Last Chemo Today!!

I can't sleep. I woke up to take the last antiviral (Famciclovir) for my shingles (which is not gone, but well on its way toward healing). That was around 4am. Since then, I've been on Pinterest trying to quiet the anxiety in my head with recipes and other inspiration. It's not working.

My mind is racing. The anticipation of this last dose of chemo feels a lot like the anticipation of the first. There is so much more of the unknown ahead. Will the exhaustion be worse, or can I manage? I feel so much stronger going in for this round because of the extra 12 days I had to heal. My blood counts are good, only my red blood cell count is a hair lower than the normal range. My appetite is great (probably too great if you ask my scale). The pain is mostly gone, just that annoying bruised feeling that remains in my lower back, and occasional twinges from the shingles which really don't even rate as painful in comparison to what I've experienced these past few months. Anxious anticipation leads to the playlist-on-repeat set of questions in my head...

Will the side effects be worse this time? Really worse or just a little? I have less steroids in my system to protect me from the Taxotere, which has been the bane of my chemo existence; it's been the cause of MANY of my side effects. Will the little bit of hair regrowth find its way down the drain? Will the shingles get worse, or come back again as I'm healing? Will/what will I be able to eat this time? Drink this time? Is there really enough left to watch on Netflix to keep me busy these next 10 days? Oh, the nagging questions.... 

I guess we'll know soon enough. My appointment is at 9am. 3 hours to go....

The Final (Chemo) Countdown

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jK-NcRmVcw   C'mon, click the link. You know you want to listen to Europe's The Final Countdown while you read this.


After much discussion (he spent just short of an hour talking with us this morning) with Dr. Kotz, we've decided that I will indeed have the 6th infusion of chemo, but it will be on Monday instead of today. We're going to give the shingles a bit more time to heal. 5 days, to be exact.


The shingles got a bit worse after I wrote my last blog entry. They started to sting quite a bit more, and itch like crazy (and there were more of them, but I was told to expect it to get worse before it got better). Thanks to my wonderful husband, I had relief in the form of Calamine lotion first thing Tuesday morning. Look at this grossness:

Again, little sleep was to be had. Normally I sleep in a position somewhere between belly and side. I can't sleep on my belly because of the expanders (they feel like rocks). My sides are tender because of the expanders as well (they poke). Now, with the edition of shingles on my head and ear, sleeping on my back (which was already difficult for me) is out too. Doug suggested I get an inverter, hang upside down by my toe nails. I half think he's serious. My sleep disruption = his sleep disruption.


Anyway, this too shall pass. At least the shingles aren't in a place where they rub against clothing or cause any other issues.


So, the countdown has begun. The final 5 days until my final chemo. And then, GOOD RIDDANCE CHEMO! My last chemo will end up being 12 days late, but better late than never (really, how many clichés can I pack into one blog post? Maybe a challenge I ought to try sometime.). Also, it's going to be icky. I can only take 1/2 the usual dosage of steroids before and after and he's cutting the steroids they give me during the infusion. The steroids help protect me against some of the side effects from the Taxotere, and the Taxotere has been the likely cause of most of my troubles. Whatever. I'll go through it one more time. ONE MORE TIME. And then I'll move on to other treatments. Speaking of which, Dr. Kotz wants me to go ahead and get the hysterectomy this summer, instead of waiting until the fall. He recalled a patient whose ultrasounds all came back negative but when she finally got around to getting her ovaries removed, there was cancer. A lot of cancer. He doesn't want me to wait unnecessarily. I found that convincing.


Since it is the end of the semester, and I do have mounds of student papers to grade, I'll take the extra 5 days with gratitude.


I'll leave you with this picture of my meds. These are almost all of the meds I've taken since surgery. The top row is almost entirely narcotics. Yuck! I'm so ready to be done with all of these!!!

To treat, or not to treat?

