Monday, March 26, 2007

I saw Dr. Lloyd last Thursday. My parents went with me so that we could get the "official" report on the PET/CT scan. He again said that the report showed no cancer activity at all and that I was completely clear. As I expected, he wants me to finish up the full six treatments so after seeing him I had the 5th infusion last Thursday. After the chemo is finished, he will want me to receive Herceptin  "indefinitely". Herceptin is not considered a chemotherapy drug but is still given intravenously every three weeks. I'm hoping that someday another delivery system will be developed (pill or shot). Anyway, I am feeling awesome and am grateful to be in remission.

I attended a "Cancer Wellness" retreat this past weekend. I was really looking forward to three days of rest, relaxation, and time to myself. I was not disappointed. My household can be somewhat chaotic and, with three school age kids, it's the very rare moment that I'm home alone and everything is quiet. There were 21 of us on retreat: 20 women and 1 man. Most women were in their 40s and 50s. I think the majority had had breast cancer. Many of the women were single mothers. We could all relate to each other's stories. We all came from different places and had different experiences prior to diagnosis but going through the cancer experience forges bonds that are difficult to articulate. Some of us were still in treatment, some had been out for a few years. Some wore wigs, some wore hats, some had hair. I found myself in a different emotional place than most of them. There was a lot of anger expressed, a lot of brokenness, a lot of grief, even for those who had finished treatment years ago. Cancer can really suck the joy out of someone's life. I found myself acting in the role of cheerleader or guide, saying "You can get past this, you don't have to go through life fearful all the time." Maybe that was my purpose in being there, aside from what I wanted to get out of the weekend for myself. One thing that I observed is that most people dealing with cancer try to be so strong in front of family and friends. They don't want pity or sympathy. The people closest to them haven't had this experience, though, and really can't understand what it's like so the patient holds the feelings inside which ferment and turn to anger and resentment. Weekends like this are good to offer a place to vent to people who know exactly what you're feeling. Getting it out is cleansing. Rehashing it and marinating in it just perpetuates it, in my mind, but it was good to see so many people able to release so much "stuff." I've been through my own journey during the past four years and found a book by Louise Hay, "You Can Heal Your Life" to be particularly helpful in helping me release all the garbage I've held on to. The weekend for me was not a time to vent but a time to be quiet and a time to connect to God without worrying about interruptions. It was a great weekend.

Monday, March 19, 2007

I was supposed to go to the infusion center last Friday for a Procrit shot but I forgot. I drove in first thing this morning and while I was there, ended up seeing Dr. Lloyd. He asked if he had called me with a report from my PET/CT scan. I said, "Yes, you did. Thank you." He said, "It was a VERY good report, Cheryl. All the areas that showed active cancer on your last scan are now inactive." I asked, "Does that mean that now I can technically say I'm in remission?" He said, "Yes." I told him, "I never expected anything less." He laughed and said, "I like your confidence."

I shed a few tears of gratitude in the car as I left the medical center. Not a bad way to start the week. Of course, he didn't say, "Let's forget the two other infusions I had planned for you."  I have one scheduled this Thursday.

I've held unwavering faith that this would come to pass. Is it a miracle? All of life is a miracle. I bless everything and everyone that has come into my life. Life is too short to waste energy thinking negative things about people or circumstances. Like attracts like. Negative energy creates more of itself. Positive energy creates more of itself. Love creates love. We are all connected. The things that irritate me or anger me in other people are the things I turn a blind eye to in myself. Life is a mirror. I don't know that I'd make all the same choices (in fact, I'm sure of a few instances where I definitely would choose differently) but I embrace it all and appreciate the place I am in right now. 

Thursday, March 15, 2007

Phone message left today at 2:29 pm

"Hi Cheryl. Dr. Lloyd calling. You had a very good report on your PET/CT scan so we'll discuss it at the time of your next visit but it was very favorable with marked improvement in all aspects of the cancer. So, congratulations on what's a very good report. Bye, bye."

