I’ve been out of control the past few months—driving, flying and riding trains. Taking care of shit and visiting folks. Having adventures. Tying up loose ends. And damned if it isn’t fabulous that I have the energy to do all this.
PF-06463922 has been my drug of choice (makes it sound a little bit sexier, no?) for more than seventeen months now and my cancer remains stable. That’s the longest I’ve ever gone on a therapy without progression and continued stability is my new mantra. The troubling side effects that I experienced initially have mostly disappeared although time management and memory remain a challenge and the neuropathy in my hands and feet is not going away. Some days I feel like I’m living with a very young child and someone who is elderly—they’re both me.
I am sharing my latest radiology report to lend some perspective. As I look so very healthy, (healthier than most healthy folks) it’s easy to forget that since the beginning of this journey (April of 2005), I have never been cancer free. That’s right—removal of my lower left lobe and four rounds of cisplatin and taxotere was not enough to push this crud out of my lungs. Since then I have always had a varying degree of cancer hanging around. At the moment, the situation is pretty good but this is what a good day looks like:
Lungs and Airways: Central airways are patent. A 1.9 x 2.8 cmlingular subpleural opacity and 5 mm subpleural right upper lobenodule (image 40) are unchanged from 10/7/2014. Several 3-4 mmpulmonary nodules are unchanged from 10/7/2014 and are found in theright upper lobe (image 29, 37, 46, 52) and left upper lobe (image45, 54). A 5 mm subpleural anterior right upper lobe ground glass nodule (image 48) is unchanged from 11/19/2014. Subpleural ground
glass nodule in the anterior right upper lobe measuring 6 mm (image
45) is unchanged from 10/7/2014. A 4 mm superior segment right lower
lobe groundglass nodule is unchanged from 1/19/2014 (image 43).
Additional left upper lobe groundglass nodules measuring up to 6 mm
(image 50) are unchanged from 10/7/2014.
If I was just being diagnosed we’d all freak out. As it stands, this is a great report.
My cancer and I have been sharing the same body for almost eleven (known) years now—that’s 1/5 of my lifetime. Wrap your head around that. During that time I have been to the edge of possibility and back again, a looping cycle of dying, hope, disappointment, loss, more hope and a whole lot of living mixed in.
It can be a real mind fuck.
The Boston Globe has a new online medical magazine called STAT. I was interviewed (print and video) for an article about the emotional roller coaster faced by terminal patients who are given the opportunity to try high risk experimental therapies. Clinical trials offer hope (our favorite word) but responses are not guaranteed and when they do occur, are of unknown duration. All that uncertainty can really mess with your head.