Mixed Results

Yesterday, I went for my regular CT scan. I figured I wouldn’t hear results from Stanford until I went in for my cancer treatment next Thursday. 

But this morning as I was preparing to take the girls sledding, I looked down at my ringing phone to see Dr. Fisher’s Caller ID. Pat and I braced ourselves for the news…a personal call this soon couldn’t be good.

Two of my tumors have grown, one has stayed the same and one has shown a significant decrease.  Mixed results. And a real bummer for me, because even though one tumor has decreased, no one likes to hear that two other tumors have grown.

Thankfully, instead of just calling with the results, George worked with his colleagues to make sure he was calling with a plan of action.  

First, we’re going to confirm that the tumor growth is actual cancer growth.  As you may recall, last time I was scanned I was told, “Don’t panic if we see growth.” With all of the chaos that the drug causes it can make the tumor appear to grow right before it begins to go away.  My doctors will biopsy the tumor soon to determine if it is actual cancer growth or just inflammation.

If the biopsy shows actual cancer growth, then George plans to radiate the tumor.  They believe combining my experimental therapy with radiation treatment will stimulate my immune system to fight all of the cancer within my body – not just the tumor being radiated.  In fact, two melanoma patients weren’t seeing any results from the immunotherapy drug but then, when radiation was introduced, witnessed miraculous results – the tumors disappeared completely!  While this theory has never been tested on colon cancer, George thinks I can be a pioneer on this front. He hopes we’ll witness the same miracle in my body, with the goal that my case will someday be cited in papers showing the miraculous effect of PDL-1 in combination with radiation – a new hope for patients with colon cancer.

I told George that I choose to look at all of the good news he provided me today:  there are no new tumors, the existing tumors aren’t in any vital organs, my CEA (cancer indicator in my blood) has remained steady, there was an actual decrease in size of one of the tumors (which means that the drug is working), and they are not recommending pulling me off of the study and going back to chemo (which is the greatest news of all).  

As I hung up the phone, I reminded George that I planned to be around for a very long time, so whatever he needs to do to ensure my longevity – I’m all in.   I could hear his smile over the phone.

Following our long talk with George, Pat and I took a deep breath, turned to our children, my sister and her family (we’re vacationing with them) and declared that it was time to go sledding.  Because this is what this whole journey is all about – learning to savor time with our loved ones and live each day to its fullest. 

As I watched all four kids attempt to ride on one sled, laughing and covered with snow, it occurred to me how very lucky I am. For the past five years while I’ve struggled with cancer, I’ve been surrounded by my loving and supportive family, colleagues and friends. If the biopsy shows that the growth is only inflammation, then all is well. To be honest, whatever the biopsy shows, all is well. 

Happy New Year, Everyone.

Nes Gadol Haya Poh

On Friday, I attended the funeral of an amazing woman who passed away in her sleep last Monday morning from a brain tumor.  Tiffanie Kalmbach was the same age as me, born on Ellie and Ariel’s birthday, but in 1967.  We bought our home in Piedmont from Tiffanie and her husband when the girls were only one year old, three years before I too, was diagnosed with cancer.  Tiffanie battled brain cancer for 15 years, and for the last couple of years tried to recover from a stroke, which crippled her entire left side.

She lived her life with dignity, grace, spunk and humor.  At her funeral, it was said many times that she never had a drop of self-pity, deciding instead to fully live and appreciate every day.   As I was listening to the eulogies and the subsequent conversations at her life celebration following the funeral, it kept striking me how incredibly remarkable this woman was.  Although I don’t wallow in self-pity, I have had my moments of anger, sadness and feeling sorry for myself.  That she did not have these emotions was just stunning to me.  She was so brave and so strong.

As I sat through her funeral, my sadness overwhelmed me.  Why was this vibrant woman, so full of life, taken from us and her beautiful family at such an early age?  What is the meaning of it all?  How will her kids fare without her? How long will it be before my family sits at the synagogue mourning my loss?  Will anyone come to my funeral?  (Yes – that concern did go through my mind – much as I’m embarrassed to admit it.)

When I called Pat in tears, he kept saying “Eve, this is not your story.  She fought valiantly for 15 years, but you are going to be around for a lot longer.”  He’s right.  I plan for mine to be a miracle story.

This past year has been a rollercoaster – discovering the growth of the tumor in my spleen, removing the spleen and being told that there was no more cancer to be found, finding out 2 months later that the cancer had grown back and was aggressive and inoperable, then finding out that there was a potential study that I could participate in, then finding out that my tumors had to qualify for the study, then finding out that my tumors did qualify for the study and, most recently finding out that the study seems to be working.

Throughout Chanukah, as we danced the hora, sang Chanukah songs, ate latkes and opened presents, the dreidel game was particularly poignant.  The letters on the side of the dreidel: Nun, Gimel, Hei, Shin – stand for Nes Gadol Haya Sham – “A great miracle happened there (Israel).”   However, in Israel, instead of a Shin, the dreidles have the letter Pei for the word “Poh” meaning “here” – since the great miracle (the oil lasting for 8 days instead of 1 day) happened in the land of Israel.

On one of the nights of Chanukah, as a dear friend was leaving my home after having celebrated with us, she turned to me and said, “Eve – Nes Gadol Haya Poh.”  Because, indeed, with me continuing to live my life at warp speed, with my body finally returning to its pre-chemo days and with the study appearing to keep the cancer in check – a great miracle has happened here.

I hope that you all have had, and will continue to have, a wonderful holiday season – full of light, love and plenty of "Nessim" (miracles) in your own lives.