Monday, March 12, 2007

Curiously, I didn't experience a "down day" after the last big infusion. Albert and I had a gig on Saturday night, March 3. I took a short nap late that afternoon but, otherwise, was fine. I was able to do my regular Sunday stuff. I received the Gemzar booster last Thursday, the 8th. No problems with that. Dr. Lloyd wants a PET scan now so I'll be doing that tomorrow. He has high expectations that things will be much improved over the scan I had in November. Early on in the treatment I was anxious to know of improvements. I wanted proof that things were "working". It's odd but now I'm not on pins and needles to know the results. I KNOW that things are better, I can feel the difference and mentally, I've come into a place where I believe in the truth of my healing.

In other news, the band is rehearsing, it's going very well. We've got some dates scheduled. I was able to squeeze in a little more recording time this weekend. We're anxiously awaiting news from UCSD as to whether Sara was accepted on not. We should hear within the next couple of weeks. She's already been accepted at UCR.

Thursday, March 1, 2007

FINALLY, I'm back on track, treatment-wise. My numbers were all really good today so they blasted me ;-)  The tumor markers last week were down again, this time they were 47. I'm getting pretty close to that normal range again (<35). I'm feeling good. Albert and I are singing tomorrow night and Saturday night (check the News/Schedule page for location/time info.) I only have one mass scheduled for Sunday. I'm going to try extra hard to make that one.

We celebrated Michael's Birthday on Tuesday night. He celebrated turning 21 by ordering a Root Beer Float. What a party guy! We had a nice time.

Monday, February 26, 2007

Not much new to report. Last Thursday, my white cells were still too low to receive the chemo so I got a dose of Herceptin, a shot of Procrit and a shot of Neupogen. Neupogen helps boost white cell production. So, I've had a nice, unplanned respite from the chemo. Likely, things will get back on track this Thursday. I got a fair amount of recording in over the weekend. I'm working on an a capella version of "Lord of All Hopefulness." In non-musician terms that means voices only, no instruments. Tomorrow is my oldest child's 21st birthday. Amazing. He's a film student at Brooks Institute in Ventura and I visited him on the set of a film he was shooting last week. He's the director. It was very impressive. It totally looked like a Hollywood production: sets, actors in costume, crew members with walkie talkies, lights, camera, mic boom, sound engineers, monitors, cables running everywhere. In the midst of it all, in charge, is my son. I'm very proud of him. I can easily envision him making a living in the film business. What makes me proudest, though, is that he's a nice, decent human being and he still calls his mother for advice.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

I was scheduled for my fourth "long" infusion today but my white blood cell and red blood cell counts are too low. I feel fine, however. Dr. Lloyd was a little perplexed that I wasn't feeling fatigued. Apparently, I'm WAY anemic. He said that normally when he sees people with the counts I have, they're laid out flat. He says I'm tough. I did receive an infusion of Herceptin and another shot of Procrit. Anyway, I'll go back next week and we'll see how my counts are then. Presumably, I'll be ok to receive the chemo then. This will shift the remainder of my treatment off a week but looking at the calendar and upcoming gigs/events, it actually works out better. My tumor marker count from February 1st is 57, so the direction continues to be good. I have not experienced any nausea or hair loss with this set of treatments. I often don't even think about the fact that I'm in treatment.

Friday, February 9, 2007

Had auditions last night again for a bass player for the band and this time we have a winner. Paul Cooney will be joining the band. He's a very laid back guy, willing to jump in and try stuff, a quick learner and someone who, I think, will fit right in. Very cool. We've given him all the material and will give him three or four weeks to listen and learn and then we'll be into full bore rehearsal mode getting ready for some full  band dates in the spring and summer. In the meantime, Albert and I continue to do "duo" gigs and have two coming up this weekend and two next weekend. Come and listen! Info is on the News/Schedule page. I want to say how grateful I am to Albert, my musical partner, for being not only a fantastic musician but a truly great friend. I look forward to the many tremendous musical collaborations that the future will bring. I also want to express my excitement at working with Steven and Jess, both relatively new to the band. Steven is a lead guitarist extraordinaire. When we rehearse, and Steven is playing I'm constantly thinking, "Dang, that sounds sweet." Jess is rock steady with a great ear and I'm just really blessed to be making music with these guys. When we get some full band dates booked, watch out. We will be kicking some major booty.

