Wow - What a Difference!

On Thursday, I started my new chemo regimen. We’ve dropped Irinotecan and are continuing only with Avastin and Xeloda. What does that mean? Well – I no longer have to worry about nausea, diarrhea or hair loss (good bye my dear Penguin Cold Caps, which saved EVERY hair on my head!). Avastin has almost no side effects. It was amazing. So my new regimen is receiving an Avastin infusion every 3 weeks and taking Xeloda (in pill form) for 7 days on, then 7 days off. There are side effects associated with Xeloda. For me the most bothersome is extremely dry hands and feet. At the end of my last 7 day cycle with Xeloda, I had trouble walking because of the combination of dry feet and neuropathy. But I can handle it. So many people have it so much worse.

Dr. Smith also spent some time with me outlining the meaning of my CT scan. He told me that the spots that he saw were smaller than they appeared on previous scans, but even more importantly, they were a lot less dense. He said that this means that there is probably dying or dead cancer inside of them. He then said the best thing of all “Eve, you will most likely never get rid of those spots completely. We will probably still see those spots 40 years from now in your scans.” I stopped him immediately and asked him to repeat what he had just said. 40 years from now? Did he really utter those words? I’ve been hoping for 4 years. When I called him on it, he just smiled.

Yesterday, the girls and I went with some dear friends to a place that was filled with trampolines. I decided not just to watch them, but to get in there and jump with them. The feeling of elation and gratefulness overwhelmed me as I flew through the air. As the laughter of my children surrounded me, I realized that I am beating the odds. I am going to live.

A BIG PHEW!!!

Tonight I received an e-mail from my oncologist with the results from Friday's CT scan. To quote Dr. Smith:

“Your scan looked great. I see only 2 spots, which are much smaller than before. It is likely that there is no longer any cancer in them, but it is hard to tell for sure.”

The plan is to move forward with Avastin and Xeloda chemo for the next 3 months, but drop the most intense chemo drug, Irinotecan. We will then check once again and hopefully those 2 spots will have been absorbed. With the removal of Irinotecan from my chemo regimen, I no longer have to worry about hair loss. Those Penguin Cold Caps pulled me through with my hair intact!

A huge thank you to all of you for your prayers and positive thoughts. This is a good day. A very very good day.

Penguin Cold Caps!

As those of you who follow this blog know, during my current chemotherapy, I am not only fighting to save my life, but fighting to save my hair. Why do I care so much about the hair? It gives me and my family a sense of normalcy as we go through this difficult journey together. When my children see me, they see the mom that they’ve always known and they’re not as scared. Professionally, I have the choice to tell people that I wish to tell about my cancer – it is not being advertised for everyone to see. And finally, and probably most importantly, when I look in the mirror, I don’t see someone who looks sick, I see a strong, healthy person and that gives me the strength to fight.

I am pleased to announce that it has worked! I actually think that I have more hair than when I started. Our local ABC affiliate in the San Francisco Bay Area was so interested in this story that they came to my office and to my chemo appointment to film the process. They ran the story last Monday night and here is the link to their coverage: http://abclocal.go.com/kgo/story?section=news%2Fhealth&id=7828760.

A big thank you to ABC in helping to get the word out about this terrific option for cancer patients!

Kenra

To add to the Penguin Cold Caps week, on Tuesday I flew to Indianapolis (I was actually in DC for business and flew to Indianapolis from DC just for the night and flew back to DC to continue my lobbying the next morning) to help launch a very exciting new charitable effort. Kenra (a high end hair products company that is in 20,000 salons nationwide) has decided to put their charitable giving efforts to help people save their hair during chemo. On Tuesday night, they announced that by 2013 it is their goal to provide a freezer for Penguin Cold Caps to every location in the US that dispenses chemotherapy. That is more than 2300 hospitals! At $7-10K per freezer, that is not a small undertaking. They will be raising the money and giving it to the Rapunzel Project, which is a charity that was created by a former Penguin Cold Cap user. The Rapunzel Project raises and donates funds to buy freezers for the cold caps. Kenra gave them $50K on Tuesday and plan to give them more over the next several years to fulfill their dream of enabling patients throughout the US to save their hair during a very traumatic time in their lives.

I felt very honored that Kenra flew me out to speak at the launch of this effort. They also flew out the President and Founder of the company that makes Penguin Cold Caps as well as the founders of the Rapunzel Project. The leadership of the company was inspirational and everyone that worked there was so loving and supportive. They told me that I am now part of the Kenra family (and I’ll never have to buy hair product again!). What a family to join. I literally fell in love with everyone there. Please buy Kenra products from your local salon – they not only make amazing products, but this company has a huge heart as well.

After returning to DC on Wednesday morning, I spent the next couple of days walking the halls of Congress on behalf of the Port. It was a very intense week, but a good one. As I was “complaining” to Pat before I left about how crazy my life was, Pat just looked at me and said “Eve, you’re living your life. That is the best thing you can do.” He was right. I am living my life. I’m showing cancer who’s boss.

On Friday, I went back to Stanford for a CT scan. This is my first CT scan since my surgery last July. I’m on pins and needles waiting for the results. I’m trying not to let fear take ahold of me, but it’s hard not to. I keep wondering if my life will be shaken once again. This week I should get the results back (maybe as early as tomorrow). Please keep me in your prayers.

Finally, I will be heading into another round of chemo on Thursday. Please send me all of your wonderful energy as I head back into battle. During this holiday time, I reflect on the story of Chanukah where the Maccabees crushed the Greek Army – which was truly a miracle. I pray that I will also experience a miracle in crushing the cancer in the Maccabee spirit of long long ago.

Quick Update and Tune in to Oprah on Wed!

I have so much to update you all on. Here is the quick and dirty:

1) My hernia/pain in my stomach - I'm glad to report that the pain has subsided. I was dreading spending the next year in pain, but I was willing to do it if it meant that I would be blasting myself with chemo and ridding myself of cancer. Fortunately, I don't have to dread it any longer. Hallelujah.

2) I've gone through a couple more rounds of chemo - they weren't fun, but I didn't vomit. Trust me - that's huge. I did experience other side effects that weren't pleasant, but that's chemo. It's not supposed to be a walk in the park. Fortunately, I don't have to go back until November 30 (my oncologist is giving me Thanksgiving week off). I'm looking forward to feeling better every day until then.

3) Penguin Caps - For those of you who saw Good Morning America, you should have seen my picture in my penguin cap scroll across the bottom of the screen a couple of times during the 9+ minute segment. It was a heck of a story and now TV stations throughout Canada and the US are doing additional stories on the cold caps. Life has gotten pretty wild for the company and we are talking about rapid expansion opportunities in the US. The owner and founder will be coming out to the States in December and I'm gearing up for his visit.

4) John of God - I just found out that John of God is going to be on Oprah on Wednesday, November 17. If you're interested in learning more about him (as you may recall, I traveled to Brazil last summer to see if he could help heal me), please tune in.

5) Another birthday - I am so excited that on Saturday, I will be celebrating another birthday. Each birthday is so precious now. While others may dread birthdays, I am so looking forward to old age. Birthdays can't come fast enough for me.

Finally, I have one last story. About a week ago I was pretty upset with Ariel. As I was about to raise my voice, she looked at me and said "Mommy - you need to have peace. It is important that you have peace and laughter in your life. That's how you will be healthy. If you have madness and sadness it won't help you get better. You need peace and laughter." She stopped me in my tracks. She was right. It's amazing the wisdom that can come out of such a young child.

Watch Good Morning America - Thursday (Oct. 28) 8:00-8:30 am!

We have learned that the Penguin Cold Caps will be on ABC's Good Morning America at some point between 8:00 and 8:30 am on Thursday (it's either today or tomorrow based on when you're reading this blog). Make sure to watch! I plan to see the action before I head to San Francisco for chemo fun (wish I was going to the Giants game instead).

In honor of the occasion, my ever-talented friend, Shana, wrote a limerick that I'd like to share:

There is a fine husband named Pat
Who helps with his wife's Penguin hat.

He's as skilled as they come.
One, two, three and he's done.
And he does it while taking a nap.

