September 2, 2012

The last week of August was a busy one, in terms of this cancer thing.  Busy, but in a good way!  

Feeling like I had finally recovered from the ankle injury, I cautiously laced on my running shoes and slowly resumed the after-work power walks as training for the half-marathon in January.  While laid up in the evenings letting the ankle heal, I powered up Google and did some research on ankle injuries.  The single most common denominator seems to be overstriding.  In my case, take a pair of uber-long legs and combine them with some purposeful power walking (and an iPod full of fast-beat tunes) and the product is an ultra long stride.  Now, multiply that by thousands of steps over many miles and the result can be a painful ankle boo-boo. 

 

OK, so my strides aren’t that long,
but I also ain’t chasing prey across the savannah either…..

 

After this week’s walks, shortening my stride is still a work in progress – it’s difficult to retrain your body to perform a subconscious and virtually involuntary movement differently than how you’ve been doing it forever.  A shorter stride feels awkward and abnormal, but apparently it indeed helps because I had no ankle pain.  I only logged about 10 miles over three days, but it felt fabulous!  One of the benefits of joining The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society’s Team In Training is the first-rate coaching, and I’m looking forward to it to not only get me “from couch to finish line” but to teach me how to get there injury-free.  

Thursday morning was my latest opportunity to sheathe myself in a billowing bolt of cloth, have 100cc of Omnipaque 350 injected intravenously into my body, and undergo computed tomography from my thoracic inlet to my symphysis pubis.  Sexy talk, right?  In other words, a CT scan with contrast dye of my chest, abdomen, and pelvis.



Really?  They can put a man on the moon but they can't make a
hospital gown that covers the southbound side of a northbound Terry?  Geez.



Adornments on one arm.....



 

.....and on the other.

 

All cath-ed up and ready to go.

Peace, love, and scans.

 

Like all the other CT scans, this one was quick and painless, and the nurse and radiology tech were superb.  Afterwards, it was off to work.  

 

Friday was a pretty big-deal day.  First, it was a stop at the lab for a blood-draw, to check my levels to compare them with those of three months ago.

 



Why yes, it IS hard to take a one-handed photo whilst
a needle is piercing your vein!

 

Ooooooooohhhh, pretty colors!

 

Fill 'er up!

 

Then it was up to the third floor for the appointment with Dr. Hampshire my most rad oncologist, to go over the results of the previous days’ CT scan. 

 

110/70

 

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t apprehensive or anxious, because even though I feel terrific, the uninvited cancer fuckers could have been partying heavily during the last three months and caused some serious damage to their host’s house (um, that’d be my BODY…..)  

 

Evidently, however, the little buggers hadn’t been throwing all-night keggers in my lymphatic system.  They’ve been quietly packing their tiny suitcases and jumping on the train out of Terryville.  Because after Dr. Hampshire told me the results of Thursday’s CT compared to March’s scan, I can officially say that the past three months have been “The Summer of My Shrinking Lymph Nodes.”  RIGHT ON!!!!! 

 

 

 

 

For those closet med-geeks (of which I am proudly one), here’s a synopsis of the lymph node changes:

 

Overall impression:

Interval decrease in the retroperitoneal, pelvic sidewall, and left supraclavicular lymphadenopathy. 

                                               CT Scan                 CT Scan
                                               March 20, 2012:      August 30, 2012:

Retroperitoneal region:

 

Left para-aortic LN*                   2.2 x 1.2 cm           1.4 x 1.0 cm

Left external iliac chain LN          1.6 x 0.8 cm           1.3 x 0.7 cm

Aortocaval LN                            1.9 x 0.7 cm           1.6 x 0.7 cm

 

Pelvic sidewall region:

 

Right external iliac chain LN        2.7 x 1.2 cm           1.4 x 0.8 cm

Left external iliac chain LN          2.9 x 1.9 cm           2.4 x 1.3 cm

 

Supraclavicular region:

There has been interval decrease in the left supraclavicular lymphadenopathy.

 

*LN = Lymph node

 

 

Dr. Hampshire joyfully told me to keep doing what I’m doing – acupuncture, diet and nutrition, supplements, and exercise – and he doesn’t need to see me again for my next CT scan and bloodwork until January.

 

 

Oncologists like to deliver good news - and patients like to hear it!

 

I still have Stage IV Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.  There still is no cure for it.  And it will turn someday.  But today?  It’s still an insignificant part of my life, and I plan on keeping it that way.  

 

Do I feel that the naturopathic approach caused the lymph nodes to decrease?  Definitely.  Do I think that positive thinking, good energy, and the love and well wishes from those around me played a role?  Absolutely.  The mind-body connection is a powerful force when tapped into.  I’m utterly grateful that I have people in my life who are guiding me down that path.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

August 24, 2012

You know when you meet someone for the first time, you instantly pick up on their vibe?  Either you’re immediately at ease with them, or not.  Either you feel like you’re both on the same page with your conversation, or not.  

