We are back from South Carolina with the verbal report on the CT scans taken last Thursday and Friday at the Medical University of South Carolina where the Zactima clinical experimental drug trial is taking place. These show virtually no change in the size of the tumors in my liver compared with the previous scans taken January 31st and February 1st. This is the third set of images with comparable results. We may conclude that my condition is “stable” at the moment.
One more set of results are due soon from the bloodwork accomplished during the visit. These results will either reinforce the “stable” pronouncement or present conflicting information. We rely on these measures to track the activity of the cancer cells and to keep an eye on other health indicators, especially those relating to liver function and the oxygen-carrying capability of the red blood cells.
These results could become a habit! I have found the news so hopeful that I have taken the bold step of renewing my AARP membership for five years. How’s that for confidence in the future! Although these results are encouraging, I am resisting the urge to jump to conclusions from three consecutive hopeful reports. The overall diagnosis of Stage 4 metastatic cancer of the thyroid remains, nonetheless.
As soon as the bloodwork results are in, I will post them. In the meantime, we thank you for your support and faith in a positive outcome. Knowing you are there means a lot to us.
Copyright 2008
http://lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted April 30, 2008
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Hair
Mine is still with me, clinging tenaciously more than a year after the start of chemotherapy. Three times we have prepared ourselves for this most significant side effect of cancer treatment with three different types of medication; I have no explanation for the hardiness of my top mop, Pure orneriness, I guess.
Some hair loss is evident though minimal. Evidence: the appearance of naturally curly regrowth where before were limp strands with barely a wave. New growth is stubbornly independent. It goes where it wants, resisting all sprays, creams, gels, ointments and exotic hair treatments.
My hair is shaped by an expert hair stylist into what might be called a “Pixie” if it appeared on someone thirty years younger than me. At my age, nothing is going to make me appear pixie-like, so I’ll have to come up with another descriptive adjective.
Every time I see myself in a mirror, I am reminded of Judy, a high school friend. She frequently expressed frustration with her “naturally curly” hair. After the briefest contact with a comb her topknot appeared perfectly coiffed ready for a prom, a hike, a game of volleyball or the classroom, the envy of the rest of us.
We are, however, prepared due to the kindness of a craft-y dear friend. Thank you, Kristen, for the crocheted beret, made of the colors most flattering for me and ornamented with a silk ribbon in rainbow shades of blue. Just charming! and not at all pixie-like. With luck, it may be pressed into service only as an ornament, not an item of attire.
We heard of one family’s demonstration of solidarity with a child experiencing chemotherapy and resulting hair loss. Every family member had their heads shaved!
Dear ones, we treasure and feel all the positive energy headed our way. Thank you for being with us. Please forgive the delay getting this message to you. Google swallowed Blogspot; they had me jumping through hoops getting reconnected! Next stop: Charleston, SC and more CT scans. We'll be in touch soon.
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Mine is still with me, clinging tenaciously more than a year after the start of chemotherapy. Three times we have prepared ourselves for this most significant side effect of cancer treatment with three different types of medication; I have no explanation for the hardiness of my top mop, Pure orneriness, I guess.
Some hair loss is evident though minimal. Evidence: the appearance of naturally curly regrowth where before were limp strands with barely a wave. New growth is stubbornly independent. It goes where it wants, resisting all sprays, creams, gels, ointments and exotic hair treatments.
My hair is shaped by an expert hair stylist into what might be called a “Pixie” if it appeared on someone thirty years younger than me. At my age, nothing is going to make me appear pixie-like, so I’ll have to come up with another descriptive adjective.
Every time I see myself in a mirror, I am reminded of Judy, a high school friend. She frequently expressed frustration with her “naturally curly” hair. After the briefest contact with a comb her topknot appeared perfectly coiffed ready for a prom, a hike, a game of volleyball or the classroom, the envy of the rest of us.
We are, however, prepared due to the kindness of a craft-y dear friend. Thank you, Kristen, for the crocheted beret, made of the colors most flattering for me and ornamented with a silk ribbon in rainbow shades of blue. Just charming! and not at all pixie-like. With luck, it may be pressed into service only as an ornament, not an item of attire.
We heard of one family’s demonstration of solidarity with a child experiencing chemotherapy and resulting hair loss. Every family member had their heads shaved!
Dear ones, we treasure and feel all the positive energy headed our way. Thank you for being with us. Please forgive the delay getting this message to you. Google swallowed Blogspot; they had me jumping through hoops getting reconnected! Next stop: Charleston, SC and more CT scans. We'll be in touch soon.