One last thing - please don't forget to send me that prayer tomorrow to get me through chemo!

Good Morning America – Tune in this Thursday Morning!

I have exciting news. Penguin Cold Cap Therapy is going to be featured on Good Morning America on Thursday morning. I have been very involved in helping the founder of the company, Frank Fronda, work with ABC on the story. They are planning to air a 4 minute segment on the cold caps. We are very excited that this will create the buzz that’s needed to ensure that folks who are facing chemotherapy-induced hair loss throughout the US will now know of the opportunity to save their hair. I have been on chemo for 6 weeks and I have not seen any hair loss – if anything, my hair seems to be getting even bigger since I’m not straightening it anymore!

In other news – I may now have a hernia. I don’t know how many of you have ever had a hernia – but it really really hurts. Every time I laugh, cough, sneeze or exert myself, a searing pain rips through my stomach right next to my stoma. When I spoke with my colorectal surgeon’s office today, they said that this is not uncommon for people sporting an ileostomy. Unfortunately, I can’t have surgery until I have completed a year of chemo – so this may make this year even longer and more painful. Oh well. It’s almost amusing to me that I am facing yet another hurdle. I would laugh – if it wouldn’t cause extreme pain!

I should know more soon about whether I have a hernia or if there is something else going on. But – in the meantime – I’m going to focus on taking my picture tonight and getting it to the producer at ABC so she can include me in Thursday’s clip!

I almost forgot to mention that on Thursday, please send your prayers and positive thoughts my way once again – since it’s chemo day. I need all of your great energy to get me through that very long day.

Hurray for Anti-Nausea Meds!

Hallelujah for anti-nausea meds! We finally got the formula right. I made it through Thursday without leaning over a toilet. What’s amazing is my new perception of a good day.

We continued the march of the penguin caps as well, with multiple people helping throughout the day. It is quite the labor intensive process to ensure that the caps drop down to -31 degrees Celsius and get changed within a 2 minute span. The ritual includes changing the cap every 30 minutes for about 7 hours. Let’s just say that it isn’t the best day between the chemo and the caps, but I’m thrilled to say that so far I haven’t lost any hair.

In honor of the penguin caps I'm going to throw in a quick ode from my talented friend Shana:

I may be stuck in this chemo chair,
But I've got Penguin Caps for my hair.
They're cold as ice and freeze my locks,
A follicular form of hair Botox.
So when I'm through with this chemo gig,
I won't be needin' no stinkin' wig.

I bounced back from this chemo treatment much more quickly than my previous two experiences. I feel like we are finally getting the side effects under control. I still have a low level of nausea, but now it just reminds me of being a little seasick at all times. Not great, but livable.

Yesterday, I felt well enough to go to watch the girls play soccer. They were so thrilled that I was there and able to participate. I caught them watching me constantly to make sure that I was paying attention. I know that they worry about me. How I wish that I could take away that worry and replace it only with worries about missing a goal on the soccer field. I work hard to appear as normal as possible to the girls.

But that is my job. I’m the mom and I have to be strong for them. They will survive. I will survive. It won’t be easy, but together, we are determined to see this through.

Writing As Therapy

The last three weeks have been a series of highs and lows. After getting through that first rough weekend, I steadily became stronger and stronger. Two weekends ago, I was blessed with a wonderful gift from a phenomenal friend – an opportunity to go to an amazing place called Esalen in beautiful Big Sur (I felt that this experience deserved lots of adjectives). Apparently, Esalen was the birthplace of the self-actualization movement. I took an inspirational course with several girlfriends entitled “Writing from the Heart.” I never realized how therapeutic writing could be. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been primarily writing for my work and really have not written just for the sake of writing. Even this blog has been created primarily to keep everyone apprised of my health so that you all don’t worry about me – or at least know what’s going on so you can worry appropriately about me!

Interestingly, I recently heard about a study that was conducted surrounding writing. Apparently, two separate groups with the same medical diagnosis were given two separate writing assignments. The first group was to write about what inspired them, where they hoped to be in five years, things that brought them joy etc. The second group was to write about what made them angry, their fears… (you get the picture). What I found fascinating were the results. After three months, the second group was significantly healthier than the first because they were able to release their frustrations by writing them down. So – for the rest of this blog I’m going to disregard my goal of being positive and just rant…

So I had a really rotten chemo experience on September 30th. For the first time, I had significant nausea which led to a really awful afternoon and evening. The next day was also not great. Fortunately, the weekend wasn’t as rough and I slowly returned to my normal, energetic self. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that this Thursday (my next chemo day) won’t be as terrible since we are going to try a different regimen for side effects.

Now, as I write this, I feel great. That’s what’s so darn strange about this whole thing. I look normal, I feel normal, but I know that I’m fighting a very strong disease internally. It’s hard to remain focused on all of the healing things that I’m supposed to be doing (I still have not mastered incorporating meditation into my life) when I feel like my old self. That’s my greatest challenge right now – remaining focused on my most important goal – ridding my body of cancer, when I just want to put it out of my mind and go back to my old life.

But Thursday will soon be here and my body will be poisoned yet again to remind me of what’s going on inside. In the meantime, I’m going to hit a yoga class, go walking with friends, take my supplements, meet with my Buddhist healer and acupuncturist and try once again to do that darn meditation thing….although I have no idea when I’ll find the time…

Chemo (Take 3) Begins

When I started writing this blog entry on Friday, I had written that it was my best chemo experience yet. Even with the ridiculous (and really cold!) penguin caps, I still was happy (relatively speaking) with how Thursday played out and how I was feeling on Friday. Then came a really really tough weekend. But after some minor adjustments, I’m feeling ok once again. (So – if you’re in a hurry – that’s the quick version of what I’m about to write out – so you can go about your day and know you haven’t missed anything.)

On Thursday, Pat and I headed across the Bay Bridge for my first chemo appointment with Dr. Smith. Elizabeth (the woman who had handed me her penguin caps the day before), met us at my appointment so that she could show Pat and our friend Linda (who also came to the appointment) how to properly put on the caps and to walk through the exact timing with us. Not only did Elizabeth work with us to make sure that we had the system down – she actually stayed for my entire 3 hour chemo appointment to help us. Once again, I was blessed with an incredible person who came forward to help me along my journey. It never ceases to amaze me the amount of kindness that is out there.

Speaking of kind human beings – it was recently brought to my attention that I rarely mention my husband in this blog. That was not on purpose. Pat, my husband, has been the most unbelievable partner throughout this incredibly challenging (hellacious) experience. He has been there for 99% of my doctor appointments, my chemo treatments, my anxious calls throughout the day, my late night worries and has been a rock not only for me, but for our children, our parents and our friends. I cannot overemphasize how incredible he has been. I don’t know what I would have done without him.

Now – back to Thursday… Dr. Smith actually put in the IV himself to deliver the chemo and sat with me until I was comfortable. He then checked in on me regularly to see how I was doing. While he gave me many a funny look about the penguin caps – he couldn’t dismiss their effectiveness when I had my new friend Elizabeth with me sporting a full head of hair 2 days after her breast cancer chemo.

After the fun dosage of Irinotecan and Avastin and with a healthy dose of anti-nausea meds, I headed home to rest (and continue changing penguin caps for the next 4 hours). I actually felt very well and that feeling of wellness and energy continued throughout the next day.

Unfortunately, that feeling did not last. I began taking Xeloda on Friday night and immediately began to have trouble. I spent most of the weekend in bed. I spoke with Dr. Smith on Sunday and he cut back my dosage. On Monday afternoon, I was beginning to feel much better and as I write this, I’m feeling almost 100%.

I have also returned to work. It’s good to be back. I actually have times throughout the day that I forget that I’m battling cancer. It’s nice to have those little breaks. This is a tough time, both physically and mentally. I am so grateful for my family, friends and people who I don’t know who I hear have me on their prayer lists.

My dear friend asked me the other day if I had the chance if I would switch my life (both the good and the bad) for someone else’s life (not knowing who that someone else may be), would I do so? While my first instinct was to say “yes” because this has been such a scary and difficult time, I realized that in fact, my answer is “no.” I am blessed in so many many ways.

