Wired for Cancer Killin

So my trip down to CTCA yesterday went fine. It was such a long day though - and my little Ginger was such a trooper. I literally left the house w/ her at 7:15 am and we didn't get back home here till 5pm - then I had to drop Ginger off pick up Madeline and take her to the dr to see what was wrong with her - and she and I didn't get home till 7:30pm. Oy. There were a few moments at the end of this for me where I literally wanted to scream, but I didn't. Raise my voice? My yes, but yell - no. Oy. Madeline is doing just fine today (of course! I went to the dr!) and thankfully is finally going back to school tomorrow.

So, here's the skinny on my upcoming treatment. The dr I ended up seeing was NOT a surgeon, he is a oncologist but he is the oncologist that developed the protocol for thereasphere. Shut the front door!! Get out!!! Yes, so he was a very gentle man who I could tell spoke levels upon levels above my intelligence, but he knew enough at the end to let me know that his nurse would come in and explain everything again to me - which relieved me a bit too. He examined me - examined my liver. I've never had a liver examination before, but this means he basically poked around my right gut area, then drew on me with a purple marker and his wife who is also his nurse (talk about fringe benefits) wrote down some mathematical figures he threw out. Then he sat with me, asked me a couple questions, looked over my blood work and told me that I did fit the parameters for this protocol. Yay! So, his nurse comes in and starts to explain the procedure to me in great detail and I'm sitting there thinking to myself, 'just listen to everything and write down what you need to' I was so afraid I wouldn't remember everything being there by myself. She explained that the 'mapping' is really a 'test run' of the actual procedure. They go in through my main artery in my groin, and actually insert the catheter, insert some coil blockers where the blood supply goes to my lungs and my stomach because we don't want any of these beads going in those areas, then they shoot dye into me. Then they close it all up and I go to an observation area and they watch me for a couple hours to see where the dye goes - to make sure it gets to where my tumor is. They want to make sure when they have the real stuff it goes exactly where they want it to go - pretty cool eh? Then they order up the beads, especially made for me, and it gets sent to them. Once it's received, about 10 days later, I go in for the procedure. Here's the added 'feature' of this that I didn't know about. This protocol has a chemo arm to it - there is theresphere by itself, then there is theresphere with 3 different types of chemo that work along side of it. My onc has recommended a chemo regime for 6 days following my procedure. I will be hooked up with one drug (mostly folinic acid to work in connection with the upcoming chemo drug) which I will stay on, continually for 6 days. Then, starting day 1 after the procedure, I will have a chemo infusion for 20 minutes a day for 6 days. Wow. Didn't know this part. The drug I'm hooked up to continually is called leucovorin and I just wikipedia'd it and its a pretty interesting read if you're up for it. Then the chemo drug I will be administered for 6 days in a row will be a drug called floxuridine. I just googled this drug and according to the info on the American Cancer Society website, this drug is used to treat some cancers that have spread to the liver. Hmmm. I'm a little taken aback by this. My chemo vocabulary was, I thought, pretty extensive. When this drug name was thrown out to me I scurried to write it down because it sounded so foreign to me - now looking at it and researching it a bit, I am flabbergasted that I DIDN'T already know what this was. Whatever, just another reason validating why I am where I am right now. Wow.

So, I think I'm pretty much going to have to stay down in the Phx area for the entire time of my f.u chemo - it wouldn't make any sense for me to drive back and forth for 6 days - that would be crazy. OH - and I'm not radioactive - that was some misinformation I was given, so that's good I guess - no buster collar needed. Now - I meet w/ the radiologist for a consult on Tues and once he gives me the GO - we'll set up the appt for the mapping then the appt for the procedure. As much as I wanted to plan this over Madeline's fall break, I don't think it's going to work out that way. We're going to have to find someone to come up and watch my kids for me while I'm in Phx, and we'd like to arrange it where PJ would be there for my procedure and mapping, but I would do the 6 day chemo by myself so he could be here to be with the girls. We just need some help, and I know we'll figure it out somehow. I had no idea the chemo was involved, that just makes it a harder to schedule. Yes, I am so stressed about this, I can't help it. Ya know, it was a lot easier to take time off from my insurance job way back when then to try to take time off of being a mother to a 5 and a 2 year old. How does that make any sense???

I feel like my brain is on overload. I am a creature of habit and my whole 'cancer world' has changed - all of my doing, I realize that. This procedure is a bit scary to me, but something I know I must do. Again, it just makes sense to me. My hair continues to fall out, and I just don't have the best self image thing going for me right now. But I am slowly embracing this new path, and gearing up for this amazing procedure in this place called CTCA which I know I was lead to. On that note, I have to close with the following:

So, I'm sitting there in the waiting room waiting to be called for my chest CT scan yesterday, when the lady at the front desk says 'Dina, do you want one?' and holds up this box. I go up to the desk, and she has offered me a bible. It's a pink leather bound bible - in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness month. I looked at her and said 'wow - that is lovely, yes thank you'. CTCA was giving them away to anyone who wanted them. wha? So I open it up, and this was the page I opened up to - I have to share this, cuz this is amazing:

Holding on to Hope

Your grip on hope is slipping. You feel like the rope you've been hanging on to since your cancer began is slowly sliding through your fingers. Your hands are burning, cramping. You're down to the final few loose threads. You're squeezing the life out of that fraying, lifeless hope.

Let go.

Did you hear that?

Let go!

You won't fall into oblivion or hellish chaos.

You'll fall where you've actually been all along, even while tenaciously clutching your rope.

You'll fall into Jesus' arms. Into his love and protection. Into his care for you and your future.

You do have a future, you know. It may not look exactly like the future you were envisioning. It may include more suffering and pain. It may include more years....or fewer.

But it's exactly the future God had planned for you from the beginning. He knows your body better than you, better than any of your doctors.

You may be mystified by what's happening inside your body, bewildered by the decisions that need to be made, uncertain of what tomorrow will bring.

But never forget: You have hope.

Instead of a weak and raveling rope, hang on to your Creator, the source of your hope.

He's got you and your future in his very skilled hands.


God Bless -