Thursday, February 1, 2007

My blood counts were at a sufficient level today to receive the Gemzar booster infusion. I'm a little anemic, apparently, although I feel fine. I'll be getting a weekly shot of Procrit now. The last time I had the Gemzar booster I experienced no side effects. Next week all I have to do is go get a shot on Thursday. Next week I'll also find out what today's tumor marker count is. They should have done one last week but didn't so I had to request it on today's sample.

Last night I went to a co-worker's house to sit underneath his Beam Ray light. He's a big proponent of alternative means of therapy and owns a device which you can program to emit different light frequencies (depending on the condition you wish to treat.) Anecdotally, it's been effective for a number of conditions within his family (and even for his pets.) What the heck. It was painless. His wife provided a delicious dinner while I sat  in front of the light. I'm willing to try most anything. 

In other news, we (my band NinthLife) lost our bass player. It's not that we left him standing on a corner somewhere but for reasons that the rest of us understand and support, Carlos has had to leave the band. Above and beyond appreciating his great attitude and bass chops, we have come to love him as a friend and know that he needs to devote his time in other areas. So, we're auditioning bass players now. Saw one last week, will see another one tonight and we have four more waiting to audition. Aside from ability, chemistry and group dynamics are important factors.

Friday, January 26, 2007

Well, I finished the radiation on Wednesday and had my third big chemo infusion yesterday. I'm still feeling ok and don't expect to feel any side effects until Sunday. I've made arrangements for my Sunday masses to be covered in case I don't feel like getting out of bed Sunday morning. We'll see. Other than the "down day" after a big infusion, I'm feeling great. It appears that Dr. Lloyd will order a set of scans after the 4th infusion, so in about a month or so, we'll see what kind of improvement has taken place. I've become a big fan of a movie called "The Secret". I bought the DVD and watch it frequently. It's got me totally jazzed me up about the ability of our minds and attitudes to influence our circumstances. I can't recommend it HIGHLY enough for anyone interested in this sort of thing. I use some of the suggested processes daily. If you're curious about "The Secret", click here to go to the website:   

Thursday, January 18

I went to see Dr. Lloyd today anticipating that I would receive the Gemzar booster. My blood counts were fine and my daily temperature since last week has been normal. Surprisingly Dr. Lloyd said he'd rather just have me skip the Gemzar booster altogether and stay on schedule with the regular infusion next week. That's cool by me. The less drugs in my body the better. I'm 60% done with the radiation. Only four more to go. I saw Dr. Dolkar again two days ago and asked her how she determines whether the radiation is doing what it's supposed to do. She said her main gauge is a reduction in pain that the patient feels. She said that I was in an unusual situation because the area I'm being treated for has never been a source of pain for me. The treatment is to reduce the possibility of a fracture. It's a little weird to me that the radiation is done somewhat blindly and that she had/has no inclination to see what's actually happening immediately before the 10-day course of treatment, during the course or afterwards. The treatment process is pretty simple: I go to the radiation facility, change into one of those lovely medical gowns, go to the radiation room, lay on a very hard table, get my tattoos lined up with the three positioning lasers (one each coming out of the walls to my right and left and one coming straight down on me from the ceiling), the radiation machine whirs and clicks and does it's thing for less than 30 seconds from above me, the machine rotates around beneath me and does it's whirring and clicking from underneath me for less than 30 seconds again and then I'm done, time to change and go back to work. I forgot to mention that last Thursday was my sister's last chemo session after 18 months of treatment for ovarian cancer. She has made it through everything like the champ she is and is doing very well. We have the dubious distinction of being the first set of sisters to be treated simultaneously in the infusion room. 