Round 3 - Here I Come!

So tomorrow’s the big day. The start of round 3. I really was hoping that I’d never be saying those words. But life continues to throw me a curveball, and I’ll continue to do everything I can to hit it out of the ballpark.

When I asked Dr. Smith what I should be doing to prepare for tomorrow’s chemo, he told me to get exercise and hydrate myself. So tonight I went to the gym and I’m drinking large amounts of water and tea. Tomorrow morning I will plan to work out some more before heading to Smith Integrative Oncology to get the fabulous cocktail that will kill my cancer.

The last 24 hours have been filled with another cancer related effort – trying to figure out how to save my hair. Yesterday, when I was speaking with Dr. Smith’s nutritionist, I jokingly asked her if there was anything that I could eat that would prevent hair loss. She then told me that she had heard of people using the Penguin Cold Cap system. The theory is that the cold cap freezes the hair follicles which prevents the chemo from being absorbed. I looked into it last night, and since the company was located in England, I left a message on their machine asking if there was any possibility of obtaining the Penguin caps by Thursday.

I received a call at 7 am from the President of the company saying that he wanted to help me. Although I wasn’t giving them enough time to ship me the caps, he told me that he’d try to find someone locally who would lend them to me. Amazingly enough, within an hour, he was calling me back to let me know that there was a woman in San Francisco who just finished her chemo yesterday and was more than happy to pass them off to me. So – I went to her home, she gave me all of her supplies and demonstrated how to attach the caps to my head (there will be 14 of them and I’ll be changing them every 30 minutes). She then offered to meet me at my chemo appointment tomorrow to make sure that I have the system down and to teach Pat the best way to put on the cap. The people that I have met on this journey continue to amaze me with their incredible generosity.

But – the most phenomenal thing was that she was a breast cancer patient and had a full head of hair! I spoke with several other breast cancer penguin cap users today that had the same story. They all had most, if not all, of their hair after they finished chemo.

So tomorrow – with the first of many caps on my head – I’ll be heading to chemo. I may look funny – but heck – I have hope that I’ll have a full head of hair when I’m done with this.

At 11:30 am I’ll be starting chemo. Please send me your prayers and positive thoughts. My body is strong and I’m feeling energized. This time I’m going to win. I just know it.

It's Been Awhile (But I Have a Good Excuse)

I know, I know, I know. It has been a very long time since I’ve written a blog. Several people have contacted me fearing what my lack of communication means. In a nutshell – it means that I’ve been really really busy. So this is what I’ve been up to:

Travel to Europe

So – our family had scheduled a trip to go to Germany for a wedding at the end of August. My Spanish brother (our former exchange student) was marrying a lovely German girl at a castle in the Black Forest. We had decided to go to France before Germany since Ari informed us that she has wanted to go to Paris her WHOLE LIFE (and heck - she had already hit the old age of 6). However, as you know, our world turned upside down this summer and the possibility of us actually making the trip went down dramatically. My surgery ended up lasting 6.5 hours, I woke up with a hell of an incision as well as an ileostomy and the trip was only 3 weeks away. A sane person would have canceled the trip.

But instead, we climbed the Eiffel Tower, ate croissants and spaetzle and danced at the wedding until 3 am (the wedding actually lasted until 8 am – ya gotta love Spaniards). Going to Europe was one of the best decisions that I have made. It was not the easiest trip, but it was a wonderful trip.

Cancer Treatment – the Discovery Phase

We arrived home the evening of August 31st. The girls started school on September 1st and I hopped a plane to Chicago on that same day to begin my efforts to get second opinions. In Chicago, I was met by a girlfriend who I hadn’t seen since we lived in Spain 20 years ago, who housed me and took a couple of days off to take me to appointments. (It is truly remarkable how generous everyone has been – with their time, their support and their love.) I met with the Block Center on the 2nd and Northwestern on the 3rd and then headed back to the Bay Area. After spending the weekend trying to get caught up on the home front, I went to visit UCSF on Tuesday, flew down to UCSD and spoke with Johns Hopkins on Wednesday and finally circled back to meet with Dr. Fisher on Thursday to discuss next steps. I now feel like an expert on the options for a woman diagnosed with Stage 4 colon cancer. After setting my course of treatment with him, I set up my first chemo appointment for September 16th.

Changing Direction

So – after meeting with the many oncologists and talking to Dr. Fisher, I was moving forward. However, prior to the meeting with Dr. Fisher, I scheduled one last second (ok - I guess it technically would be my seventh) opinion with Dr. Garrett Smith, an oncologist who is not associated with a major cancer center, but is doing innovative cancer treatment in San Francisco. Basically, this means that he focuses not only on the western medicine, but also incorporates eastern medicine. His office has a nutritionist, acupuncturist, fitness expert, Chinese medicine specialist and massage therapist. (As you are all aware – this has been my approach to my cancer treatment - but I have pieced together my own team.) He is delivering chemo in a chronomodulated fashion and is sending his patients worldwide to get the best individualized cancer treatment. His office is cheery and inviting and he delivers the chemo himself. He was filled with hope for my future and is an amazingly loving and caring person. Furthermore, when I had mentioned his name to Dr. Fisher the day before, he lauded Dr. Smith and said that he refers patients to him frequently and helps him with difficult cases.

So, after much deliberation this weekend, I have decided to augment my team. I will be moving my chemo treatment from Stanford to Smith Integrative Oncology in San Francisco (which will also make it much easier for those of you who want to come to support me during chemo to do so). This was a very hard decision because I love George Fisher and I think very highly of Stanford. However, just the idea of going down to the Stanford Infusion Center once a week to get chemo distresses me. Although the facility is beautiful, it is filled with cancer patients that look incredibly sick. It is a very depressing place. I have determined that at this point, I need to be in a place that inspires me and lifts my spirits. Dr. Smith’s personality and approach as well as his facility is that place.

Tomorrow I will call Dr. Fisher to tell him of my decision. I am nervous and a little sad and wondering if I am completely crazy, since he truly is the king of colorectal oncology and Stanford is a top notch institution. But, I have to remember that I’m not leaving him and I will be keeping him updated on my care as I travel down this new path

Which brings me to my most recent diagnosis. Unfortunately, I have now been told by several oncologists that we are no longer talking about a cure for me – it’s now about tumor suppression and trying to stay alive as long as possible, with the hope that they find a cure while I’m still alive. That was a huge blow to me. However, people can live for years – and I plan to do so.

Chemo – What to Expect

On Thursday, September 16th, I will begin my chemo regimen. I will be taking Irinotecan, Avastin and Xeloda. I will be hooked up to a drip system every two weeks for the Irinotecan and Avastin and will take Xeloda in pill form. The potential side effects are extreme diarrhea, suppressed immune system, hair thinning, fatigue, dry hands and feet and nausea.

I will get this chemo treatment for about 2-3 months, they will take another CT scan and then, if things are going well, I’ll do another 2-3 months. After that, we’ll revert to maintenance chemotherapy (most likely getting rid of Irinotecan and lowering the dosage of the other chemo drugs) and I will remain on chemo for an indefinite period of time. It may be years before I can go off of chemo (but heck – if I get “years” I’ll take it!)

The Ileostomy

As you are aware, I am very anxious to reverse the ileostomy and go back to a bagless existence. Unfortunately, it’s just not meant to be for the time being. After discussions with both Johns Hopkins and Dr. Smith, I am convinced that I should leave it in place for about a year. First, it will help me with the diarrhea side effect of the irinotecan. Dr. Mulcahy of Northwestern told me that she has patients who ask if they can get the bag put on because the diarrhea is so extreme. (I’m trying to find the silver lining in this.)

In addition, the chemo that I’ll be taking cannot be given anytime near a surgery. It could easily result in a fatality, since it literally could open up any wound that is not completely healed and cause massive bleeding. Since our goal is to kill the microscopic levels of cancer, it does not make sense to stop my chemo until we’ve completely saturated my body. In addition, if we wait a year, it will give the surgeon a chance to see inside my body once again when they reverse the ileostomy rather than relying on a CT scan. So – they have effectively convinced me that leaving it on for a year is the safest course of action. I don’t like it – but life is much more important to me than the inconvenience of having a stoma.