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Close Call
It was a regular doctor’s visit scheduled a month earlier to check on INR blood levels because I am on Coumadin, a blood thinner, to prevent clot formation. These reflect relative thin-ness of my blood, ideally in the 2.5 to 3.5 range, the higher the number, the thinner my blood. Levels below 2.5 indicate thicker blood, and associated risk of clots forming; higher than 3.5 and the risk of internal bleeding increases. The blood literally oozes out of the capillaries under the skin forming the appearance of a bruise, or deeper internally where bleeding is harder to detect.
The finger prick yielded a print-out seconds later on the digital blood analyzer of 8.0. I’ve heard of higher INR readings, but not often. After the “how are you?s”, the doctor asked me if I was aware that my nose was bleeding. Other than a tiny sniffle, I was not. What I had first on my question list was my black, swollen tongue first noted two days earlier. I brought this to my dentist’s attention, fearing a metastatic appearance of a new cancer tumor. My dentist put my fears to rest, but was more concerned about the fact that I had no idea how the bruise had come about: no accidental bite or blow to my face.
Putting this evidence together with a urinalysis that proved to be almost pure blood left only one course of action: immediate hospitalization. Half an hour later I was lying in an Intensive Care Unit bed being hooked up to an IV of Fresh Frozen Plasma plus two shots of Vitamin K. (The tongue was black from bleeding inside.)
The next morning I went home with the doctor’s words echoing in my mind: “You were only hours from departing this life entirely”. I always thought dying was preceded by accumulating pain and suffering. The truly scary part of this experience is that I had no symptoms to warn me that I was in peril. Now I have an even keener awareness of what I take in and how it interacts with other medications I need for maintenance of a stable condition. The effects of Coumadin are powerful and far reaching. It needs close, careful attention.
Once again I am happy to be able to sign off for both Michael and me. Bless you for standing by us so faithfully.
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted March 13, 2008
The finger prick yielded a print-out seconds later on the digital blood analyzer of 8.0. I’ve heard of higher INR readings, but not often. After the “how are you?s”, the doctor asked me if I was aware that my nose was bleeding. Other than a tiny sniffle, I was not. What I had first on my question list was my black, swollen tongue first noted two days earlier. I brought this to my dentist’s attention, fearing a metastatic appearance of a new cancer tumor. My dentist put my fears to rest, but was more concerned about the fact that I had no idea how the bruise had come about: no accidental bite or blow to my face.
Putting this evidence together with a urinalysis that proved to be almost pure blood left only one course of action: immediate hospitalization. Half an hour later I was lying in an Intensive Care Unit bed being hooked up to an IV of Fresh Frozen Plasma plus two shots of Vitamin K. (The tongue was black from bleeding inside.)
The next morning I went home with the doctor’s words echoing in my mind: “You were only hours from departing this life entirely”. I always thought dying was preceded by accumulating pain and suffering. The truly scary part of this experience is that I had no symptoms to warn me that I was in peril. Now I have an even keener awareness of what I take in and how it interacts with other medications I need for maintenance of a stable condition. The effects of Coumadin are powerful and far reaching. It needs close, careful attention.
Once again I am happy to be able to sign off for both Michael and me. Bless you for standing by us so faithfully.
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted March 13, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Walk on the Wild Side
Walk on the Wild Side
Between our arrival home from Charleston and meeting with our oncologist last week, a new symptom introduced itself. I don’t know what to call it so I’ll describe what happened.
Part of my regimen is exercise. Typically I’ll walk for a half hour: 15 minutes out and 15 minutes back at a comfortable brisk pace. Until recently, I walked alone, but lately Michael has joined me for companionship, conversation and his own exercise. Three weeks ago, Michael was not available, so I set out by myself and completed three quarters of our regular walking route in cheerful sunshine and a mild balmy breeze.
As was my habit, I walked in the middle of the road, atop the crown of the roadbed to avoid the graded slopes to either side of the yellow line. Then, involuntarily, my pace slowed, little by little, like the Energizer bunny finally running out of battery power, and I collapsed slowly to the pavement. I could no longer support my body weight.