Thursday, January 11

Well, I went to the radiation oncologist's office yesterday and the technicians set me up for more films and when those were done, they said, "We'll start your treatment tomorrow, can you be here at 2 pm?" And I said, "I'd really like to see the doctor before I start treatment." So, I finally did get to see Dr. Dolkar and ask her if the scans are showing any improvement. She said that she didn't know because the scans they've taken didn't utilize a contrast agent and so she can't really see what's going on inside the bones. She uses the scans to plan the location of her treatment but the scans are not useful for showing what I wanted to know. I was somewhat disappointed because I want to know what's going on, you know? Is there improvement yet? Based on how my hip/leg feels I know there is but I want concrete proof. Anyway, today I went in for my booster chemo and the blood draw showed that my white cells are somewhat down. That fact, coupled with a low grade fever that I wasn't aware of until they took my temperature (99.4) meant that I could not receive the booster today. I did receive an infusion of the bone strengthening drug, Zometa. I'm on orders to take my temperature daily now and if it climbs to 100.5 I need to call the doctor's office to get an antibiotic. I feel completely fine. I will see Dr. Lloyd next Thursday and we'll see what my blood counts look like then. This may shift the remainder of my treatment plan down a week, which is kind of a bummer. Other than that, I learned that my tumor marker count taken last week before my 2nd chemo session is showing some slight improvement. It was 70 in the November 13 test which started this ball rolling (normal is 35 or under). Last week it was 67. Dr. Lloyd said that even 70 is low as far as cancer activity goes. He's seen it as high as over 4000. I did have the first dose of radiation today. Nine to go. It was quick and painless. I was hoping to avoid the hassle factor of having to go every day but c'est la vie.  

Tuesday, January 9

Last weekend turned out to be more restful than I had planned. I slept in Sunday morning, showered, and was feeling pretty good. I ran out of steam, though, while I was doing the regular "getting ready" routine. I didn't feel faint but I had to lay down. It was like someone pulled the drain on me. I rested a little bit and then decided it wasn't worth the effort and energy to finish getting ready and make the 45 minute drive to sing for my noon mass. I knew the rest of the group could handle it fine without me so I called in and then went to bed. I stayed in bed most of the day. I wasn't feeling bad or nauseous, just zapped. Yesterday, things were much better. I did remember to go to my radiation appointment yesterday but I didn't actually see the doctor. Her technicians did the CT scan on my hip and then they tattooed me so that my precise position on the table can be duplicated by laser (I have three new "moles" - very tiny black dots) and they asked me to come back Wednesday. The doctor will have looked at the scans by then and will have planned the treatment. So, at this point, I don't really know how much of a difference this scan is showing compared to previous scans. In my heart, I know there is a difference. The lack of pain tells me there is a difference. Other than that, my spirits are good, I'm feeling wonderful today and life is full of possibilities.

Saturday, January 6

Went in for my second full infusion on Thursday. It was four hours but I brought along my laptop and a movie to watch. My parents were there as always. Dr. Lloyd seemed to think it was a good sign that I haven't needed any Advil since Christmas Eve. Thursday night I was in the grocery store and realized that I was walking like a normal person: no slight limp, no pain. It felt extraordinarily good. This was the first time since July that I felt "normal". Today I'm a tad less energetic but otherwise don't feel bad. I have a very light weekend as far as activities go - only one mass tomorrow - so I'm taking advantage of the time to rest and work on some songs. Monday (unless I forget again, which is unlikely) I will see Dr. Dolkar and have the CT scan done on my hip. It would be pretty cool if the tumor in that area has already shrunk enough that radiation will not be necessary. I'm declaring that intention to the Universe...so there ;-)

Monday, January 1, 2007

It's been a week now since I've had to take any Advil at night. I see this as a really good indication that things are improving. I was supposed to see the radiation oncologist last Friday for a CT scan so they could map me for radiation. I was off work all of last week and totally lost track of my days. Bottom line: I forgot my appointment. By the time I remembered to call the doctor's office, it was too late for them to squeeze me in so I'm rescheduled now for January 8. I'm going to look at at this as a good sign, too. Obviously, this disease is on the back burner as far as my consciousness goes. The less attention I give it, the better. I do a lot of focusing on well-being and being healed and "ease" as opposed to "dis-ease". I do believe that what we focus our thoughts on and what we speak about receives energy. So, the fact that I can forget an appointment means that my mind is focusing energy in other, more enjoyable directions. Either that or I'm getting old. Anyway, on Saturday I spent a great day in Malibu at the Getty Villa museum with my girls and my aunt and uncle. Today I plan to work on some songs/recording. Coming up this week: round two of chemo. I'm curious how much fatigue I'll feel this weekend compared to the 17th (post chemo and post surgery). I felt no side effects from the booster chemo I received on the 22nd. My lungs feel normal again now. It's a new year and one that I'm confident will bring many blessings. Happy New Year.