The Wrap Up

I know that this is a lot of information. It has been quite a crazy ride for me – trying to figure out the best way for me to prolong my life. I could have written so much more – but I wanted to give you a thumbnail sketch of what’s going on here.

On Friday I returned to work after being gone for 7 weeks. It’s good to be back and I think that my medical condition will help me keep work in perspective. I am not sure how difficult it will be for me to work during this next chemo round. I am just taking one day at a time.

As a family, we have become closer than ever. Pat and I have started having real conversations with the girls about what’s going on. We didn’t realize that without knowledge, the girls were making up their own stories about what was going to happen. It is a tough time for all of us – but we are surviving and thriving.

We don’t know what the future has in store for me. But I wake up every morning with gratitude for the day. I work hard to find joy in the little moments. I am so grateful that I have a phenomenal medical team as well as an unmatched support system.

Thank you so much for everything that you have done to support me and my family. I know that I am seriously behind on my thank you notes and return e-mails – but as you can see – life has been fairly full lately. Once chemo begins on Thursday, I expect that life will calm down.

I hope that you are all having a terrific beginning of fall. This last week we celebrated the Jewish New Year. Although this will be a difficult year, I am filled with hope and strongly believe that I will be celebrating this wonderful holiday many many more times.

L’shana tova.

Surgery is Over - Now Let the Healing Commence

I’m home. Hallelujah. After sleeping on plastic sheeted hospital beds, being woken up every couple of hours, it’s good to be in my own bed.

As you saw from Stacia’s postings, the good news was that I was able to have surgery on July 28th. They took a look around and determined that the cancer had not spread extensively throughout my body and that it made sense to go at it surgically. What was originally supposed to be a 2 hour surgery, ended up lasting more than 6 hours. My left thigh is still numb but they say that the feeling will come back.

The surgeons were very pleased with the surgery. They said that they believed that they got good margins on the cancer. They did have to leave one tiny piece of cancer on my bladder. They did not want to operate on my bladder since it is so thin – the risk was too great that they would injure it. Therefore, the plan is to radiate that piece of cancer.

The bag. Yes – I came home with a temporary bag. As you can imagine, I was devastated, until I learned from my surgeon’s physician assistant that it was a miracle that I didn’t have a permanent bag. Apparently, any other surgeon would have put a permanent bag on me due to the complexity of my surgery. However, Dr. Shelton, knowing how much it meant to me to not have a bag, spent a very long time in surgery working on my colon to avoid a permanent bag. Once I heard how fortunate I was from the PA, my attitude shifted dramatically and I am now incredibly grateful for the skilled work of Dr. Shelton. The plan is to reverse this situation in 2-3 months (of course, I’m pushing to make it closer to 2 months).

So what happens next? I will be removing my staples this Friday down at Stanford and then have an appointment with Dr. Fisher next Tuesday to hear his recommendation for further treatment. While I was in the hospital, he came by and said that he was considering just doing radiation without chemotherapy. Although it sounds wonderful not to go through chemo again, I’ve decided that if chemo has the best shot at getting rid of the cancer permanently – then blast the hell out of me with chemo. I’d rather have a rough year, than go through this again.

I have also scheduled a second opinion with the Block Center in Chicago (an integrative cancer treatment facility), Dr. Tony Reid at UCSD, Dr. Heinz Lenz at USC and an oncologist at Johns Hopkins. I am also considering going to UCSF for their review. I am going to make Dr. Fisher crazy with all these opinions – but I’ve decided that I want to get as many great minds looking at my case as possible. I think he’ll be ok – although the last time I met with him he told me that I knew too much.

While I was in surgery, we also arranged for samples of my tumor be sent for state of the art molecular and chemotherapy testing. We should be getting back those results next week. I am hopeful that this information will be helpful in determining the best course of treatment for me going forward.

This has been a very rough couple of weeks. I struggle both physically and mentally every day. But, I recognize that for a person to heal physically, that it is critical to stay upbeat and hopeful. So – every time that I begin to go to a dark place, I say to myself “NO! Stop That!” I feel a little crazy – but it seems to work to realign my head.

So now it is time to rest. Thank you all for your outpouring of love. Your strength is bolstering my resolve to heal and rid myself of this terrible disease forever.

She's home!

Eve was released from the hospital this evening! She's home. First order of business--a shower and washing her hair. You'll all be glad to know she's clean and resting. And will hopefully be up to a blog post of her own in the near future.

She's up and around

I was able to spend some time with Eve today. While she's still pretty wiped out, she was able to make one lap around the nurses station, despite some lingering numbness in her leg.

I was there with her mom and friend from Spain, Alejandro. We talked and joked with her as she faded in and out of the conversation. She's not laughing yet, but we did see evidence of a few smirks. I know she's reading your posts to this blog. So if you have some time today, please leave her a note of encouragement--and let's see if we can get that smirch to a smile!

A private room for Eve

Eve's been pretty sleepy today. She'd lost a good amount of blood during the surgery yesterday, so early this morning she had a blood transfusion. After two units of blood, Eve's doing better and hopes to be up walking around tomorrow.

She was moved today to a private room (339), still on Floor E3. She's expected to be released early next week. If you would like to participate in the Meal Train for her, please contact Wendy Spader at wspander@yahoo.com. Thank you, Wendy, for again organizing this huge blessing for the family.

Eve's out of surgery

After a long surgery this afternoon, Eve is just leaving recovery and settling into her room--which is on Floor E3, Room 332B at Stanford Hospital.

During the course of the afternoon, the surgeons removed two tumors from Eve's abdomen. One was at the initial surgery site in her colon and had grown outside to her vagina. The other was on the outside of her colon near her where it connects to the small intestine.

She has been given an ostomy bag, which they anticipate being able to reverse in three months or so.

Eve is still pretty out of it at this point. I'm sure she'll appreciate your on-going thoughts and prayers--and comments here to cheer her up. I'll provide you with more information as it becomes available.

Time of Surgery - Get Those Prayers Ready!

My time of surgery has been confirmed - it will be at 12:15 pm (PST). It should last between 2-3 hours. Please feel free to concentrate those wonderful prayers then!

Thanks again for all of your lovely healing thoughts. If prayer really does make a difference in a person's outcome (which is what the studies say) - then I'm going to be in phenomenal shape post surgery thanks to all of you and your friends.

Back from Brazil & Prayers for Wednesday

I’m back from Brazil. I’ve gone to the Mikvah. And today I had my stomach marked by a stoma nurse. Where to begin….

As for my whirlwind trip to Brazil, it was indescribable. I’m serious. I am really unable to describe the trip. My head is still spinning. It was a time of meditation, prayer and healing. I’ve never been that quiet for that long in my life. I actually sat in meditation for 3 hours at a time (I’m not saying that my mind was quiet – but at least my eyes and mouth were shut) and I prayed more than I have in my life. I experienced crystal beds and spent time underneath an exquisite waterfall. I have too many stories to write.

Unfortunately, I picked a crazy time to go. Just the week before we got there, Brazilian TV ran a huge segment on John of God. So – Brazilians decided to flock to the Casa when I was there. On our first day there were more people than my guide, Steve, had ever seen on one day. I would guess that there were far more than 1000 people there.

My tour guide, Steve Rozengauz, was phenomenal. He was a Russian New York Jew. Steve’s group was a kind of wacky combination of folks: we had a Brazilian celebrity actress, Fortuna (Tuna) Dwek; a Chicago-born now Sao Paolo TV series writer (he is the head writer for an NYPD type show that’s based on the Sao Paolo police dept.); a Russian born New Yorker and a Missouri-born Southern Californian. It was pretty funny walking around with Tuna because workers in the shops would stop and ask to have their picture taken with her or would ask for her autograph. She was quite flamboyant and a real love. I could tell you all sorts of stories about the makeup of our group and our mother-hen leader Steve, but honestly, it’s just too difficult to capture the flavor of our group or for anything that took place there in mere words.

