Around the Web

I felt like I crawled across a finish line when Quinn finally fell asleep last night, even with my mom visiting last week to help lighten my load. Being a single parent is hard work (I know -- and it is hot in Phoenix, and the songs in Frozen are catchy), and I promise this is not a guilt trip, Chris. So my posting schedule is all over the place lately, but you guys are enjoying your summers at outdoor BBQs and lake homes and not reading blogs anyway, right?

For those of you still following along, here is what caught my attention on the web this week since my last one of these.

I kinda wish I'd done this.

Super early results, but exciting discoveries nonetheless.

"A study led by Princeton University researchers has revealed that the gene Metadherin - which is implicated in promoting the spread of breast cancer tumors - only stimulates tumor growth when the protein made by the gene interacts with a second protein known as SND1."

This sounds like a cartoon Quinn would want to watch: "Cyclotrons to the Rescue."

"Memorial Sloan Kettering has taken a leap into the future with the launch of a new cyclotron, a type of particle accelerator that will be used to produce radioactive molecules for PET imaging of cancers. The 44,000-pound instrument and the production facility built around it are expected to change the way our patients are diagnosed and treated by allowing doctors to examine and target tumors with increased precision."

One more breast cancer correlation to worry about...

Turns out there may be more than obesity and alcohol intake and the age you started menstruating and the age you had your first child (or whether you had children at all) and what deodorant you wear and how tight your bras are and now I'm just making things up (but you get the picture) to worry about when it comes to breast cancer risk. 

A test for non-hereditary breast cancer risk. (But will insurance cover it?)

And will the rate of prophylactic mastectomies rise as a result? I am not sure what I would have done had I known about my risk ahead of time, but that is probably a thought for another post.

A new treatment for Her-2+ breast cancers? 

"In further experiments on mice, they used another treatment called 264RAD to target this molecule and found it completely eradicated the tumours. They will now carry out trials on women to test how well this treatment works alongside Herceptin."

If you remember, Herceptin was one of the drugs I was on for more than twenty-one months. Kadcyla, the drug I'm on now, is a chemo piggy-backed to Herceptin. It seems to be working, but I am always on the lookout for new treatment options coming down the pike.

And speaking of crawling across a finish line...

Just 5 more days until my team and I walk nearly 40 miles in 2 days to highlight our masochism the fight against breast cancer. If you'd still like to contribute, just click the link above. Or buy me a beer at the finish line in San Francisco.

What These Boys Know

When Quinn was born, more than one of the labor and delivery nurses declared that he was an "old soul." You could see it in his eyes, they said. There was wisdom there. Look for yourself:

I remember so vividly the feel of his velvety baby skin, covered in soft downy fuzz that I swore was in the shape of angel wings across his back. (When your eyes return from rolling to the back of your head, I'm still here...with even more eye-roll inducing stuff.) As corny as it sounds, I believed he'd come to guide me, teach me, deliver me. Babies are capable of that, you know.

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I have a scan again next week, although I've graduated from a PET scan to a CT scan. (It causes too much radiation exposure to continue doing PETs every 3 months). Still, a scan is a scan when it comes to anxiety about what they could show, how life could screech to a halt again, how I could come fully unzipped.

I try to keep my panic attacks to a minimum during the day, try not to snap too often about things like bath-time delays and mud on the floor. I try to maintain some semblance of normalcy, even in the week before my scan. But it's been difficult this week, and I'm pretty sure I won't be nominated for an Oscar for my abilities (or lack thereof) to mask my angst anytime soon. I wish I could hide all of this from Quinn, spare him this stress. He chewed his fingernails down to the bloody quick over the weekend, so I fear I'm not doing enough.

Another family member was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer last week. We are still waiting on results of his PET scan, which will determine next steps--most likely intense, high-dose chemo. Maybe surgery. Certainly a horrible next couple of months, especially for those closest to him. Cancer is a fucker.

Last week was also a rough week in the breast cancer community. One woman in my circle died at the age of 30--thirty!--from this godforsaken disease. Another, a friend of mine, died the next day. Her teenage son posted a selfie in which he was wearing a pink shirt and a smile on his face. He said: Got my pink on for you mom. I love you and miss you already. I'm smiling cause no matter what you were going through you always smiled. That's one thing I'll never forget, and that's one hell of an example of strength, what you always had. And shared with many others. You'll always be a fighter! So of course I bawled my eyes out, more than once. 

I'm scared about next week. I always am, and I don't know if there's any way around it. No matter that my last two scans have been clean and nothing in my treatment regimen has changed. No matter that my weight is up, that I feel strong, that I believe I'm healthy. Cancer is wily and unpredictable, and I'll never be able to let my guard completely down. I miss that, but that's for another post.

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Last night, as I was putting Quinn to bed, lying in the dark with him just after books, he said, "I'm scared, Mom." "Scared of what?" I asked. I was expecting him to say the dark, or the shadows on the walls (which he calls ghosts). He thought a minute, then said, "Um, nevermind. I'm not scared anymore." He paused. "I don't want you to be scared, either, Mom." And then I did my best to muffle my sobs in the pillow, gritting my teeth together because that's what steroids and scans and cancer make you do--lose your shit when you realize your little boy probably knows more than he should. 

Then I rubbed Quinn's back--my little angel--until he fell asleep. 

What a Difference a Year Makes...

One year ago I had my ninth and last (knock on wood) Taxotere/Perjeta/Herceptin infusion, my 15th chemo chemo. Let me clarify that I still get chemo, it is just 180 degrees different than what I used to get. Meaning, my nails aren't about to fall off and I'm no longer in chemically-induced menopause and my hair is growing. I can hardly imagine the strength of the poison my body has endured. But oh holy hell what a difference a year makes.

Here's me sporting nearly an identical haircut to my oldest brother, Tim, last February -- just two and a half weeks after finishing chemo chemo and about a week after receiving the news that I could take a break from it because my scan had been clean.

I was so relieved, and so tired. Also, my arm was broken, so I was so in pain, too. But mostly, I was relieved. And happy.

Monday this week, I had chemo again, although I've lost track of what number this is. It's the one I started at the end of May, the targeted treatment Kadcyla. It's like the smart bomb of chemos, and -- so far -- it is working remarkably well for me. I am still tired, but not in the crushing, can't-take-this-anymore way I was last year at this time.

I should revise that. I am fucking beat this week, but that is in large part because chemo coincided with me catching what my friend Shelby refers to as the daycare ebola. I am so hopped up on Sudafed and cough suppressants and sinus headache meds right now, it sort of took me by surprise when I also had to take an anti-nausea pill this evening, but my incessant coughing is not helping settle my post-chemo stomach. I can only imagine the cesspool of pills sloshing around in there right now, but somehow the combination seems to be working. For now. My poor liver.

Anyway, I was going to post a photo of me one-year post chemo chemo, but no amount of good lighting was going to fix what was happening with my face today. Plus, I couldn't stop sneezing. No joke, I went to put sunglasses on to take Quinn to swimming this afternoon, and sneezed so hard, it shook the glasses off my face. Somehow, they ended up right in the line of fire. Yeah, too much. You can imagine the rest. Sorry.

So instead, here's me about a week before Christmas. I'm sure Chris will laugh at my selfie face, and I know it's not the best, but I see so much progress compared to last year at this time. And I'm not just talking about the length of my hair or the (relative) fullness of my eyebrows. I see peace and calm and health. Can't ask for much more than that, can I?