent periods of time in North Carolina this past year due to cancer treatment and doctor visits, I have grown to really enjoy my trips to Durham despite my reason for being there. It is a charming, up-and-coming city that Erin and I have enjoyed exploring and watch grow. In some ways it's a getaway for Erin and me, or in the instance last week, my trip was extended into a mini-mama retreat. Due to Mother Nature's wintery unleashing in Colorado the day of my departure from Durham, my original flight was cancelled and delayed by two days! Fortunately, Erin managed his way around the storm since he had to go to work and the boys were in good hands with their Aunt Molly, who also lives in Fort Collins.

Snowshoeing at Eldora Ski Resort

On the Alex and Dean front: we've truly loved every minute of introducing our 7 and 4 year-old to the ski slopes and watching them learn to "pizza" (wedge that slows them down) and "French fry" (parallel ski) down the hill. They’re sprouting up so fast! In other Spring-related news, I’m happy to report that my hair has shown signs of growth!! Nothing too significant yet, but it's something! As we transition from one season to the next, I've purchased a wig. Fun fact most people don't know is that many wigs are given catalog names. I bought Alicia in 2008, who is cute, but I find her hot and itchy. Therefore, I recently purchased Alicia's sister, Felicia (I named her myself). You can meet her in the photo below. Felicia must be worn with a hat or scarf, but I prefer this option over a full wig because it's more comfortable, cooler, and less itchy. Plus, I get the benefit of length and color from my 20s!

Meet Felicia

If I haven't explicitly said it before, I am tolerating the targeted chemotherapy pill quite well. My most notable side effect is loss of taste--nothing a little hot sauce can't cure. Not being able to taste food is actually quite annoying since it takes away the joy of eating despite hunger and cravings. However, in the grand scheme of the things I've lost due to cancer, temporarily losing one of my senses is nothing. At least I can still smell the flowers!

Wishing you a lovely Spring wherever you may be. Next MRI in mid-May and next blog after that.

Love,

Sareana

How are you doing?

I've been getting this question a lot lately. This video ought to give you an idea...

A gorgeous Colorado ski day at Eldora

Yesterday...Tomorrow...Today

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 4^th 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.

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: 

Love, Sareana

I Did It!

Less than a week out of my last cycle of chemo, I’m gaining energy daily and with each passing day I simply feel better, freer and more at ease than I’ve felt in a long time. Cycle four took the wind out of me again. It was unpleasant, but I made it through…I did it!

Seems obvious that exercising would help me with regaining strength, but it also helps my mental outlook. I depend on walks to clear my mind, release toxins from my body, and flood my heart with oxygen to lift me up inside and out. With the recent snowfall we’ve had in Fort Collins, the large park near our house has made for some supreme cross-country skiing conditions. So yesterday, Erin took me out on the ski tracks. You can see by the smile on my face in the picture below that I was happy, which doesn’t begin to describe how I really felt inside.

These two pictures show a stark contrast between where I was a week ago and where I am today. I’m proud of myself for persevering even when the going got rough. It has been a really long six months. What the next six months has in store, I will find out one day at a time. This journey is by no means over, but I feel really good about how far I’ve come and how well I’m doing. Today is a good day.

At the end of this month Erin and I return to Duke for an MRI and meeting with my neuro-oncologist. At that time I will learn more about next steps. Until then, know I am doing well and holding my head high.