There were many many people that I met who had stories of their healing and the healing of others. However, I was informed that I should not expect that Abadiania is the McHealing of Brazil. Healing takes time and although John of God has healed people on the spot, that is very very rare.

So – the big question that I keep getting asked was “did it work?” I really don’t know how to answer that. Do I think that on Wednesday they’ll open me up and with stunned expressions announce that there is no cancer in my body? While I would love to say that I believe that will happen, I am not holding my breath. However, this experience did help me to become more spiritual, quiet and focused on things that will help me to heal and make my body inhospitable for future recurrences of cancer. I have a whole new appreciation for things that I can’t see or touch. Abadiania is a wonderful, energy filled, spiritual place.

One final note on my trip, as I was getting on to my plane yesterday to fly from Atlanta to SFO, I was thinking to myself how much I wanted to have peace in my life and was debating how I was going to fully incorporate this into my every day actions. As I was about to get my ticket scanned so that I could enter the plane, I looked down at the name of the person who was directly in front of me and the name on the scanner read “Shalom” which means “peace.” What a nice little wave from above…

I arrived home yesterday and began my preparation for going to the Mikvah with Miriam Ferris, a local Rabbi’s wife. I am too tired to write about the Mikvah (please feel free to google it), which I went to last night at 9 pm. It was an amazingly powerful experience.

Today was not a good day. I spent 5 hours at Stanford with Pat. As I mentioned earlier, I had the joy of having my stomach marked in case they need to give me an ostomy on Wednesday. They needed to know where to put it. The surgeon has promised that he’ll do everything that he can to avoid doing this, but he won’t know until he gets in how strong my colon will be and whether it will be able to be reattached. He thinks that it will be unlikely that if I do have an ostomy that it will be for more than a few months. I wanted to be strong, but having my stomach marked was almost too much for me to bear.

We also spent quite a bit of time trying to ensure that the surgeons were aware that we are asking for some state-of-the-art tests that they generally don’t do at Stanford. It’s not easy to do things outside of their normal course of business. But I want to live and so I am demanding that they send my tumor away to a couple of different labs for additional testing. Unfortunately, it’s not inexpensive nor easy to do this – but this is my life. And I must do everything I can to prolong it.

I am really too exhausted to write anything else. I am working so hard to keep my spirits up and look for the positives in all of this – but it’s really difficult.

People keep asking what they can do. What I really need from all of you, and from everyone you know, are your prayers on Wednesday. What I did learn in Brazil was the tremendous power of faith and collective energy. It’s very scary that I will be heading into surgery not knowing how I’ll wake up. But now it’s time for me to stop trying to control the situation and just let go. I’m asking for your strength.

While I was down in Brazil, one of my new friends reminded me of the “Footsteps in the Sand” poem by Mary Stevenson. I find it inspiring as I head into this difficult surgery and for the few of you who do not know what I’m talking about, here it is:

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.
Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.
In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,
other times there were one set of footprints.

This bothered me because I noticed
that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from
anguish, sorrow or defeat,
I could see only one set of footprints.

So I said to the Lord,
“You promised me Lord,
that if I followed you,
you would walk with me always.
But I have noticed that during
the most trying periods of my life
there have only been one
set of footprints in the sand.
Why, when I needed you most,
you have not been there for me?"

The Lord replied,
"The times when you have
seen only one set of footprints,
is when I carried you."

My dear friend Stacia will plan to use this blog later this week to inform all of you regarding what happens on Wednesday. Thank you again for all of your love and support.

The Journey Continues

Before I talk about my medical diagnosis and my spiritual journey, I wanted to share with all of you something that happened yesterday. I arrived home to discover a letter from a former colleague of mine. In it was a lovely necklace with a medallion of Saint Peregrine (the patron saint for cancer patients). Along with the necklace was a note indicating that my colleague was in a neighborhood grocery store and had asked the man who handled the fruits and vegetables to put me on his prayer list. In response to her request, he took this medal off of his neck and gave it to her to give to me. Apparently, a friend had given it to him before his colon cancer surgery 3 years ago and now he is totally clear of cancer. He told my friend that he is healed so he was giving it to me so that I will be healed as well. This completely took me by surprise and I am so very grateful for his kindness. But, this is not the only example of the kindness of strangers (and many many many friends). There is something about this diagnosis that has brought out the most beautiful and loving behaviors in others. I feel blessed that I have been witness to the best in human nature.

Now – I think it’s probably time that I caught all of you up regarding my latest diagnosis. Unfortunately, I now have Stage 4 colon cancer. It has not only moved into my female area (for the delicate among you), but has also reappeared in my colon at the location of my original colon cancer surgery. They have also determined that my form of colon cancer is the more aggressive type of colon cancer. They are not sure if the two cancers are physically connected or if they are in two separate locations. Unfortunately, they will not know very much more than what I have outlined until they go in and look around.

So – on July 28th (please put this date on your calendar to send strong prayers my way), I will be heading to Stanford for major surgery. First, they will look laparoscopically to determine if there is any more cancer inside of me in addition to what they could see on the PET and CT scans. If there is more cancer, then they will not proceed with the surgery, but rather will start with chemo to try to blast it out of me and follow the chemo with surgery. If, however, I only have the 2 spots mentioned above, then 3 separate surgeons (gynecological, colorectal and urological) will then proceed with major surgery. Unfortunately, I will not be looking very good following the surgery. I am not going to go into the possible things that could happen, but let’s just say that I really really wish that I wasn’t doing this surgery.

Once the surgery is complete, I will most likely begin an extremely tough chemo regimen in addition to radiation. They are looking at giving me Irinotecan and potentially Avastin. Not only will this suppress my immune system, but it may also result in me losing all of my hair. I know it seems so petty to worry about my hair when my life is at stake, but my hair is what made me look normal to my kids over the past couple of years. I so worry that if I become bald that it will scare them more than they already are.

I am devastated. I am scared. I want my life back. This is not like having concerns with money or a job or your children. Those things can be changed. You can move, you can quit your job, you can give time outs to your children or at the extreme, you can just simply run away. But, I can’t run. I can’t escape. It goes with me everywhere. I keep asking “why me?” But there is no good answer. I know that it doesn’t help to ask the question, but I can’t stop asking it. I’m so jealous of everyone else. I want petty problems. I don’t like having to think about my health every moment of every day. I am so very tired and so very sad.

However, I feel very fortunate to have the top surgeons at Stanford lined up to work on me on the 28th. For example, Dr. Andy Shelton (my colorectal surgeon) is known as the surgeon who takes the hardest cases and treats his patients as if they are members of his family. Interestingly, his physician assistant ended up spending over an hour with Pat and me last week to talk about how to get through all of this in a holistic way. When I told him that one of the things that I was focused on was nutrition, he agreed that while nutrition was important, he said that I also needed to focus on feeding my soul.

So – what do I do? How do I deal with this profound challenge? I have lined up the best surgeons and one of the top oncologists. And – most likely I will get a second or third opinion on my chemo protocol prior to starting treatment. So what can I do now to help my body to heal itself?

I know that over the past 2 years I have alluded to my spiritual journey. I have done a lot of work on that front, but this most recent diagnosis has brought me to a whole new level of effort. The gravity of my situation cannot be ignored. So I am not only doing a lot of internal work to bring peace to my life, but I am also reaching out to others who are farther along the spiritual journey than I am.

This next part I have debated even writing on this blog, since I know that so many of you will think that I’ve lost it. But hell, I’m fighting Stage 4 colon cancer and I have 2 young beautiful children, so I’ve decided that you will understand why I am doing what I’m doing. And so, I will share my plans for the next part of my journey with all of you.

I am going to Brazil next week to see John of God. Ok – I’ve said it. I have decided to meet with an internationally known healer to ask for his help in healing me. Many of you may have heard of him (I’m sure many of you are googling him right now…) I have been told about him several times over the last couple of years, and I always found it to be an interesting idea, but I never seriously considered going.