I had my 3-month check-up and first appointment with Dr. Hampshire on Monday, accompanied by Amanda.  Back on August 4, I wrote about my rationale for switching oncologists, and honestly, I was a little worried about Monday’s initial meeting with Dr. Hampshire.  Even though I’d heard good things about him, I’d never met him.  The possibility existed that he could still be a dick, you know?
 

It's always important that your file folder match your clothing.....

.....and that you bring a sense of humor.

The minute he walked into the exam room, however, any lingering doubts evaporated.  Dr. Hampshire is kind, sharp, very funny, and well-prepared.  I knew I felt comfortable with him when he acknowledged that, even though it’s slow growing and not affecting me much right now, Stage IV Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma IS a big deal!  This is EXACTLY what I blogged about on August 4!  You want your oncologist – of all people! - to take this seriously, so you feel that they will do everything they can for you.  Kinda like my own personal Cancer Samurai, you know?

Dr. Hampshire took his time, had a meaningful dialogue with us, answered all of my questions, and laid out the eventual options.  He was very supportive about my decision to incorporate a naturopathic approach, and was excited to print out a report for me about the treatment/wellness spectrum and the complementary and harmonizing roles of both conventional therapies AND natural strategies.  He devoted a lot of time to explaining what we’ll be watching for as indicators that this cancer thing is beginning to morph – blood counts changing, more lymph nodes enlarging, organ involvement - which will then determine the timing and type of treatment.  I went away from the appointment confident that I made the right decision to switch, and knowing for certain that he will do his best to keep me healthy.

Dr. Hampshire, the newest weapon in my arsenal.

The next stop on this adventure in Cancerland:  CT scan and bloodwork, scheduled for August 30.  That’ll yield some important information, namely if the combination of acupuncture, nutrition, and supplements have knocked the little cancer buggers back some.  Since I’m still new to this cancer game, I’m not sure if that’s even feasible, but anything’s possible, right?  It certainly can’t hurt, AND it’s making me feel a helluva lot healthier than I did before.  

After the appointment with Dr. Hampshire, it was off to La Pinata in Old Town, for a plateful of Guacamole Enchiladas on the outdoor patio under colorful umbrellas – muy bueno!

  

Power food - hell yeh!!!

   

August 18, 2012

I have been doing really well in the beginning stages of training for January’s half marathon:  in the past two weeks alone, I logged over 28 miles of power-walking after work.  I look forward to quitting time when I can put away the hot uniform (and I don't mean "hot" in a good way.....), don shorts and t-shirt, lace up my shoes, do some stretching, plug myself into my iPod, and pump legs and arms with my three favorite walking partners:  Lady Gaga, Michael Jackson, and Pink.  I get to stride by some of the most beautiful sights in San Diego:  Harbor Island, Spanish Landing, Chula Vista Marina on the bay, Liberty Station and the channel. 

Walking across the the bridge over the channel at Liberty Station.

After being in an office all day, the freshness of the blowing breeze and feeling the sun on my face is utterly delicious.  I was slowly increasing my distance and starting to build my stamina and – dare I say it – even beginning to incorporate a teeny little bit of running into the mix. 

Apparently, however, it was time for me to stop for a while…..

The latest in fashionable anklewear.....

Nothing serious, pretty sure it’s just inflammation, but near the end of Thursday’s walk, it began to hurt like a motherfucker.  Ugh.

I shouldn't complain.  It could be worse.....

Today’s status:  very minor swelling, and it feels OK as long as I stay off it.  I’m doing the RICE treatment:  rest, ice, compression, elevation.  Hoping to get back in stride on Monday!  

As far as this cancer thing is concerned, I’m still feeling uber-healthy and whole and very un-sick! 

My three-month check-in is this Monday, August 20.  It will be the first appointment with Dr. Hampshire, the new oncologist I recently switched to, and I’m curious to see where I’m at compared to three months ago.  In those few months, my diet has changed, I’ve incorporated acupuncture and other naturopathic approaches, and I’m exercising far more.  Will it make a difference?  Will bloodwork or scans be better or worse or the same? 

All I know for sure is that I’m not fretting or stressing over it.  Whatever the outcome – from this check-up or from any that follow – I’ll take it as it comes and move forward from there.  

That’s all one can do with anything in their life, right? 

 

August 11, 2012

As promised in yesterday's blog post, I have launched my fundraising website for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's Team In Training, and I'm excited for you to take a look!

http://pages.teamintraining.org/sd/carlsbad13/tpetrovich

It's crazy-easy to make a donation - and any amount will be greatly appreciated.

Peace, love, & CURE!