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

This Christmas was the first one in probably more than 15 years that I didn't have masses to sing at on Christmas Day. I had my share of Christmas Eve masses (four) but this year I told the music directors that I work with that I wouldn't be available on Christmas Day, I needed to spend the day with my family. I have awesome family and friends and it was a day full of the joy of generosity, sharing and laughter. More to be grateful for: Since Christmas Eve, the discomfort in my right hip has been reduced enough that I don't need to take the pain medication (usually Advil) that I'd been taking nightly since July. Hope your Christmas (or other holiday) was joyous, too.

Friday, December 22, 2006

I had my booster chemo session this morning. It was supposed to happen yesterday afternoon. I arrived on time yesterday (2 pm) and had my blood drawn. The blood draw was through the portacath which was interesting. The nurse puts the needle in (pretty much painless), does the draw and leaves the needle there (it's kind of like a clamp and they can attach syringes or IV lines to the back side of it) until the doctor has a chance to look at the lab report and then you go back to the infusion room and they hook you up to the drugs. The doctor was running behind yesterday and I waited over an hour to see him after they drew my blood. He had to take a look at my red blood cell count, white blood cell count and platelet count, and then give the green light (or not) for treatment. My numbers were fine but by the time I was done talking with him and got back over to the infusion room, the nurses said it was too late and there was not enough time for the treatment and I needed to come back the next morning. Meanwhile, I had the needle still in me and I bargained with them. I was supposed to get Herceptin and Gemzar and we settled on me receiving the Herceptin yesterday and coming back this morning for the Gemzar. So it's done now and I don't expect any side effects this time around, which is good, because I have an awful lot of singing to do this weekend. All in all, having blood drawn and receiving treatment through the portacath is much less painful and quicker than using the arm veins. There's always something to be grateful for ;-)

Monday, December 18, 2006

My oldest daughter, Sara, is having her 18th birthday today. We celebrated last night with the grandparents at Cheesecake Factory. It was kind of a combo-birthday because my youngest daughter, Rene,  turned 16 twelve days ago and this was the first opportunity to get everybody together. I still don't have a Christmas tree yet because it rained on Saturday and I didn't feel like slogging through a wet tree lot to pick one out. Maybe tonight. I did feel a little less energetic Saturday.  Yesterday, during my morning mass, I felt like I was going to faint and had to sit down. Apparently, I'm not Wonder Woman. I think it was the combination of a lot of standing and the singing, which was a little difficult to do considering I couldn't get full breaths. It was during the "Our Father" that I had to sit and I finished the rest of the mass from the folding chair. After mass, Rene (who was with me) and I got something to eat and I felt better. By the time the noon mass came, I was feeling much improved. The pain I feel in my right pelvis/hip area is strange. It's not constant. It comes and goes. Sometimes, I can't feel any discomfort at all and I start to think, "Cool, maybe that's the end of it," and then later that night or the next day, it's as bad as it's ever been and it's quite difficult to walk. 

Saturday, December 16, 2006

It's three days now since the chemo and I'm feeling pretty normal. The surgery Thursday afternoon was delayed three hours because the surgeon was called into an emergency case and there was nothing to do but wait. As I was coming out of the anesthesia, he told me that he had tried to install the port under my left collarbone but hadn't been successful so he switched to the right collarbone. I was thinking, "Great. So now I have an extra incision." When I was able to take a look at it, I realized that it's not really an extra incision but a couple of extra puncture wounds accompanied by some swelling and bruising. The portacath site (on the right side) is likewise bruised, swollen and tender and the incision is about an inch and a half long. The port has made a bump under my skin that sticks up about half an inch but I think that with most things I wear, it's not going to be obvious. The most uncomfortable thing post-surgery was actually a weird, heavy feeling in my lungs. It hurt to take a deep breath and I felt like I was breathing shallowly. When I changed positions (standing to sitting or sitting to laying down, etc.) it actually felt like something heavy shifting around in my lungs, like fluid or something. The doctor took X-rays before he left the hospital Thursday night and was satisfied that everything looked to be in order. Things feel better today, though there's still a remnant of the shifting feeling in my lungs. I met with a radiation oncologist yesterday. There is a tumor in the femoral neck of my right leg (the narrow portion of bone that connects the femur to the hip) and Dr. Lloyd  fears that the tumor could weaken the bone to the point where I'd be in danger of a fracture since it is a weight bearing bone. Dr. Dolkar, the radiation oncologist, says she can treat the area in a two week course to shrink the tumor. I'll see her again in two weeks for a planning/mapping session.  I'm going to take it pretty easy today, my only outing will be to choose a Christmas tree. I have a bunch of singing to do tomorrow and I hope I'll be able to pull it off.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