I had fallen to my hands and knees. Wanting to get out of the roadway as rapidly as possible for obvious reasons, I crawled to the edge of the road to a driveway entrance marked by two brick pillars. Thinking a crumpled body by the side of the road might be cause for alarm for some unsuspecting passing motorist, I pulled myself to an upright position using a brick pillar for support. For 10 minutes I twiddled my thumbs, gathering strength. Finally I felt strong enough to complete the journey home at a much reduced pace. Fortunately the road is very lightly traveled, runs arrow straight between the corn fields with visibility of a half mile left and right of our lane.
The medical professionals are still scratching their heads about this. In the meantime, we are treating it as an episode of dehydration. And for now and the near future, I won’t be walking alone!
Copyright 2008
http://lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: February 26, 2008
Between our arrival home from Charleston and meeting with our oncologist last week, a new symptom introduced itself. I don’t know what to call it so I’ll describe what happened.
Part of my regimen is exercise. Typically I’ll walk for a half hour: 15 minutes out and 15 minutes back at a comfortable brisk pace. Until recently, I walked alone, but lately Michael has joined me for companionship, conversation and his own exercise. Three weeks ago, Michael was not available, so I set out by myself and completed three quarters of our regular walking route in cheerful sunshine and a mild balmy breeze.
As was my habit, I walked in the middle of the road, atop the crown of the roadbed to avoid the graded slopes to either side of the yellow line. Then, involuntarily, my pace slowed, little by little, like the Energizer bunny finally running out of battery power, and I collapsed slowly to the pavement. I could no longer support my body weight.
I had fallen to my hands and knees. Wanting to get out of the roadway as rapidly as possible for obvious reasons, I crawled to the edge of the road to a driveway entrance marked by two brick pillars. Thinking a crumpled body by the side of the road might be cause for alarm for some unsuspecting passing motorist, I pulled myself to an upright position using a brick pillar for support. For 10 minutes I twiddled my thumbs, gathering strength. Finally I felt strong enough to complete the journey home at a much reduced pace. Fortunately the road is very lightly traveled, runs arrow straight between the corn fields with visibility of a half mile left and right of our lane.
The medical professionals are still scratching their heads about this. In the meantime, we are treating it as an episode of dehydration. And for now and the near future, I won’t be walking alone!
Copyright 2008
http://lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: February 26, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Up and Down Test Results
Most recent blood test results are “mixed” showing changes within a narrow range in both directions as follows:
CEA on 2-4-08 is a 15% drop compared with 12-22-07 to 5567 from 6569 respectively. The Calcitonin levels are up slightly from 7313 to 8105. The objective is to lower the numbers as far as possible. Zero would be just fine, thank you very much. We are definitely headed in the right direction. And, like political candidates, we hope to keep the momentum going!
More results will be out to you as they arrive. In the meantime, look for various reflections on life with (and sometimes without) cancer.
Our steadfast gratitude for your reassurances and shared joy.
With heartfelt feelings on this Valentine’s Day!
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: February 14, 2008
CEA on 2-4-08 is a 15% drop compared with 12-22-07 to 5567 from 6569 respectively. The Calcitonin levels are up slightly from 7313 to 8105. The objective is to lower the numbers as far as possible. Zero would be just fine, thank you very much. We are definitely headed in the right direction. And, like political candidates, we hope to keep the momentum going!
More results will be out to you as they arrive. In the meantime, look for various reflections on life with (and sometimes without) cancer.
Our steadfast gratitude for your reassurances and shared joy.
With heartfelt feelings on this Valentine’s Day!
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: February 14, 2008
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Steady As She Goes
We met with our MUSC (Charleston SC) Head/Neck oncologist on Monday afternoon (2-4-08). The CT scan of my chest and abdomen revealed essentially no change in size of the tumors in my liver and thyroid. The results are within a “margin of error” that could be accounted for by the slight differences in the number of millimeters between comparable November and February image slices. This is good news in that it signals a stable status of the illness. Now that we have two measurements to compare, the February results confirm the hopeful figures from November. This warrants optimism!
As yet, I don’t have the results of the lab analysis on the blood draw also taken Monday. All the numbers will be in by next week at which time I will pass them along, comparing these results with the previous analysis taken at MUSC in November.
Two subjective small improvements in the way my body works have appeared during the past two months that I consider significant to returning health. During this time I have gained 8 pounds. Never in my life have I rejoiced about GAINING weight!
The other is that my skin is no longer as fragile as it was as recently as December. Back then small cuts, scrapes, skin tears or abrasions required up to three weeks to completely heal. Now similar cuts heal in one quarter of that time. I imagine my immune system flexing its figurative muscles as it grows stronger!