August 10, 2012

“We have now left Reason and Sanity Junction.  Next stop: Looneyville.”
― Jim Butcher, Grave Peril

And it appears that l have a ticket on that train to Looneyville.  Why?  Because I signed up this week with The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society’s Team In Training to prepare for a half-marathon.

You did WHAT?????

I don’t run.  I’ve never been a runner.  Walking?  Yes.  I love to power-walk and used to most nights after work, but life got in the way and I haven’t for a couple of years.  The only walking I’ve been doing lately is strolling with Jake - but that’s HIS time, when it’s all about him.  Walk, sniff, pee, repeat.  I couldn’t power-walk during those strolls if I had to.  Try pulling a big black nose attached to a 101-pound Rottweiler away from a captivating scent and you’ll understand.  So we stroll.  

So WHY on earth would I sign up to do a half-marathon?  Because apparently I couldn’t resist the siren call of Looneyville.

The official uniform of residents of Looneyville.

Seriously, though, I joined Team In Training because of the miracles performed by The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society (LLS) – namely, taking my amazing friend Carol from a devastating diagnosis of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma nine years ago to triathlete and century bike rider today.  Because of research and development of new and better treatments funded by organizations like The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, Carol’s cancer is gone.  Gone.  That’s a HUGE word in Cancerland.
 

I’m so grateful that Carol has been my hero and a beautiful part of my life for these many years, and I want to do something as payback to the LLS for their part in keeping her here.  I’m also indulging in a bit of selfishness and looking at this as a personal investment.  As of now, my type of cancer – Stage IV Follicular Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma – can be treated, but isn’t curable.  BUT – and this is a big but - advancements are being made every day in chemotherapy and immunotherapy, so by the time I need treatment, there may be even more and better options than those that exist today.  There’s an advantage to having Follicular Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma:  it’s indolent and slow-growing, which buys me time for those new and improved therapies and treatments to become available.  

In 2011 alone, The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society invested more than $76 million in blood cancer research.  Take a look at what they’ve done:

http://www.lls.org/#/aboutlls/researchsuccesses/

To help them achieve their mission, a group of us from the National Park Service and San Diego State University have formed Team IPA (yes, after the beer…..) and will begin preparation in September with Team In Training for the half marathon portion of the Tri-City Medical Center Marathon and Half, January 27, 2013 in Carlsbad, California. 

The birth of Team IPA.  From left to right:
Cabrillo National Monument Chief Ranger Ralph Jones,
SDSU Professor Larry Beck, beautiful Carol,
beautiful Amanda, and Lymphopixie.

I plan on walking the 13.1 miles, with some periodic running thrown in.  Team In Training says they can take participants “from couch to finish line” and I’m gonna hold them to it.  And why not?  I’m feeling fabulously healthy, and this was the perfect reason to lace up my shoes and start moving again.  I’ve already received the okey-dokey from Susan the acupuncturist, and I will consult with the oncologist at my next appointment in a couple weeks.  

I’ve begun my power walks again after work and they feel goooooooood…..

Sweaty and red-faced after a 4 mile power-walk
after work on Harbor Island.

…..and got a jump-start on training by buying my first-ever book on running.

How ironic that this book is SITTING ON THE COUCH for the photo…..

I’ll be developing my fundraising page soon, and you KNOW I’ll be posting the link here on the blog (wink, wink, nudge, nudge…..).  

So far, this cancer thing hasn’t really taken anything away from me.  But it sure has given me a lot:  a healthier diet, peace and gratitude, and a greater boldness.  I’ve done countless 5K walks for various charities over the years, but never anything like this.  

This time, however, it’s personal.  Insanity and madness, yes, but personal. J

“Dispute not with her: she is a lunatic.”
― William Shakespeare, Richard III 

August 4, 2012

Weekly acupuncture with Susan yesterday.  I can unequivocally say that I trust her completely.  She helped me tremendously several years ago with back and neck issues, and subsequently with peri-menopausal symptoms, so I’m a firm believer in the voodoo magic she casts upon my body by way of her needles.  And it’s not just the acupuncture.  It’s the vibe at her clinic that helps with healing, too.

Treated yesterday in the appropriately-named Garden Room.

How can a room NOT have a good vibe with
a cozy quilt hanging on the wall?

It's all Greek to me.....

I believe it’s essential that one feels faith and trust with their health care providers.  After all, your life is literally in their hands.  Doubts or misgivings serve no purpose except to compromise care.

Back on May 7, I wrote about being your own best advocate when it comes to health.  At that time, I was feeling very antsy because my bone marrow biopsy wasn’t scheduled for another three weeks.  The biopsy was the last piece in the puzzle to get this cancer thing staged and to find out what I was up against, so naturally I wanted it done as soon as possible – NOT in three weeks!  So I made a call to the oncologist’s office, advocated for myself, and got the biopsy moved up to avoid that interminable wait.  It’s a good feeling to be in charge and in control, even with a little thing like changing the date of an appointment.
 
