Three weeks ago, I got the
e-mail that I truly was hoping not to receive.
My latest biopsy showed cancer was in my lymph node. I was devastated. I’d placed so much hope in this experimental
treatment that to have the cancer re-emerge was a kick in the gut.
After a little bout of crying, I wiped the
tears from my eyes and called Dr. Kohrt to talk through the results and next
steps. He laid out two options: 1) keep going with the study and check
constantly to see if the lymph nodes change.
If they increase, we start radiation immediately or 2) we start radiation immediately if the
radiation oncologist thinks that my body can handle the toxicity. He didn’t hesitate to say that in his
opinion, the second option is the best option.
When
I said to Dr. Kohrt that I was surprised that he didn’t sound distressed about
the cancer, his response was that he wasn't
concerned at all. He knew there was a strong possibility that we were
going to find cancer in the lymph node and he had already planned a course of
action. In his mind, there were no
surprises. “I only get upset when something unexpected occurs and I DON’T have
a plan.”
His great attitude gave me the hope I’d needed and I told him
that it appeared that I'd live to fight another day. “Eve,” he responded,
“You're going to live to fight not just for one more day, but for many many
many more days."
Just like me, you may think
that cancer in my lymph node is a step backward, but it could actually be a strange
blessing in disguise. Without finding
the cancer, they wouldn’t have the opportunity to incorporate the
radiation. The providers of the study wouldn’t
allow it. But now my doctors have a
reason to “up the ante” and I’m all in.
About 2 weeks ago, I met
with Dr. Albert Koong, the brilliant radiation oncologist who is working with Dr.
Fisher on my case. He explained to me
that they’re planning to use the next generation of the cyberknife – the Varian
Truebeam - to attack the lymph
nodes. Apparently, it uses an arch of
radiation to zero in on the lymph nodes.
Because of the proximity of the larger of the lymph nodes to both my
spine and my bowel, they have to be extremely careful and have pinpoint
accuracy. I warned him that he was not
allowed to go out drinking the night before my radiation and he even promised
to get a good night’s sleep prior to my treatments.
So we are planning to have 3
days of radiation in a row – February 11,
12 and 13 and then I’ll get my next dose of immunotherapy on the 14th.
When I spoke with Dr. Koong,
he seemed almost giddy about the opportunity to test out the theory that PDL-1
and radiation will work on a colon cancer patient. I will be the first colon cancer patient in
the world to test their theory. Dr.
Fisher wrote me a note last week about what we were about to do and at the end,
he signed off, “Eve, just make me famous.”
I plan to do exactly that.
On Thursday I was at
Stanford once again to get a mold made for my body to hold it still during the
radiation treatment, a CT scan and a PET scan to map out my body for next
week’s radiation.
But – this week is
free. I don’t have to drive to
Stanford. I can focus on my job and my
family. Ariel is in a play on Thursday
night at her school. She has been
practicing her part for months.
And I’ll be there to beam with pride.
These are the moments that I am fighting for. This is why I subject myself to treatment
upon treatment. This is why I am willing
to be the ultimate guinea pig in the next potential breakthrough for cancer
patients.
As Dr. Kohrt was signing
off from our difficult conversation weeks ago, his last words to me about the
cancer were “You are stronger than it is.
Remember that.”
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