Friends, I'm feeling good. No, really. I have a little pain still near my sacrum. At this point, it just feels like I've bruised my tailbone, which, when compared with the pain I've grown accustomed to, really isn't all that bad.


My hair is just barely starting to grow back. I have small, blonde hairs on one leg and I feel like the fuzz on the back of my head is fuzzier. If I get treatment #6, it's likely I'll lose more hair, or at least the regrowth. Doug and I joked about the hair growing on my legs. I was so excited to see it. He's convinced I'll never shave my legs again. He may be right. =)


Over the weekend, I developed a rash on my head, which spread to my face. By Sunday night, I was convinced it was a staph infection. I went to the doctor this morning and was informed it's shingles. Dr. Kotz said if it was any higher up on my face, I would've had to go to the eye doctor for a shot in my eye. Thank GOD for little victories. Anyway, if you are pregnant, or if you haven't had chicken pox or the chicken pox vaccine, then you need to stay away from me. The shingles don't hurt much, yet. My hope is that I've started the meds for it early enough that they won't become too painful. Right now it just feels like little tiny stabs in and around my ear.


For now, all the scans I was scheduled for (CT of Abdomen & Bone Scan) are cancelled until further notice. I will see Dr. Kotz on Wednesday, but still no decision yet on whether or not I will get treatment #6. I can't take the steroids I usually take before and after chemo b/c of the shingles. Dr. Kotz said we still have options:

1. No 6th treatment, which means I would start radiation next week.
2. Treat without the Taxotere.
3. Regular treatment, worse side effects b/c I wouldn't have had the steroids.

We'll see.... 

Wait and See

We met with Dr. Kotz on Wednesday to discuss possible changes to my treatment plan. I'm feeling pretty good, in general. I have more energy. I'm tired, but not exhausted. The joint pain, however, has not improved. In fact, it hurts now in my lower back/hip region, a constant pain that seems worse than the other joint pain. We've changed pain meds and the new stuff (a low dose of  Dilaudid) is helping more than any of the former options. It doesn't make me feel wacky and it knocks out more of the pain than the Vicadin or Percoset ever did.


There are some concerns that have put us in "wait and see" mode, as I call it. I'll have my MUGA scan later this morning to determine if the Adriamycin ("Red Devil" part of my chemo) has caused any heart damage. I scored 61.3% (normal range) on my first MUGA, the baseline I did in January. I'm told there is usually some variation in the scoring based on the technician performing the scan, and as long as my score remains at least in the 50-55% range, chemo is still an option. We are hopeful that results will be available tonight. We'll have them Monday at the latest. Dr. Kotz also wants to see my pain get better/go away before we do more chemo. We're hoping that the pain is truly just a side effect of the Taxotere, but he's been lowering the doses and the pain has been worse, not better. Dr. Kotz mentioned that the pain could be a sign that the cancer has metastasized to my bones BUT it's highly unlikely. If the cancer metastasized while I was going through chemo, it would mean that the chemo didn't work at all, and bone cancer is incurable. If it's bone mets, we stop everything and work to extend life/manage pain/minimize spread. We all agree that it's NOT that. Got it? Dr. Kotz thinks the chances that it's bone mets are VERY low. Anyway, here's what Dr. Kotz offered as options, in order of his preferences:

1. Delay chemo #6 by a week. I haven't delayed or missed any treatments yet. Delaying the last would give us time to see if my pain resolves. If it does, yay! If not, I go for a bone scan.
2. Don't do chemo #6. That would move me into the radiation phase of treatment the week of May 5.
3. Further modify chemo #6, dropping the Adriamycin from the "TAC" regimen I'm on and having TC only.

For now, I'm leaning toward treatment #1, mostly because I want to be aggressive with treatment to improve my long term survival stats. I want to be in that 63% alive after 5, ya know?! Right now, though, there are no firm decisions. Right now, we wait and see, for MUGA results and for pain to go away.  I'll update you all on the results soon. 

