My Rollercoaster Update

The week kind of got away from me, so it is now Sunday evening, and we are preparing for a new week at the Gibson household. Before I get too far behind, I wanted to write about my appointment last Wednesday with Dr. P, the oncologist. I also had my fifth chemo treatment on that day, and they started me on a different drug, Taxotere. It is my understanding the drugs I received during the first four rounds were supposed to attack the DNA of cancer cells. I believe Taxotere attacks the structure of the cancer cells. The two different sets of drugs, in conjunction with eachother, are supposed to produce a greater response than either used alone.

I ended up going alone because I didn't know until Tuesday afternoon that I would even be getting a treatment, and by then, I didn't try to get a sitter for the kids. My Dad is still in Canada leading a group of teachers and students on an unforgettable trip through Nova Scotia, so he hasn't been available for babysitting for a couple weeks. I am sure any of our friends would have been happy to do it, but at this point, it isn't a big deal to go solo. I know what to expect, and the staff keeps me company. I read a book one of the nurses wanted me to read entitled, "Not Today, I am Having a No Hair Day." It was written by a woman who had breast cancer. Like me, she also found out on her son's birthday that she had breast cancer. The book was amusing and reinforced the importance of keeping a sense of humor. She wrote it because at the time of her diagnosis, there weren't any humorous books about cancer. I doubt there are too many more now, but I haven't looked. It obviously isn't a funny topic, but I can tell you from personal experience, there are plenty of opportunities to laugh about it if you choose to.

Dr. P probably spent 45 minutes with me. We discussed the latest research. I had printed some articles off for her, and she had printed some studies off for me. She told me that she had reached out to three research institutions, including Duke and MCV, upon hearing my MRI results last week in order to discuss my case with colleagues who specialize in breast cancer. (She actually spoke to the surgeon whom I will be seeing for a second opinion on Tuesday.) I really appreciated her reaching out to others because it just reaffirms for me that she is truly advocating for me getting the best treatment.

After consulting with them, she said she was okay holding off on surgery as long as the tumor didn't increase size. She said that the fact I experienced no decrease in size means the disease is considered stable. She believes my tumor will be very responsive to hormone treatment (tamoxifen), and for that reason, she is anxious to get me started on that. Hormone treatment can't begin until after chemo and following surgery. Overall, she was encouraging, even though the tumor hadn't responded as we hoped, and I felt better after speaking with her.

Then, she did the physical exam. When she felt the tumor, her eyes got wide, and she looked at me. She said, "The tumor is definitely responding. It is responding!" I was so happy to hear her say that because for the first time ever, I really thought that the tumor did actually feel smaller this week. Then I started doubting myself because I just had the MRI one week ago, and it showed no change. Could it really shrink in a week? Apparently so. Her theories: We didn't give the dose dense chemo (every two weeks as opposed to the more traditional every three weeks) time to show a response. And/or since my periods have stopped because of the chemo, the tumor is no longer getting its needed food supply of estrogen. Who cares why or how? I am just thrilled that I am not imagining things. Chemo brain, I can handle. Delusions are another matter.

Dr. P literally skipped down the hallway, announcing, "It's responding! It's responding!" I was excited because 1) she really cares about what happens to me and 2) it is obviously a very good thing that it is shrinking or she wouldn't have been that enthusiastic about it.

Since then, the tumor continues to feel like it is shrinking. The location actually throbs almost continuously, so I can't help but think the Taxotere is doing quite a number on the tumor. I am going for an ultrasound on Tuesday, and another one at the end of the month to track the size. (MRIs are too expensive and cannot be ordered frequently because the insurance companies won't keep reimbursing for them.)

I have now had five of the eight rounds of chemo which means I am over half way done. Woo hoo!!!! The taxotere treatments are spaced three weeks apart which will bring me to the end of September. As has been the case with the preceding treatments, I am feeling great. My finernails feel very sensitive though...

Gloria, the oncology nurse, before she understood my personal theory on side effects, or because she felt obligated to inform me anyway, managed to blurt out before I could silence her that Taxotere can actually cause the nails to separate from the beds in some people. Ouch!!!! Ever since, I have been engaged in an active discussion with my subconscious that my nails are just fine. In fact, I took my mother-in-law to a day spa yesterday and treated us both to a manicure and a pedicure for her birthday. Now if spending over $60.00 on my nails is not communicating a clear message to my nails that I intend for them to stay firmly on their beds, I am not sure what it is.

I have also noticed increased sensitivity to hot water when doing the dishes. My mouth is not quite as tolerant of the hot salsas I can usually handle with ease. There are other little things like that going on that just feel a little different or strange, but certainly nothing that I can't handle. Because taxotere has fewer serious side effects, I no longer need the shot of Neulasta to promote white blood cell growth. I also don't have to take as much anti-nausea medicine. While I am obviously taking advantage of all of the medical treatments available to cure my cancer, I prefer to minimize the number of drugs I have to take. One of the most frustrating parts of this experience has been trying to get help with developing a holistic approach to the healing process. More on that another day. The rest of the house is asleep, and I am going to join them.