We thank you for your prayers and an almost palpable flow of positive energy.
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted February 6, 2008
As yet, I don’t have the results of the lab analysis on the blood draw also taken Monday. All the numbers will be in by next week at which time I will pass them along, comparing these results with the previous analysis taken at MUSC in November.
Two subjective small improvements in the way my body works have appeared during the past two months that I consider significant to returning health. During this time I have gained 8 pounds. Never in my life have I rejoiced about GAINING weight!
The other is that my skin is no longer as fragile as it was as recently as December. Back then small cuts, scrapes, skin tears or abrasions required up to three weeks to completely heal. Now similar cuts heal in one quarter of that time. I imagine my immune system flexing its figurative muscles as it grows stronger!
We thank you for your prayers and an almost palpable flow of positive energy.
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted February 6, 2008
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Catch Up
Catch Up
Thank you, thank you, each and all, for keeping in touch, for your cards, notes, emails, letters and calls, especially during what I call the “dark days.” These were the days between the recent holidays that were especially difficult for me: constant nausea overshadowed with the gloom of depression, probably due to the anniversary of D-Day (Diagnosis Day). As the days become colder and the hours of daily sunshine decreased, I spent more time mourning the fading days of a summertime filled with a light heart and optimism.
But now that I’ve had a couple of weeks with frequent strings of “good days”, and am managing the nausea a bit better, I find my spirits lightening. The beginning of a new year always has brought me renewed optimism. Now I’m celebrating just being here to write ANY date in 2008.
Recent highlights:
Laser-blasting a kidney stone on the day after Thanksgiving (out-patient surgery at Medical College of Virginia in Richmond).
A meeting with our oncologist on January 2. He confirmed the improvement shown by the imaging done in Charleston in early November. The cancer marker blood tests showed a decline in one marker of 57%, and the other marker of 44% (lower numbers are better). Furthermore, the physical exam of my liver, in the oncologist’s estimation showed “softening” of the liver area that had been hard and distended due to the size and mass of the tumor. We are all thrilled by the test results.
Dancing however briefly on New Year’s Eve (to Credence Clearwater).
Now we are back in Charleston for more CT imaging: chest & abdomen today and neck tomorrow, blood work on Monday and an appointment with the study’s principal oncologist to review imaging results and plan the next phase of the study participation. It is hard to imagine better results than those noted above, but we shall see. And I will pass along the news either way promptly.
A special thanks to Michael and his amazing endurance. I don’t know how he puts up with my recalcitrance and oftentimes difficult behavior. You can choose when and how you communicate with me. He’s stuck with me!
Copyright 2008
http://lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted January 31, 2008
Thank you, thank you, each and all, for keeping in touch, for your cards, notes, emails, letters and calls, especially during what I call the “dark days.” These were the days between the recent holidays that were especially difficult for me: constant nausea overshadowed with the gloom of depression, probably due to the anniversary of D-Day (Diagnosis Day). As the days become colder and the hours of daily sunshine decreased, I spent more time mourning the fading days of a summertime filled with a light heart and optimism.
But now that I’ve had a couple of weeks with frequent strings of “good days”, and am managing the nausea a bit better, I find my spirits lightening. The beginning of a new year always has brought me renewed optimism. Now I’m celebrating just being here to write ANY date in 2008.
Recent highlights:
Laser-blasting a kidney stone on the day after Thanksgiving (out-patient surgery at Medical College of Virginia in Richmond).
A meeting with our oncologist on January 2. He confirmed the improvement shown by the imaging done in Charleston in early November. The cancer marker blood tests showed a decline in one marker of 57%, and the other marker of 44% (lower numbers are better). Furthermore, the physical exam of my liver, in the oncologist’s estimation showed “softening” of the liver area that had been hard and distended due to the size and mass of the tumor. We are all thrilled by the test results.
Dancing however briefly on New Year’s Eve (to Credence Clearwater).
Now we are back in Charleston for more CT imaging: chest & abdomen today and neck tomorrow, blood work on Monday and an appointment with the study’s principal oncologist to review imaging results and plan the next phase of the study participation. It is hard to imagine better results than those noted above, but we shall see. And I will pass along the news either way promptly.
A special thanks to Michael and his amazing endurance. I don’t know how he puts up with my recalcitrance and oftentimes difficult behavior. You can choose when and how you communicate with me. He’s stuck with me!
Copyright 2008
http://lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted January 31, 2008
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