Update: What doesn't kill you makes you stronger....   MUGA results are in & its good news. My ejection fraction is BETTER than when I had my baseline done. 67.4% today. Woohoo! No heart damage here. Tachycardia & difficulty catching my breath were/are likely from the cumulative exhaustion from chemo. This makes me feel even more confident that the pain will also resolve & end up being just a crappy side effect. Hopefully it goes away in the next 10 days so I can make some decisions about treatment & keep moving forward. 


It's going to be a busy weekend for fellowship and fundraising!  I'll be headed to Relay for Life tonight, St. Baldrick's Shave for Sean tomorrow & Spring Festival at Old River Farms Sunday. I may just sit around and smile at people, but at least I'll be out of the house!!

This Week's News

I have a secret to tell you. Chemo sucks. I know you already have an understanding of this if you've been reading this blog or if you've encountered me in the last 4 months. It sucks, in so many ways, but I think what I find surprising is how different it sucks with each infusion. We were naïve to think that we could plan for the ups and downs based on the effects of the first infusion.


Today is day 10 of the 5th infusion cycle. The first 5 days (Wed-Sun) were marked with the typical exhaustion, pain, metal-mouth, general ick-feeling effects, but with added nausea, aching teeth, a couple of mouth sores, the worst breath I've ever had and a stubborn yellow coating on my tongue. Over the weekend, the pain in my legs was ridiculous. I was irritable and having hot flashes, which seem to me confirmation that my ovaries have finally given up the fight against the chemo. Fun, right? I have to say, in general, I was feeling better sooner. By Monday, I was up and moving around for short periods of time. Still a lot of pain in my joints, but I wasn't as tired and I was ready to get back to normal.


And that's when things started to take a turn...


On Monday, I noticed how exhausted I was from a walk to the mailbox. Monday night, I noticed my heart was pounding while I was just laying in bed. I pulled out my nifty heart rate monitor app and my heart rate was up around 100bpm (my norm is 78-85). Strange. Tuesday, I walked to the mailbox (the extent of my exercise these days), and was really short of breath by the time I got back to my couch. Panting, I checked my heart rate again and it was 115 and had only recovered to 103 after several minutes of sitting and resting. On Wednesday, I called the doctor.


Dr. Kotz wanted to check my blood counts. It was entirely possible that my counts were low and my heart was just trying to compensate. But my counts were within a range he's used to seeing (low, but not scary low). Then, I took a walk down his long hallway with a pulse/ox monitor on my finger and a nurse attached to the other end (hehe...) My blood is oxygenating just fine, 98. But my heart rate went up to 109 from a slow walk down the hall.  When we sat down, he listed 3 concerns: Pneumotitis, Pulmonary Embolism (blood clot in my lung) or possible Heart Damage. He sent me over to the hospital for a CT Scan to check for the lung related issues, and scheduled a MUGA Scan for next Friday to check on my heart.


Other than some anxiety (funny I get "test" anxiety now, but never in school), and a Vascular Access Team tech that completely missed my port and stabbed me in the chest with the needle, wiggling it around in there before deciding she really didn't have access and trying again [insert more anxiety here], the CT Scan went well. Once again, I heard from Dr. Kotz that everything was clear before the radiology staff had even sent me home. I'm relieved that my lungs remain clear, but now I'm concerned that chemo may have already caused damage to my heart. I'm holding on to hope that the shortness of breath and heart rate issues are just another side effect, a strange and unwelcome addition to the growing list of crap chemo has brought into my world. Guess we'll find out next Friday. In the meantime, I'm going to keep focusing on feeling better, trying not to overdo it, catching up on some work, and spending some time with my family. I'm trying to not get overly hopeful, but the doc did mention we may not do the last round of chemo. More on that later, but I'll tell you, I am actually excited at the idea that I may not have to go through this again at the end of the month, that I might already be on the road to recovery from chemo for good!