Now, I will preface this next part by saying that I love Dr. Glenn, the oncologist – she has a very calming demeanor, gentle hands, and a great sense of humor.  She said this cancer thing was no big deal (which exactly mirrors my philosophy), and her treatment plan (watch-and-wait until I become symptomatic) follows the current protocol for this type and stage of cancer.  So it’s all good, right?

But something wasn’t right – an indefinable element that kept buzzing around my head like a fly. 

 

I finally figured it out, and this isn’t going to make a whole lot of sense:  I felt that the choice of how I was going to face this diagnosis was being decided for me by my oncologist - even though it was the exact same approach I would take.  (See?  I told you it wouldn’t make sense!) 

Being diagnosed with Stage IV cancer is a big-ass deal.  You know, it's the whole “I-guess-I’m-not-immortal-after-all” revelation.  There is no Stage V.  I want my oncologist to SAY this is a big-ass deal.  Something along the lines of, “My god, woman – YOU HAVE STAGE IV CANCER!!!!!” 

OK, maybe not THAT bad, but you get what I mean.  I want the situation to be acknowledged as a big deal.  Sometimes you just want the facts, the straight data – and then YOU want the choice of how to deal with it.

I’m good with the diagnosis.  I’ve accepted it.  But I wanted to be the one to decide that it’s not a big deal for me personally.  I don’t want someone else to tell me that.  It’s all part of feeling in control during an uncontrollable situation, and choosing how to react.  Wow – I really sound like a control freak, huh?!

So I did some research, weighed the pros and cons, and again decided to advocate for myself by switching oncologists - same medical group, same office (they probably even share exam rooms).  Dr. Hampshire is someone I’ve heard great things about, so I’m gonna give him a try.

The 3-month check-up with Dr. Glenn was scheduled for August 17; I was fortunate to get an appointment with Dr. Hampshire for August 20 instead.  Because we’re still working within the same medical group, Dr. Hampshire will be able to pull up all my records, reports, scans, etc. and will be able to take the baton from there.
 
Do I feel bad about leaving Dr. Glenn?  Yes.  I really like her.  But it’s nothing personal against her.  That fly was always going to be buzzing around my head if I didn’t do something about it.  I felt this was the right time to make the switch, not further down the road when I’m undergoing treatment or sick or stressed.
 
What are the take-aways from this experience?  When it comes to cancer, you gotta advocate for yourself.  You gotta be in control.  And you gotta do what’s right for you.
 
Hmmmmm.  A lot like life in general, yes?

This has absolutely nothing to do with anything -
I just thought it was funny.....!

 

July 30, 2012

Acupuncture with Susan last Friday.  Continuing to feel well and healthy and very un-sick!  I can’t emphasize how grateful I am for this normalcy, because I know full well the eventual ramifications of this disease.  I’m thankful for every day that I can go to work, labor in the garden, take Jake on long walks – anything that doesn’t involve cancer.  

I made the cognizant decision a while ago to make this cancer thing an insignificant part of my life.  I mean, at this point, why shouldn’t I?  It’s not affecting how I feel, it’s not influencing how I live, I’m not undergoing chemo right now – so why shouldn’t I tuck it away on the back burner?  Susan and I had this discussion on Friday.  She holds the belief that I should be fully aware at all times of this unwanted guest who’s set up housekeeping in my lymphatic system and bone marrow.  

I explained that I am indeed acutely aware that I have Stage IV Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma – it’s one of the reasons I frequently utilize the full term when describing it – and it’s never far away in my daily consciousness.  Every day, I read or research something new about it (or blog about it).  However, I’m not giving cancer the power to dictate how or what I do.  

Instead, I’m choosing to give power to:

Balance.
Levity.
Joy.
Forgiveness.
Beauty.
Mindfulness.
Strength.
Relaxation.
Tolerance.
Peace.

And, the biggest of all:  letting go. 

People and issues and past hurts that were monumental not very long ago are mere blips on the radar screen.  To be sure, I dwell, ruminate, and stew like every one else, but it’s so much easier now to give the matter due attention and then just let it go.  Life truly IS too short, ya know?  Why would one choose to fill their mind and spirit with negatives and grudges and damaging stuff?  Because that’s exactly what it is: a choice.  We all make the choice to either be pissed off or weak or bitter – or to sac up, face it head on, and roll with it (whatever “it” may be at the moment).  

Now, given that our time here is finite, how would YOU rather live?  

For me personally, the role of wounded little bird just never fit very well.  

So, I adjust my allegorical nuts, don’t give cancer any power, and make sure I do everything I can to keep it an insignificant part of my life.

And life is GOOD!

 

Jake thinks so, too!