Tag Archives: ALK positive lung cancer

Christian Nataline.

‘Energy like you has no beginning and no end. It can never be destroyed. It is only ever shifting states.’

My dear, dear boy. Nobody ever fought as hard as you did. Superhuman, that. You wanted very badly to stay and honestly, we all thought you would.

Eight years of friendship but so much more. From the moment we met that connection was there. With a twenty year difference in age, I was old enough to be your mom and in many ways you felt like one of my children. As we each moved from trial to trial, I was Batman and you were Robin. I talked you off the wall more than once and you did the same for me. For eight years we never went more than a few weeks without being in touch and once you moved to Florida, we would spend hours on the phone.

We were astronauts who had gone to strange places others could only imagine. But you—you went further than fathomable. Beyond fear, beyond pain, beyond suffering. It was both terrible and beautiful to witness—your hungry love of life and what you were willing to endure in order to hang onto it.

And a wonderful life it was. Karen, Christina and Ellie. Your three gorgeous girls.

I was on my way to see you when I learned that you had passed. Fortunately the woman on the bus had a big bag of tissues. When we got to Logan I ended up messy crying on the floor of the Jet Blue terminal. Made a scene, I did. A blubbery, righteous, raw demonstration of unbridled grief.

You are no longer suffering and those who love you will love you always. These are the two things I hold onto but man, I gotta tell you. I am gutted.

However. We both embraced those battle metaphors because we knew what it was like to be on the front lines. You—I heard that just last week you were asking about chemo. Christian Nataline, you raised the bar.

Just know this. I will never, ever stop fighting. And I will keep my eye on your beautiful family.

Rest now.

Love, Linnea

 

*Panache Desai

So this is pretty fabulous

I want to share something wonderful with you. As a member of the ALKPositive group, I offered to start an Instagram page where photos and stories of ALK+ patients could be shared. I knew it would be special but I had no idea how special. Nor did I realize how moved I would feel as I transcribed these individual stories of suffering but also formidable grace and courage. So many beautiful faces. Almost all of them stage IV. Far too many of them young, including a number of women who were diagnosed either while pregnant or just after giving birth.

But what shines through the most? Love. Lots and lots of love. Please go to Instagram and check it out at alkpositiveworldwide. Follow us. If you are ALK+ (or if you have lost someone who was–this is intended to function as a memorial as well) and you’d like to be part of the wall, submit a photo to me as well the following information: Date of diagnosis, stage and age. And a brief statement about living with ALK+ lung cancer.

This is our opportunity to show the world the faces of lung cancer. Brave, beautiful, loving, living, finding ways to cope and always, always hoping.

A bit too close to the edge

I get my feet wet

I was discharged Sunday. Six pounds lighter and pretty darn worn out after my adventure, but happy to be home. I am back on the antibiotic levaquin, my persistent cough is finally abating and David has made the feeding and fattening of Linnea his pet project.

On Tuesday I returned to Boston for labs, a CT scan and to meet with Dr. Shaw. My ALT/AST are continuing to come down, but are still elevated. The LDK 378 will be held for another week and I will have labs on Friday and again on Monday to make sure the downward trend continues. Although I don’t have the radiologist’s report yet, Dr. Shaw reviewed the scans and feels that the activity in my lungs is at the very least stable, and at the very best, maybe even slightly improved.

All of the tests for outside causes have been coming back negative, as anticipated. When I said I was being test for Hepatitis, I should have specified viral Hepatitis. I have learned that hepatitis is a generic term for liver injury and inflammation. Drug induced hepatotoxicity (pronounced (hep′ă-tō-tok-sis′i-tē), and referring to the capacity of a drug or other agent to induce liver injury) is also referred to by the acronym DILI or drug induced liver injury. It is relatively uncommon, “DILI in the case of any single drug is thought to occur approximately in one per 10 000–100 000 treated patients.”  (from Pub Med Central). However, I wonder if that statistic is pertinent to clinical trials. Phase I of a trial, such as the one I am enrolled in, is to determine at what level a drug can safely be administered, and to do so through dose escalation. Although my ALT/AST were significantly elevated, the fact that my liver function was never compromised is an important distinction, not just for me but for the the trial itself. Severe DILI is defined as liver failure or death, two bullets I obviously dodged. However, it would seem that the careful monitoring I received was not misplaced, as evidenced by this article in Medscape about drug induced hepatitis.

Although I would like to go back on trial as soon as possible, I have some trepidation as well. There is the possibility that when the LDK 378 is reintroduced, the scenario may be repeated. Of course, the only way to find out is to try, and I assume I would be monitored even more closely at rechallenge (the opposite of dechallenge, or holding of the drug).  The FDA has published a Guideline For Industry that specifically addresses the issues surrounding DILI in a clinical trial setting, should you be interested in the specifics.

In the big picture, it is not so very important, but I’m sad to say that my drinking days might be over; I can’t even look at a glass of wine anymore. And I had such a talent for (the wine tasting) and sublime appreciation of. Oh well. I actually awakened in a bit of a cold sweat last night because I dreamt I’d had a cocktail.

So, in conclusion, I came out on the good end of a bad week. I am both highly encouraged and deeply anxious about where we go from here. And I will keep you posted.