In other good news, I had my very thorough screening for Ovarian Cancer (we're checking quarterly until I have the parts removed later this year) and all is clear! Somebody ring a bell!!

Chemo & Updates (Treatments 4 & 5)

Sorry for the posting delays. After treatment 4, I really needed to focus on catching up with work rather than other things, and at first it didn't feel like I had much to say. That's changed a bit.


Backtracking to the week of treatment 4:
Kayla and Natalie came to visit, all the way from MN. I can't begin to tell you how much this cheered me up. We spent an overnight in Raleigh, stopped for some outlet shopping on the way back to Wilmington (the highlight of which was the Harry & David snacking in my car with the heat cranked up - Spring Break isn't supposed to be cold, especially not in the south!) Lots of us-time, eating, shopping, and doctor's visits were crammed into a few short days. Lots of smiles and laughter. Kayla even held my hand through the fill-up at Dr. Kays on that Monday. Too short a visit, but I loved every second of it!


I've made the decision to delay the 2nd phase of reconstruction. This isn't just because of all the flip-flopping that's been happening, but because of research. The more I do, the more I find that delaying the 2nd phase of reconstruction (swapping expanders for implants, and the bonus fat-grafting) to 5-6 months after radiation improves outcomes for both. Even a book chapter coauthored by Dr. Kays' mentor elaborates on this common practice (See Chapter 49: Reconstruction of the Irradiated Breast here: http://www.drscottspear.com/plastic-surgery-publications-washington-dc/).


The next year should look something like this:
Chemo #6 - April 30, with about 3-4 weeks recovery. I'm hoping to take the entire month of May to bounce back & prepare for radiation.
Radiation - June through Mid-July. Every weekday for 6 weeks (30 treatments).
Tamoxifen - This drug is a targeted therapy that will block estrogen in my system to help prevent reoccurrence of the cancer. I'll start this the day after I complete radiation, and take it daily for 10yrs. It has a host of "fun" side-effects, but I'll deal with that later. Enough is enough right now, ya know!
Laprascopic, Supra-Cervical Hysterectomy - Hopefully in the fall (late September or early October, with a short recovery time).
Reconstruction, 2nd phase - early December, which puts me at 5 months between radiation and surgery. Hopefully that's enough time for the skin and wound sites to heal really well, so that surgery goes off without complications. Nipple (and possibly scar) tattooing to follow as soon as I've recovered.


I think this schedule seems reasonable, and allows for a decent amount of recovery time in between phases, which I'll need. I drastically underestimated the exhaustion, pain and downtime I'd need at the outset of chemo. I'm looking forward to the fact that each of these future treatments and surgery should pale in comparison to what I've been through in the past few months. Of course, there will be a number of regularly scheduled follow-ups with each doctor on the team as I move forward.


Ok, back to treatment 4. Dr. Kotz reviewed all of my side effects and recommended that I decrease the dosing for my chemo. He explained that dosing is crude, in general, just based on a height/weight combo and doesn't account for how an individuals body processed the toxins. Also, studies show that getting the full 6 rounds does more good than getting only 4 of this particular protocol. Delays or missed treatments due to side effects would do more harm than just decreasing the amount in each of treatments 4-6. We made the decision to cut treatment 4's dose back by nearly 20% (though I thought it was closer to 10% at the time). Between the lower dose and not having pneumonia, my body handled round 4 much better. I was still tired, but not completely knocked out for 10 days like I'd been before. I only experienced 1 day of tummy troubles. Food and drink were still an issue, and I actually experienced some sudden nausea here and there, but truly not bad as compared to treatments 2 & 3, which were awful. The bone pain from the Neulasta was a bit worse, but Dr. Kotz said that could happen as a result of having less of the chemo in my system. The worst part was joint pain, we think from the Taxotere. I was knocked to the floor on more than one occasion from shooting pains in my hips and knees, and we even had to call Mom & Bob for backup help to get me up, comfortable and keep Charlotte distracted. The joint pain has persisted throughout, in my hips, knees, ankles and even across the tops of my feet. There seems to be less of it by day 18, but it never really goes away. Dr. Kotz is slightly concerned that this effect may outlast the treatments. I'm going to deal with what comes at this point. I have enough on my mind just getting through right now.