But, things have changed. About a week ago, it was strongly recommended to me that I go and see John of God prior to my surgery. That seemed completely crazy. How could I possibly put together a trip BEFORE my surgery (the surgeons wanted to operate within a few weeks.) Then, a day later, a dear friend of mine offered to give me his airline miles which were expiring in September so that I could have a free flight to Brazil. Then, one of the official guides offered to bring me at a very good price because he was inspired by my story. Then, a business colleague of Pat’s went to the Brazilian consulate and pleaded with them to expedite my visa (which they are doing). Furthermore, my children were already going to be out of town visiting my parents that week, so there were no childcare issues. The door opened up to me and so I’ve decided to walk through it. I am nervous, excited and hopeful.

So – off I go on July 19th to embark on this healing journey. I will return on the 25th and will plan to rest for a couple of days prior to my surgery on the 28th.

In addition to my upcoming adventure in Brasilia, I am also exploring Jewish activities that will help me on my spiritual journey. For example, I am scheduled to go to the Mikvah to pray with a local Rabbi’s wife when I return prior to my surgery. Apparently, this is a very powerful time for prayer. I’ve never been to a Mikvah, but I am now open to so many things that I would have dismissed such a short time ago.

What has been one of the most difficult things is that physically I feel great. Until this diagnosis, I had no idea what ugliness was inside of me. It is difficult knowing that I am going to go from feeling just fine, to being in extreme pain. I can understand why some people just choose not to deal with their diagnosis and just see how things play out. But that’s not an option for me. I must continue to do everything in my power to heal – with western medicine, eastern medicine and everything else that’s out there. That is my responsibility to my children.

I choose to believe that this cancer was meant to make me a better person and to help others recognize the blessing of good health, friends and family. I am learning. I am becoming a better person. And, it seems to be having some positive impact on others. I received an e-mail this morning from a dear friend who wrote the following to me: “your life journey has helped bring me closer to all that matters in my life. You saying “yes” to this adventure (Brazil) and living fully your life now, is inspiring to me – propelling me forward on my path, sparking me to consider the “yeses” in my life with renewed gusto.”

So my journey continues. I want to thank all of you for the important role that you have played thus far in my travels. I have received countless beautiful messages that have inspired me and given me strength. Although I haven’t had the ability to respond, please know that I am so very grateful for your continuous love and support.

The Roller Coaster Continues - PET Scan Results

Well, after I wrote that last e-mail about how relieved I was that only one nodule was found, I received a call from my oncologist informing me that they wanted me to have a PET scan to see if there was anything else out there that wasn’t captured in the CT scan.

On Saturday, I went back down to Stanford for yet another test. I don’t know how many of you have had a PET scan before, but it’s not a whole lot of fun. First, they inject you with tracer fluid and then you drink a lovely cocktail (so they could add another CT scan) and then you are put into a machine with your arms over your head and told that you cannot move for the next 25 minutes. (The tech did tell me that I could breathe during the exam. Strangely enough, I don’t think that he was joking. Do people really ask him if they can breathe during a 25 minute exam??)

On Monday morning at 10:30 am, I received the call from Dr. Fisher The PET scan confirmed the presence of the cancerous growth that I mentioned in my previous blog posting. Unfortunately, that wasn’t all that was abnormal in the PET scan. The scan picked up 2-3 additional abnormal growths in my colon area. I write “area” because the PET scan cannot discern whether the spots are on the inside or the outside of my colon. On the up side, there was no sign of cancer in any other place in my body. (I’ll find that silver lining…)

So – what does this all mean? It looks like I will definitely have to surgically remove and/or radiate the location of the 12 mm nodule. This was not a surprise, since they were confident last week that this nodule was cancerous. I have an appointment on Friday with Dr. Hussein, the same gynecological oncology surgeon who performed my hysterectomy, for an examination and a discussion regarding her recommendation for future treatment.

As to the 2-3 spots in/near my colon, we have a few steps ahead of us. First, I will have a colonoscopy on Thursday for the doctors to try to determine whether I have cancerous nodules in my colon. Obviously, we are praying that they determine that what they saw is not cancerous (since PET scans are known to produce false-positive results). If they do find cancerous nodules, our next hope is that they are localized within my colon. If that’s the case, they may be able to approach these cancerous sites much like they will the other nodule – with some surgery and radiation. If, however, they determine that there is cancer floating outside of my colon, then most likely, my oncologist will recommend another round of chemotherapy. Needless to say, that is the least enticing of these options.

This has been a tremendous blow to me and my family. I am unable to put into words the emotions that swirl around us every day as we face this very strong adversary. But I will live. I am determined. Heck – Ellie and Ari are determined. I told them that I needed them to help me heal by making me laugh more. I don’t know if you’re familiar with 6 year old humor – but the jokes really are not very funny. But, what warms my heart, is their dogged determination to come up with ways to make me smile and their joy when they hear me laugh. They now have a role to play in helping mommy become healthy. We are a team, together with all of you, and I just know that with all of your amazing love, support, determination and laughter that we are going to succeed.

Results

Late this afternoon, I received a call from Margreet (Dr. Fisher's right hand) regarding last night's CT scan. Apparently, I have a 12 mm nodule that is cancerous. They believe that it was derived from a cancer cell that was on the outside of the area that was flushed with chemo. The very good news is that there is no sign of cancer in any other location in my body (liver, lungs etc.) In fact, there is a possibility that they will be able to cut the nodule out and/or hit it with localized radiation rather than going through chemo again. Dr. Fisher has been out of town and will be back tomorrow night to review my CT scan and make his recommendation as to the appropriate course of action.

Needless to say, we are very happy with this news. Of course, I still have cancer and it will have to be treated, but I am no longer in the dark abyss that kept me up all night.

I am so grateful to my wonderful OBGYN who insisted on doing my routine pap smear and for the fact that somehow he was able to locate this cancer. At the risk of sounding preachy, I hope that this is a reminder to everyone that routine tests are so very important. Please don't put off the pap smear, colonoscopy, mammogram or whatever else is on your list.

Now - I'm off to do a puzzle with Ellie and dance with Ari....

A Recurrence

About 2 hours ago, I received a call from my OBGYN. After a routine pap smear, he called to let me know that the test shows that I have cancer cells. We don't know very much now. I will be heading down to Stanford tonight for a CT scan and then we'll know the extent of the cancer and then determine the best way to move forward to treat it.

I am fairly distraught right now. I debated putting this out there before we knew more, but I figured that I could use a lot of prayers right now.

Please pray for me and my family. Please hug your family. Please stop worrying about the stupid, petty things. All that matters is your health and your family. Every minute, every hour, every day is a blessing.

No Options

As I stated in my previous blog, I have embarked on a journey of healing. Last week, I met with a Buddhist healer, Nestor, to discuss approach to life and health.

He said to me “Eve, you no longer have options. If you want to be healthy and remain cancer-free, you must cut out destructive foods, unhealthy thoughts and unnecessary stress. You must also meditate, slow down, exercise and sleep more. If you go back to your old, familiar ways, you will create an acidic environment in your body and you will be fighting cancer once again. You have no options.”

Wow. That’s a lot to absorb. He told me to start with creating a list of intentions and putting it on my bathroom mirror to look at daily – both in the morning and at night.

Perhaps the most important, but for me the most difficult activity on this list is meditation. It is hard to calm my mind. I actually like that I think about several things all at once. It makes me feel efficient and productive. However, after reflecting on this, I have realized that the most effective individuals are ones that are calm and focused. Nestor suggests that it’s like being in the middle of a tornado. There is calm inside while things swirl all around you. With calm comes clarity of mind and ability to conserve energy to direct at the important tasks at hand.

So – he suggested that I begin with 3 minutes of meditation twice a day. Eventually, I’ll work up to more time, but 3 minutes is a good place to start.

I also wanted to mention that I saw Dr. Fisher on Thursday. He declared me healthy once again. However, I didn’t feel that same sense of elation that I had last time. I will have my port removed in the next few weeks and I will have another CT scan and blood work in 3 months. He also gave me a lecture on eliminating unnecessary stress in order to heal. It seems like the western and eastern practitioners are in agreement when it comes to stress – it just isn’t good for your health.