I had the first chemo session yesterday morning. All went well. I felt fine yesterday afternoon and feel fine today. Generally, the feelings of fatigue associated with chemo don't kick in until the 3rd or 4th day after treatment so we'll see what happens tomorrow. This batch of drugs is supposed to be less harsh than what I had four years ago and I've been told that I am not likely to lose my hair this time. That would be a good thing. I'm having minor surgery this afternoon to have a "portacath" installed. It's a device that will make it easier for me to receive the chemo and it's implanted under the skin beneath my collar bone. One of the chemo drugs, Gemzar, is particularly corrosive on the veins and my doctor prefers that I have the portacath so I don't burn up all the veins in my arms. I actually slept better last night than I have in a long, long time. Since July, I've been needing to use pain relievers at night to dull the discomfort enough to get some rest and I've been using a pillow under my right leg to elevate it somewhat for comfort. I still took some Tylenol last night as a precaution and slept without the extra leg pillow - and had a pain free night. 

Monday, December 11, 2006

I have many people who have asked how I'm doing so I figured I'd post some entries here on the website. That way, anyone who is interested can find out what's up. Just keep checking back. This first one will be lengthy because there's a lot of "catch up" to do.

 I seriously never imagined I'd be back in this position. Four years ago I had breast cancer. I caught it early, it had not spread to the lymph nodes, it was relatively small and I took aggressive steps to deal with it. I made it through the chemotherapy and numerous surgeries (mastectomies and then reconstruction) and felt great. I kept a positive attitude and ate healthier. I still feel great so it was rather a shock to be told a few weeks ago that the cancer was back and was now in my bones.

 Last July I began feeling some discomfort in the right hip/upper leg area. My symptoms lined up exactly with sciatica. I know many people who have had sciatica and the way they described what it felt like sure sounded like what I was experiencing. I had read on the internet that tumors can cause sciatica-like symptoms but I do believe in the power of positive thinking and quickly banished those rogue thoughts. I've never been obsessed or worried about a recurrence. I had appointments with my oncologist, Dr. Lloyd, every four months for monitoring and everything had always been great. I had a blood test in late July that was normal so I breathed a little sigh of relief thinking, "Ok, so it's not a tumor."  The discomfort stayed much longer than most references said that sciatica would. By early October, I was in my family practitioner's office for a urinary tract infection and mentioned to her that I'd had sciatica for three months. She ordered an X-ray and an MRI. The X-ray was done right away and when I saw her again the next week for a follow up visit she said the X-ray was clear. Once again, I was relieved to "know" that there weren't any tumors that were causing the pain.

The MRI took longer to schedule (insurance approval and all that). I had my every-four-month blood test with Dr. Lloyd on November 13 and was scheduled for the MRI on November 15. I mentioned the discomfort to him and told him that I'd be having an MRI two days later. He asked if I would request that the results also be sent to him.

The next day he called to tell me that something in my blood work "concerned" him and he wanted to see me so I arranged to see him after the MRI. That's the phone call that every cancer survivor dreads. I felt a flush go through my whole body. Then a calmness began to set in. If it's one thing I am, it's calm in times of crisis. I told myself, "There's no reason to panic. This could be nothing to worry about. Even if it is something to worry about, the worst case scenario is that I'll be going home to God sooner than I had planned. I shouldn't be afraid to spend an eternity with the God who loves me so much."