At one point, I was very concerned about all the pain, and started doing some research, which eventually led me to research another topic, which led to some of my hesitation in posting after treatment 4. I wanted to confirm what I'd found before sharing. So, I started looking up search terms like "joint pain" & "chemo" and found a lovely, but uncommon condition called AVN (

http://www.cedars-sinai.edu/Patients/Health-Conditions/Avascular-Necrosis.aspx

). It's a form of vascular necrosis that occurs when blood flow is decreased or cut off from the bones, and can be caused by the chemo regimen I'm on. I don't know which was worse, knowing that my regimen could cause this lovely condition or the use of the term "uncommon" because we all know my track record with being in those small percentages....  Anyway, the good news there is that Dr. Kotz doesn't suspect it at all. He truly believes my pain is from the Taxotere. We focused a lot of our conversation at treatment 5 around managing pain. I'll get back to that though. I started doing more research because I have a hard time visualizing measurements. I had a 5.5cm tumor, and centimeters seem so small to me, yet everyone keeps talking about how big that is for a breast tumor. I needed a visual, and I found one that made it all make sense, one that won't leave my mind because I find it extraordinarily hard to believe that this was in my body: a tumor somewhat larger than a lime. Here it is folks, see for yourself: http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/breast-cancer/multimedia/tumor-size/img-20006260  I particularly enjoy the last sentence on that link from the Mayo Clinic where it reinforces my connection to the rare. I'm such an oddball, because "Sometimes tumors larger than 5cm can be found in the breast."  Yeah...sometimes...


So, I continued my search for information, partially out of curiosity and partially because people have asked and I have no idea how to respond to the specific question: "What's my prognosis?" Dr. Kotz has been great to talk about reducing recurrence rates, but he's never mentioned any stats to me about my actual prognosis. Well, I didn't like what I found, and I was hesitant to write about it or share it with friends and family until it was confirmed. But here it is: Based on factors like age, tumor size, node involvement, grading, and Oncatype, I have at best, a 63% 5-year survivability rate. That means there is a 63% chance I will be alive in 5 years. Nothing like a definite number that is shockingly low to shake you up a bit. Though, I guess it's better than 50/50. These numbers are based on large studies (more than 20,000 patients followed for more than a 5 year period), and other reasons for death that are faced by the general population were already factored out (like car accidents, other unrelated illness, etc). The survivability numbers drop significantly due to the tumor size (funny how searching more on tumor size led me here) and being young doesn't help here either, as cancer tends to be more aggressive in young women. Anyway, when I brought these stats to Dr. Kotz, he agreed, but he also reassured me that I've made smart, aggressive choices about my treatment and I'm doing everything I can to make sure I'm in that 63%. And I will be. That is all! Treatment decisions, faith, family & lifestyle changes. That's how I know I WILL be alive in 5 years.  


For treatment #5, we left the Taxotere dropped back by the nearly 20%, same as last time, but increased the Cytoxan and Adriamycin to about a 10% reduction, as it seems I handle them better. It's time to get through these recovery weeks and then I can focus on the fact that I have only one more of these to go. In the meantime, I need to keep focused on catching up on grading so my students don't revolt. I hate feeling like I'm less than my best when it comes to teaching. OK, with my type-A personality, let's face it - I hate feeling less than my best at anything, but cancer is humbling in that way and I'm learning to cope. The month ahead is going to be super busy, between events like Relay for Life & St. Baldrick's Shave for Sean, birthdays, holidays, school events for Charlotte and Kindergarten registration(!), recovery and work. I'd love your prayers and warm wishes for an easy and fast recovery period!


