Inside
I had a scan last week.
I wasn't really ready to talk about it until now.
You drink barium, fast for a few hours, drink more barium, put on some scrubs, climb on the machine thingy, get some iodine contrast put in your veins (that makes you all warm and you think you peed your pants, but you didn't) and then you hold still while they take a bunch of pictures. It is sort of like a party, but not. Then you wait.....for the results.
As for the results:
I've got what the doctors are calling "partial remission" of the tumors that are growing in my lungs and liver and abdomen and spleen and pretty much all over. There has been no significant shrinking or decline of the tumors, but there has also been no growth. Win, sort of.
The oncologist described it like trying to get rid of all the cockroaches in a room full of cockroaches.....that the insecticide could get most of them, but the one that is hiding is going to invite his friends back for a party and then boom, you are at it again.
So, for night now the "insecticide" (chemo drugs) is doing it's thing. Poisoning the cockroaches/cancer in my body, but that one that is hiding or just tougher than the insecticide is always going to come back. -- The cancer will, at this point, most likely always be in my body.
Next week I start Round #25. Most Colon Cancer patients can do 12 rounds (6 months) of the chemo combo I am on (folfox + avastan for those that know what that means). So, 25 rounds is pretty impressive if I do say so myself.
It is also exhausting.
And hard.
And the worst thing I have ever had to do.
So, while the pictures of my insides look promising what they can't take a picture of is how I really feel on the inside.
I feel hopeless.
I feel not like the happy me I want to be.
I feel like this is never-ending.
I feel like this is not the life I want to be living.
I feel grateful to be alive and angry at the same time.
I feel like I can never really truly describe how it feels and that is the worst feeling. Not knowing how to talk about how you feel, but feeling it anyway.
And that is the hard truth.
So, they will keep taking pictures of my insides every three months.
And I will keep doing chemo every other week.
but as to what is really happening inside, I don't think a picture can ever be painted of that.
I wasn't really ready to talk about it until now.
Here is a selfie I took in my scrubs, as I waited to go in for my scan. That is a fake, nervous smile.
You drink barium, fast for a few hours, drink more barium, put on some scrubs, climb on the machine thingy, get some iodine contrast put in your veins (that makes you all warm and you think you peed your pants, but you didn't) and then you hold still while they take a bunch of pictures. It is sort of like a party, but not. Then you wait.....for the results.
As for the results:
I've got what the doctors are calling "partial remission" of the tumors that are growing in my lungs and liver and abdomen and spleen and pretty much all over. There has been no significant shrinking or decline of the tumors, but there has also been no growth. Win, sort of.
I know it sounds like a win, but it didn't feel like a big win to me. Nothing has changed. All the chemo and feeling yucky all the time and no change.
The oncologist described it like trying to get rid of all the cockroaches in a room full of cockroaches.....that the insecticide could get most of them, but the one that is hiding is going to invite his friends back for a party and then boom, you are at it again.
So, for night now the "insecticide" (chemo drugs) is doing it's thing. Poisoning the cockroaches/cancer in my body, but that one that is hiding or just tougher than the insecticide is always going to come back. -- The cancer will, at this point, most likely always be in my body.
(For my brothers who own a pest control company you will love this analogy).
Also, if you live in the midwest, St. Louis Missouri area, and want to have some really handsome, very dependable, honest, loving guys come spray for bugs here is their website. Or, if you have a college aged child who would like employment for an honest summer sales company these guys are your people. http://www.allsolutionspestcontrol.com AND, they didn't even pay me to say this.
Anyway, back to my body which, apparently, despite me doing everything "right" is still stuck with cancer.....the oncologist explained that we can continue the chemo and thinks we should obviously keep doing it since it is working -- until it is not.
Next week I start Round #25. Most Colon Cancer patients can do 12 rounds (6 months) of the chemo combo I am on (folfox + avastan for those that know what that means). So, 25 rounds is pretty impressive if I do say so myself.
It is also exhausting.
And hard.
And the worst thing I have ever had to do.
So, while the pictures of my insides look promising what they can't take a picture of is how I really feel on the inside.
I feel hopeless.
I feel not like the happy me I want to be.
I feel like this is never-ending.
I feel like this is not the life I want to be living.
I feel grateful to be alive and angry at the same time.
I feel like I can never really truly describe how it feels and that is the worst feeling. Not knowing how to talk about how you feel, but feeling it anyway.
And that is the hard truth.
So, they will keep taking pictures of my insides every three months.
And I will keep doing chemo every other week.
but as to what is really happening inside, I don't think a picture can ever be painted of that.
Oh, Amber, I honestly wish I could trade places with you. I'm old, I could let go...but you are so young, and your family needs you, and we all love you, so we don't want you to let go. You're probably tired of hearing us all say how incredibly strong, courageous, and faithful you are...but we have all learned so much from you. How we all wish you could get on with a happy, active, fun-filled and productive life! You definitely deserve it! Love, hugs...and tears and aching heart for you!
ReplyDeleteAmber, my heart just aches for you. The words, "I'm sorry you are going through this," seem too small, too insignificant. But, I really am sorry you are going through this. I can't even imagine. We will continue to pray for your and your family.
ReplyDeleteOnce again, I am left without the right words. But I am grateful for the update and your post and the raw emotions you are sharing. I want to know the truth, not just about the treatment updates, but the Amber updates. To know how YOU are doing, not just the cancer. So thank you. I love you. I am praying for you and Eric, and the girls. ❤️
ReplyDeleteAnd I am thankful
I never know what to say...... but I always read your posts and they always touch my heart and I always wonder why you have to go through this and what kind of reward Heavenly Father has for you at the end of it.....here... and in heaven. I guess just know You are always in our family prayers and you are a rock star and I hope you can feel some peace in your heart sooner than later. Hugs!
ReplyDeleteI never know what to say...... but I always read your posts and they always touch my heart and I always wonder why you have to go through this and what kind of reward Heavenly Father has for you at the end of it.....here... and in heaven. I guess just know You are always in our family prayers and you are a rock star and I hope you can feel some peace in your heart sooner than later. Hugs!
ReplyDeleteI would take the results as a win.! No growth is a wonderful thing!!! All the not feeling well isn't good but it is working. It's not taking things away but it's holding and not growing that is better than not working at all. I wish you some happy thoughts and keep being strong.
ReplyDeleteI’m so, so sorry Amber.
ReplyDeleteSo proud of you Amber, and so honored to get to hear your story and your experience. Prayers sent from us your way every day! Your story is inspiring and I am so grateful to get to hear it. Thank you for sharing. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to help.
ReplyDelete