The next morning I had the MRI and spent the entire time (about an hour) in prayer/meditation telling myself that everything was going to be fine. I went to Dr. Lloyd's office afterward and he said that it was my tumor markers that were slightly elevated and that he wanted me to have a PET/CT scan. Later that afternoon he called me to tell me that he had just seen the MRI films and that they were showing cancer activity in the bones of my lower spine and hip. I was able to calmly ask him, "So what does this mean?" He said that he was recommending that I go back in to treatment and that he believed I had a very good chance of responding well and going into remission. He's seen very good results with a combination of chemotherapy and a relatively new drug called Herceptin. Statistically speaking, people in my situation are lucky to last five years. But statistics won't tell you what will happen to any one individual. Dr. Lloyd asked me to have some additional tests: an Echocardiogram (some of the chemotherapy drugs can be toxic to the heart so you need a strong heart to start with), and a brain MRI.

My oldest daughter plays clarinet in the marching band at Ayala HS and the state championships were coming up that weekend. I didn't want her distracted from giving the best performance she could so I decided to wait until the weekend was over to start telling people. I told my ex-husband and my best friend (and musical collaborator/band partner) Albert. I had the Echocardiogram scheduled for the 17th, the brain MRI on the 20th and the PET/CT scan on the 21st. I hesitated to tell my parents. After I was finished with everything related to breast cancer (the first time), my sister was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She is nearing the end of her 18 months of treatment and is doing really well. We were just seeing the light at the end of the tunnel as far as our family and cancer. And now this? It seemed incredibly unfair that we were going to go through this yet again. But, I realized that, if it were one of my children dealing with an illness, of course I'd want to know. I told them and asked if they wanted to go with me to my next appointment with Dr. Lloyd on the 22nd to get an idea of what that treatment plan would be. So, the day before Thanksgiving, my parents, my sister  and my ex were with me when I met with Dr. Lloyd. The brain MRI had been clear, the Echocardiogram had been good and the PET/CT scan showed a small tumor in my lung and tumors in my hips and femurs. He was strongly recommending chemotherapy (two drugs: Carboplatin and Gemzar) along with Herceptin. He was also going to throw in some Zometa to strengthen my bones. The treatment plan would be for an infusion of Carboplatin, Gemzar & Herceptin and the following week have a booster infusion of Gemzar then skip a week, then start over and do this routine six times. He was ordering two more MRIs - both hips and both femurs. Radiation might be an option but he would know more after the next set of MRIs. After a few infusions, I'd probably have another PET/CT scan to see how the tumors are responding.

I have put off starting the chemo partly because I have a very busy schedule and I frankly couldn't afford to be too tired to do some of the things that were on my calendar and partly because I really strongly believe that tumors can be "turned off" by nutrition and focused mind work (daily prayers, meditations, affirmations) and that the body has an amazing ability to naturally heal itself. Chemotherapy decimates not only cancer cells but many other cells as well, including immune response cells. It's a very non-specific, shotgun approach of treatment. I know people who know people who have been "miraculously" cured. There is a shrine to St. Peregrine in one of the churches that I sing at and I spent some time in prayer there, asking his intercession (he's the patron saint of cancer patients - in Catholicism, there's pretty much a saint for anything you can think up). A friend of mine knows two people who prayed there, held the saint's relic (a small chip of bone, I think) and were cured. I held that relic, too. Another friend brought me water from Ephesus, from the purported last home of the Virgin Mary. You're supposed to drink the water in seven sips. I drank the water. Some of this may sound like hooey. I don't care. I KNOW that I can be healed of this. Miracles happen. I intend to be one of those cases where people say, "Cheryl's tumors disappeared and she's been fine for years now". I'm not afraid of death for myself but for what it would do to my children. My kids are 20, 17, 16, & 14. I need to finish raising them.  I am scheduled to have chemo in two days. I believe that healing can come through many avenues - medical as well - and I suppose I'll be in that infusion room Wednesday morning unless something amazing happens between now and then. Prayer does work and I'm aware that there are many people praying for me. I am deeply appreciative and looking forward to the day when I can say again, "It's gone. I'm cancer free."