I hope that you all are enjoying spring as new life and beauty abound (that’s another thing that I’m working on – literally stopping to smell the flowers!)

No Evidence of Recurrence of Metastatic Disease!

This past Wednesday, I had quite an ordeal at the radiology center at Stanford. I went in for my baseline CT scan following chemo. It took 4 different attempts to access a vein because I had what is referred to as “chemo veins.” Apparently, chemo does quite a number on your veins and mine were either hardened or collapsed. After 3 attempts, they finally called in the person who could always find a good vein – Arianna – a transsexual nurse. Only in the Bay Area. Needless to say, having her at my side gave me more to concentrate on then my painful veins and eventually we were successful.

So – the results? I received a call from Margreet telling me that there was no evidence of recurrence of metastatic disease. (Ok – I guess I tipped you off by the title of this blog.) I am incredibly relieved. However, it doesn’t feel the same as the last time that I received this news. Last time, when Dr. Fisher told me I was cancer free, and that I should hope for 5 years of no cancer – I scoffed at him. 5 years seemed like nothing. Now – I realize that it’s no easy feat.

It’s not over. I can’t just go back to the way I lived prior to the recurrence (which largely resembled life prior to my original diagnosis). That didn’t work. I need to make some profound changes and this time, I’ve already begun my journey. Over the next few blogs, I plan to write about this journey. I was just telling someone last night that only months ago I would have laughed if anyone had told me that I would be looking at some of the healing modalities that I am now exploring. But that’s what facing a life-threatening disease does – it forces you to consider everything that’s out there in order to stay alive. Every time that I feel my cynical side coming out – I just look at my daughters and refocus on my task at hand – living to see them grow up.

On Thursday, I will return to Stanford to see Dr. Fisher to talk about next steps. As the Passover holiday comes to an end, I feel blessed that the angel of death has once again passed over my home. I look forward to celebrating good health and happiness with all of you in the year ahead.

I’M DONE!!!

Well, today I wrapped up my last day of chemo. I am exhausted but incredibly relieved that I made it through. I was a little nervous that we weren’t going to get the chemo in today since I was quite bloated, but I went to my marvelous acupuncturist last night and walked on the treadmill both last night and this morning and that seemed to do the trick! I released enough fluid to enable me to get in the full treatment today. I was thrilled. But I am swimming in toxins right now.

I have so much that I want to write about my healing journey over the past several weeks, but for right now, I just need to go and rest. This has been a long road. I am now on my own to make sure that I keep my body in a condition where cancer does not want to reside. This will be done through my diet, my mind, my herbal supplements and my eastern medicine treatments.

The next step on the western medical front is to get a baseline CT scan on March 29 (they said that they want to see what the heck the chemo did to my insides over the past few months). I will then have an appointment with Dr. Fisher to go over my plan, which will most likely involve blood tests every few months with follow up CT scans every 6 months.

I have a lot of work ahead of me, but I am proud to say that this time I have jumped into my healing in a much more profound way than I did two years ago. I believe that this effort will be the one that will give me the greatest likelihood to have a long life.

Thank you all for your incredible support over the last several months. Your love, prayers and positive thoughts, along with a ton of delicious meals, mean more to me and my family than I can put into words. This has been a long haul (and it’s not over!) but I made it through a very significant portion of my treatment. And I did it with your help.

As I said goodbye to the incredible nurses at Stanford today, I literally cried. They are truly some of the most amazing individuals that I’ve ever met. Their kindness paired with their exceptional competence has made this whole experience so much better than it could have been. I feel fortunate that I live in a country that enabled me to have such fine health care. I guess that I’m just feeling a lot of gratitude today and I wanted to share it with all of you.

I am planning to celebrate over the weekend my new lease on life. I will celebrate the many years I will have ahead with my wonderful daughters (who made cupcakes and cards for all of the nurses today – so precious) and fabulous friends and family.

I hope you all have a phenomenal weekend filled with joy and love.

It's Almost Dress in Blue Day - March 5th!

As many of you may recall from last year, Dress in Blue Day is held once a year to bring attention to Colorectal Cancer. This event is held on the first Friday of March – which is March 5th.

Why we need to bring attention to colorectal cancer (except for the obvious reason that I have it!):

. Colorectal cancer is the #2 cause of cancer death in the U.S.
. Over 150,000 Americans will be diagnosed with colorectal cancer each year.
. Colorectal cancer often has no symptom at all until it's at an advanced stage.
. Colorectal cancer is 80% preventable when detected early.
. You can reduce your risk through regular screening.
. Beginning at age 50 (or earlier if you have a family history), everyone should be screened for colorectal cancer.

Dress in Blue Day was started in March of 2006 by a Colon Cancer Alliance volunteer and survivor, Anita Mitchell. In an effort to raise awareness about the importance of screening, Anita worked with her children's local k-8 Catholic school and parents to coordinate a recognition day. On that day, students, who normally wore a uniform to school, were allowed to wear blue if they donated a dollar to colon cancer research. To promote the event, Anita sent a notice to each of the 500 families at the school, letting them know about the special day and included some simple screening guidelines for the parents. When the children came to school on Dress in Blue Day they were each given a blue ribbon, signifying their participation.

In 2007, Anita dedicated Dress in Blue Day to her friend, Carmen, who had passed away from colon cancer and to all others who had lost their fight against colorectal cancer. In addition, Anita received a proclamation from the Mayor declaring it Dress in Blue Day for the city of Seattle.

If you or your company is interested in finding out more about how to promote this day, please go to http://www.ccalliance.org/news_events_dress-in-blue.html.

As for me, I’ve now gone through 2 days of Round 3. We are hopeful that tomorrow I will be able to finish up this round with my 3rd day. I went to the gym both this morning for 45 minutes and after chemo this evening for 45 minutes, to try to encourage my body to release the fluid that it had gained over the past 2 days. I have a 6:45 am meeting with my acupuncturist for her to tell my body to release the fluid as well. Hopefully this will all work and I’ll be completely filled with chemo tomorrow – so that no cancer can escape the poison!

I’m feeling pretty good and confident that tomorrow will be successful, but please continue to send your prayers and good thoughts my way! And don’t forget to dress in blue on March 5th!

What a Day!

On Thursday, things did not go as planned. After 2 days of chemo (Tue & Wed), I woke up to a very distended stomach. I was panic-stricken because I couldn’t figure out where the heck they were going to be able to put two more liters of chemo. What would happen to my stomach? I didn’t think it could stretch that quickly to accommodate all of the new fluid.

With those concerns in mind, Pat and I drove back down to Stanford, figuring that they knew what they were doing and somehow this was going to all work out. I’m not going to go into the details here, since even recounting them makes me a little woozy, but let’s just say that after many hours of trying to access my port to get the chemo in, they were unable to do so because of the amount of fluid in my body. They attempted to get me in to see a surgeon to see if he/she could help, but the surgeons were slammed and so we waited. After 6 hours of waiting and trying multiple times to access the port (which involves some really large needles), Dr. Fisher finally told the nurses to send me home.

This was not a good day. I was mentally prepared to get chemo (although worried about where it was going to go) and to be turned away after 6 hours was not easy. I want to get as much chemo in me as possible to kill this darn cancer. But, I have to trust Dr. Fisher and if he says that it’s time to go home, then it’s time to go home.

So - I’m officially one-half way through (unless Dr. Fisher decides to extend my chemo due to Thursday’s failure). I’m sore and tired from a very long week. The one plus from not getting chemo on Thursday is that I felt well enough to volunteer at Ellie’s Valentine’s Day party yesterday. She couldn’t have been happier.

Next is Round 3 – set to begin on February 23. In the meantime, my family is going to rest, regroup and try to enjoy every moment together. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Round 2 - Day 1 Update

So today I traveled down to Stanford to begin the three day regimen of "Round 2 protocol." I started off by meeting with my amazing Dr. Fisher. Have I mentioned that he is not only the smartest oncologist on the planet, but also the kindest?! Anyway, he informed me that my blood work looked great and that he was pleased with how my body was weathering the chemo. At that point I was expecting for him to inform me that he’d want to add another chemo drug that would be administered intravenously.