I've been getting so much love and warm wishes from friends, colleagues and church family. Please know your cards, notes, Facebook messages are all received and I love them. They really do cheer me up on the low days!  Thanks all!

Chemo & Updates (Treatment #3): Flip Flops, Fat Grafting & Fun

Treatment week rolled around once again, starting with a visit to Dr. Kays for another expansion. I opted for another double-fill, assured by Dr. Kays that he'd stop if it started to hurt. About 3/4 through the second syringe, I'd had enough and told him so. He didn't stop, instead assuring me that he was almost done anyway. To me, that violates the trust. Then he starts telling us about the "Breast" conference he recently attended...


If you've been reading earlier posts in this blog, you know that my family and I have agonized over a certain decision in my care plan: whether to have radiation before or after the 2nd stage of my breast reconstruction. Dr. Kays has been adamantly advocating for reconstruction before radiation since we've known that radiation would be part of my treatment plan. I've spent a lot of time and mental energy on the choice, and just 3 weeks ago came to the decision that I would move forward with reconstruction before radiation. I was even a little excited to share the news with Dr. Kays at my appointment. And then came the Flip Flop.


Dr. Kays was excited to share the hot topic from the conference, a procedure called Fat Grafting. Not entirely new to the breast reconstruction scene, the procedure uses fat, obtained through liposuction of the stomach, buttocks and thighs, to fill in and fill out the reconstructed breast. Most of the research I've found (breastcancer.org, Johns Hopkins and NIH) refers to fat grafting to reconstruct the breast instead of implants, flaps, and other techniques, or for it to fix less-than-smooth results.  Surgeons at the conference were focusing on their experience using Fat Grafting as a supplement to implants, which is why Dr. Kays bothered to share this information with us. The problem is that radiating a fat graft renders it useless. The radiation will destroy the transferred cells. If I'm to benefit from the latest and greatest in breast reconstruction, I'll have to wait 5-6 months after radiation to have the 2nd stage of my breast reconstruction. That puts the reconstruction surgery on the calendar in early December 2014. The longer wait allows the skin in the radiated area to heal, hopefully resulting in smaller chances for infection and failure of the reconstruction, which, if you recall, is the primary reason we were advised to get reconstruction before radiation in the first place. And these expanders hurt!  I'm not thrilled at the idea of having them in for nearly a year! So now, I'm back to square one with that decision: radiation or reconstruction first? Fat Grafting or not? I want the safest, best results. I'm excited about the latest and greatest. I'm all for removing fat from my stomach, thighs and butt (ok, maybe not all for it, there are added risks when liposuction is added to the process). But is it worth the risk? Should I reconsider? I left the appointment feeling very irritated. Not only did my doctor not stop after I expressed discomfort, he's also completely changed his mind about the course of treatment I should take, because of what he learned at one conference and, as we discussed it, he seemed just as determined to see me go for the Fat Grafting option as he'd been for the reconstruction before radiation option earlier on.


The upper respiratory infection that I had after the 2nd chemo infusion was mostly resolved by Wednesday morning, in time for my 3rd infusion. My blood work was right in line with expectations. 3rd infusion went on without a hitch. I managed to bleed through my port afterward, soaking the dressing and getting blood on my shirt, but that was my own snafu. I leaned over and picked up a heavy bag immediately after I was disconnected. Apparently that wasn't smart idea.  The side effects started almost immediately and have been worse this time. I was tired right away. In fact, I came home and went right to bed, getting up for about 15 minutes to eat dinner, but not staying through the meal. I went into town Thursday to get my shot, met a friend for coffee (which always lifts my spirits) and stopped by the bank. I was utterly exhausted by the time I got home. I crawled into bed and pretty much stayed there for the next 7 days. I slept so much that most of last week is a blur. I certainly got my $8 worth of Netflix this month! Pains in my joints, particularly my hips, knees and feet were a constant for a few of those days, and I'm still tired and dealing with the joint pains as I write this blog entry (day 10). At least twice, the pain caught me off guard while walking and knocked me to the ground (literally). That nasty cough came back on day 6. Day 8, I had to have a Chest X-ray, day 9 a CT Scan. Dr. Kotz was concerned the cough was a rarer side effect that causes inflammation in the lungs, rather than an infection. All the tests came back clear and I was given a really strong antibiotic called Avelox. Speaking of rare side effects, I had a new addition to my repertoire: changes to skin. I'm being euphemistic to spare you. In the shower, I discovered that the skin in a particularly sensitive area has started to peel and thin. Normally, doctors can prescribe a cream that aids in healing and comfort, but that cream has estrogen, so it's not an option for me. I was assured that it would heal eventually. Really? Thanks. That's great, eventually.


I've been down in the dumps a lot this time. I'm struggling to cope with the loss of physical beauty, body parts, self-image, identity. Cancer and the treatment of cancer has impacted my physical relationship with the world, but also my emotional and intellectual relationships with it. I'm having trouble articulating thoughts. I'm forgetting things all the time. I'm behind on work. I can't hug tight, sleep right. Everything is slower. I hobble when I walk some days and something always hurts. I've never known extreme tired the way I've known it lately. And it's getting really hard to imagine feeling better, feeling normal again. I have no idea what normal will look like once this is over and it's frustrating to not really know when this will be over. I feel weak, wussy. My confidence is shaken, my sense of self rattled. I look around and see the beauty that is my support system and I'm reminded that my support team and my faith carries me through when I can't do it on my own.


I've read a lot of articles, testimonials, blogs, etc., that discuss the language of cancer, the idea of the warrior, the fighter, the soldier, the team. We try so hard to articulate the experience or to try to understand in a way that is familiar. We search for the right way to name our identities and to describe the experience of cancer but we are rhetorically ill-equipped. So what? Why do the words matter? Right now, I think the words matter because a person with cancer (whether living with it, dying from it, surviving, fighting, soldiering on...) wants to hold on to their identity, their normalcy, despite cancer's grasp on all they've known. I've heard it said, "Cancer is a gift." In fact, I'm pretty sure I've uttered those words myself (insert retrospective YUCK! here). But it's not. Cancer is a thief. Cancer is an alien. Cancer is certainly not a gift. If it were, I'd give it back, or throw it out. I do think that our desire to grapple with the language of cancer is evidence of a deeper need, one I explore regularly and have yet to understand. I do think cancer can be a catalyst, and in that, there is hope. I will continue to grapple with my identity and my life as I move forward with my treatment. I am blessed and inspired by the support that surrounds me. And I am moved to do something to recognize and help those that aren't as well-supported as I am.


Through this blog, I've found a voice. My goal has always been to be honest, open and informative, to help others understand. According to my blog stats, readers have visited my blog site more than 6300 times, including a small international audience. I'm humbled and inspired. And I'd like to ask all of you to reach out and help others with cancer, too. There are all sorts of ways to this, but I have some in mind I'd like to share.


On Saturday, March 8, an organization in my local area is having a fundraiser. Women of Hope NC has joined up with Old River Farms to host Hiking for Hope, a day of hiking, hay rides, music, storytelling and fun. I'll be there. Will you?  I'm so inspired by this organization and all they've done to help women in my local community. I'll be there even if I don't feel well. Please check out their website at http://womenofhopenc.org/


On April 26, it's Shave for Sean time! Remember the sweet boy I mentioned who taught me all about ports and chemo, who has inspired me to stay strong? This event honors him. You may have heard about the St. Baldrick's Foundation. They are a volunteer-driven charity that funds more in childhood cancer research grants than any organization except the U.S. government. You can participate or donate here: http://www.stbaldricks.org/events/shaveforsean2


Also, Relay for Life events are gearing up all over the country. Consider participating in the relay, supporting someone who is, or donating to the American Cancer Society.