But that’s not what he said. Apparently, there are three potential chemo drugs that he was considering adding: Erbitux, Irinotecan and Avastin. Unfortunately, these drugs have not shown to be effective on individuals who do not have tumors. This has shocked scientists, since the natural assumption was that if the drugs work on tumors, that they should work on cancer at the microscopic level. However, that has not proven to be the case. Thus, since I don’t have any tumors, it really doesn’t make sense to add any of them to my chemo regimen.

Therefore, the plan is to continue to blast my abdomen cavity where he believes there is the greatest likelihood of recurrence with a dose of chemo that is 100x the amount that he would have put through my bloodstream (yes – 100 x!) and watch me carefully. So this is my basic plan: After I go through two more days of chemo this week, I will have one week off, go back for three more days, have one week off and then the last three days and I’ll be done. We will then monitor my blood, get regular CT scans and pray. If a tumor does reemerge, than Dr. Fisher said that we will have a host of chemo options to use.

After hearing that news, both Pat and I experienced mixed emotions. Although I am thrilled that I will keep my hair, not get overwhelmingly ill or have a horrendous rash, it now means that I alone will be responsible for ensuring that the cancer does not come back in organs outside of my abdomen. I won’t have a partner in poison. This requires an active effort on my part. As many of you know, this time around, I truly have begun making significant changes in the way I approach my life: I have changed my diet; started taking a LOT of herbal supplements; begun iyengar yoga; started qi gong; continue to see my acupuncturist regularly; see a holistic healer; have my reiki healing neighbor work on me and I’m now looking into pranic healing. Six months ago I would have laughed if anyone would have told me that I would be engaging in all of these activities. It’s amazing how inspired you can become to change your entire outlook on different healing options when your life is at stake.

As for tonight – I’m actually feeling pretty good. I feel a little bloated from all of the chemo and saline in my belly (and I’m trying to figure out how big my abdomen will become over the next two days). However, I feel very very blessed. If this is what my chemo program will be like over the next two months – I am one lucky gal. When you go into the transfusion center there are so many people who are going through so much more. I am a little tired though and have a big day tomorrow (before chemo, I’m working at the Valentine’s Day party in Ari’s classroom) – so I think I’ll head to bed now.

Thank you all for your wonderful notes, prayers and words of encouragement. It means more to me than I can ever express.

Round 1 (Take 2)

Well – I made it through Round 1. It was actually a lot easier than I was expecting. I went to Stanford on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday (the 25th, 26th and 27th of January) and was amazed by how well I felt afterwards. I was tired, bloated and a bit nauseated, but those were really the main impacts during that week. In fact, on the Friday following the 3 days of chemo, I went to my acupuncturist at 6:30 am, worked a full day at the Port, went to yoga and then out to dinner and a movie with my girlfriends.

I have also begun my herbal supplements. I take approximately 50 pills a day. I’m hopeful that this insanity will only last throughout my treatment and that my herbalist will significantly reduce my dosages following this chemo regimen. However, something must be working because for those of you who have seen me, I do not look like a person going through chemo. I look and feel very strong and vibrant. Of course, I’ve only gone through one round and I have a lot further to go – but so far, so good.

So, on Tuesday, I head back to Stanford for another 3 days of fun. I will be meeting with Dr. Fisher to discuss the potential of adding another chemo drug to my regimen. He wanted to see how my body handled the FUDR (the chemo that I’m taking now) before he added something else. The problem is that the 2 drugs that he’s looking at promise to be very rough for me. Both drugs would be given intravenously (rather than directly into the cavity like my current drug). The side effects from one would be an extreme rash that would cover my face, chest and arms for weeks (apparently it’s worse than a bad case of teenage acne). He tells his patients to avoid looking in a mirror for several weeks. The side effects from the other would be a low white blood cell count, hair loss and extreme nausea. Let’s just say that should I move forward with either one of these drugs, I do not have a good time ahead of me.

But I’m not going to worry about that today. Today, I’m going to find joy in the little things. Today I will focus on playing with my children and being grateful for all of the blessings in my life. Today, I will be glad to just be. My kids are calling so off I go….

Your Wonderful Positive Energy

On the eve before I head down to Stanford to begin my second (and final) round of chemo, I just wanted to thank you all for your incredible energy. Every doctor and alternative treatment person that I meet with asks me if I have a strong support network. I feel so blessed to be able to say that my circle of family and friends is quite simply phenomenal. I have read many books that point to the fact that there are studies that prove that those patients that have a strong support system have significantly more success than those who do not. So - thank you.

Today I received a beautiful necklace from a dear friend and neighbor (yes - I do have the most amazing neighbors!). There is a lovely inscription on it that I wanted to share with all of you as I head down to Stanford:

What Cancer Cannot Do....

It Cannot...

Invade the soul
Suppress memories
Kill friendship
Destroy peace
Conquer the spirit
Shatter hope
Cripple love
Corrode faith
Steal eternal life
Silence courage

It's Chemo Time

I realize that I’ve been out of communication for quite some time. Quite frankly, I’ve been overwhelmed with the amount of work that I have in front of me. Whereas the last time I was diagnosed, I pushed through the chemo, took some herbal supplements, saw an acupuncturist and then declared victory and went back to my regular life – this time I cannot. It’s been a hell of a wake up call. I thought that I had heard the message the last time – I prioritized my kids and vowed not to take things at work so seriously. But those weren’t the only messages that I was supposed to receive. There were deeper, more profound lessons to be learned.

So – over the past few weeks I have embarked on my new journey of self discovery. I am now voraciously reading about healing, I’m meeting with both a healer (who also treats the Dalai Lama) and my phenomenal acupuncturist, I changed my diet to try to starve the cancer and I’ve started going to yoga class (and plan to add Qi Gong). Amazingly enough, my next door neighbor is a reiki healer (that’s the Bay Area for you!) and is serving as a spiritual guide for me as I explore this whole new world of mind-body connectivity.

On the western medical front, I met with Dr. Fisher a week ago to walk through what he wants to do. He spent 1.5 hours explaining the specialized program that he came up with. He told me that he’s throwing out the rule book for me. That is both scary and exciting. The plan is the following: utilizing the port in my abdomen, he plans to put in a liter of chemo and a liter of saline for 3 days in a row. During the chemo treatment, they will plan to roll me from side to side to slosh it around, so that it gets into every nook and cranny. I will then wait 2-3 weeks and then we’ll do it again. He plans to do this 4 times over the course of 2-3 months.

While this is a normal course of treatment for people with ovarian cancer, delivering chemo directly into the abdomen is very unusual for colon cancer (at least in the West – I have since learned that this is fairly common protocol in China). Dr. Fisher said that he believes that if there are cancer cells floating around that most likely they would be in my abdomen and with the full concentration of chemo, that I will have the best possibility of killing any more rogue cells. He explained that if he administered the chemo through my veins (like they did the last time), that it would be diluted by the time that it reached my belly, lowering the toxicity to the cancer cells.

This past week, my sister and I traveled down to UCSD to meet with Dr. Tony Reid, also a renowned colon cancer oncologist, to get a second opinion on my course of treatment. He agreed with the protocol that Dr. Fisher is recommending and felt that it would give me the greatest chance of success. I now feel confident moving forward with my unorthodox treatment, since two of the greatest minds in colorectal oncology have agreed on the best course of action.

So what are the side effects? My stomach will probably be distended and I’ll be fatigued. They are not expecting any hair loss, excessive nausea or neuropathy. They believe that it will be much easier on me overall than last time, since they won’t be running the poison through my entire system.

Dr. Fisher is also considering adding another drug that would be administered intravenously. However, for the time being, we’re going to proceed with the IP chemo (that’s what they’re calling this type of delivery of chemo) and see how my body handles it and then determine if it makes sense to add another.

So, I will be heading down to Stanford this Tuesday to begin the first of three days of chemo. At this point, they’re not planning on admitting me to the hospital – I’ll just come home each day. Please send all of your wonderful prayers and positive thoughts to me this week as I begin the process of ridding my body once and for all of cancer.