Posts Tagged ‘cancer treatment’

25
Jan
2016

4 Years Later

It feels like yesterday that I first heard the most powerful three little words, “You have cancer.” In reality, it was exactly 1,460 days ago. On this very day, four years ago, our lives changed forever. My husband and I have been reflecting over that moment and the years that have followed and we are blown away. Blown away that cancer is a part of our story now. Blown away that I’ve survived. Blown away that our marriage is stronger than ever. Blown away at the beautiful story that has emerged through the vast wreckage.

Four years and two days ago, on Monday, January 23rd 2012, I went in for my annual women’s wellness exam. I found a different OB/GYN in hopes that a new doctor would be able to answer all of my questions. I had been experiencing symptoms for a year and they were growing in severity. Over the course of those twelve months, I visited more doctors than I can count in an attempt to figure out what was wrong with my body. I had blood draws, pelvic exams, and ultrasounds, yet they all came back clear. There were many days that I would return home, a 25 year old newlywed, and cry to my husband that I thought I was going crazy. How could I not be when all of my doctors were telling me that I was okay? I knew something was wrong. I could feel it. I could sense it. And I had an urging that I simply could not ignore. That Monday, the answers to my questions began to be revealed through a generous doctor that was determined to help.

I laid on the examination table with my feet in the stirrups as my new doctor went through a normal exam and pap smear. Within minutes, she said, “Oh. Hmmm.” Typically, a response you don’t want to hear from a medical professional, I was relieved. After asking if she noticed something, she let me know that she could visibly see what she initially thought to be a fibroid on my cervix. Would this explain the bleeding, stomach pain, irregular menses, bloating, weight gain, unusual cramps, hair thinning, and more? While taking two biopsies from different areas of the mass, she said that fibroids could cause numerous symptoms and that this could be the answer. The exam was over and she stepped out of the room while I got dressed. I remember exactly what I wore that day. My doctor asked me to return in a week, the following Monday so she could give me the results from the colposcopies.

Four years and one day ago, on Tuesday, January 24th 2012 (the day after my exam), I received a call from my OB/GYN’s assistant. I didn’t recognize the number, so I allowed it to go to voicemail. The message on the other end raised more questions and I was left shaking and confused. “Hi Stephanie. The doctor received results from your biopsy and asks that you come in tomorrow on your lunch break so that she can discuss results. Also, please bring your husband so we can talk about treatment.” Click. I called my husband and shared the news. My doctor let me know during my exam that fibroids may need to be removed surgically. Maybe the treatment they were referring to would be surgery. Though I had never experienced surgery besides my wisdom teeth removal, I felt like I could handle it. Remove the fibroid and carry on with life. No big deal.

That night I shared my worst fear with my husband. “What if it’s cancer?” He promptly cut me off and said, “We don’t say that word until and unless that’s what it is.” I laid awake that night grappling with the multitude of scenarios the results may hold. Ectopic pregnancy? Though highly unlikely due to our paranoid contraceptive plan (condoms and birth control), maybe. Fibroid? Still likely. Cancer? I can’t get cancer. I don’t want to lose my hair. I’m only twenty-five. That doesn’t happen to young adults. Finally I fell asleep, and everything up unto my appointment became a blur.

Four years ago, and depending on what time zone you’re in while reading this, almost to the minute, Matt and I walked into my doctor’s office. I remember being extremely sensitive to everyone’s stares. It felt like the entire office knew the results and that we were the only ones walking through the fog of the unknown. I was nervous but ready. We didn’t have to sit in the lobby for more than one minute before we were ushered into a room. It might have been the exact room where I was two days prior, but I can’t remember. Strangely enough, that detail has slipped from my memory. We sat down. I can describe the room. A wall with a large window was behind us. An exam table in front and to the left. Cabinets and sink to the right. Though it felt like an eternity of waiting for my OB/GYN, she entered the room in probably less than five minutes. She was pregnant with answers. I could see it on her face, though she maintained a friendly and professional demeanor. She sat down on a rolling stool with my medical file in her lap. With a somber smile she shared, “Stephanie, we received the results from the colposcopy. I’m sorry to tell you that it’s cancer.”

I’ve heard several people share what that moment was like for them. Some fall to the floor overwhelmed by grief. Some quietly shed a few tears. Some instantly choose denial. I simply responded with, “Okay, now what do we do? What are the next steps?” She had already scheduled an appointment the following day with my gynecologic oncologist and sadly shared that I would need a hysterectomy and chemotherapy. More news flooded from her mouth as we soaked it all in. Soon she was quiet. I can’t imagine being in her position. Having to tell someone that they have cancer is unfathomable to me. What strength and kindness you must have, knowing that your patient will forever remember that moment. I stood up and asked if I could give her a hug. I caught her off guard with my response to the news. I didn’t cry. I simply wanted to hug her for she was the one, in a handful of others, who helped me find an answer. She saved my life that day. We embraced and I whispered in her ear, “You’re my angel. Thank you for helping me.”

Matt and I sat in the parking lot in our car that clear, beautiful, mild winter’s day in Colorado. We barely spoke. The quiet was comforting. Soft words escaped our lips as we sat in disbelief. “I can’t believe I have cancer.” I was thankful for an answer to the symptoms that had been plaguing me, but was fearful of what was to come. We held hands. We had no idea what our future looked like. We were overwhelmed at the intensity of our new situation. The only person that I knew who had cancer had died. I didn’t want that to be me. I was young, barely twenty-five. We hadn’t had children yet, and I was facing an irreversible decision… a hysterectomy. A monster had ripped through our perfectly canvassed life and threatened to take it all away.

To say that it has been an easy four years would be a blatantly disrespectful, untrue, and a highly exaggerated lie. These last four years have been, by far, the most difficult, challenging, and scary years of our lives. I was diagnosed with an extremely rare and aggressive cancer called large cell neuroendocrine carcinoma of the cervix and was given a less than 20% chance of surviving that first year. We’ve experienced a depth of heartache that many will never face. We’ve felt immense pain, walked through tidal waves of grief, and desperately fought for the light at the end of the tunnel. We’ve been kicked down and beaten up by this disease, yet have chosen to stand up and turn the other cheek. We’ve stared death in the eyes and proclaimed victory over my diagnosis. We’ve turned our eyes to the One who can offer peace, hope, and true help.

Looking back over the most intense season of our lives, I can say I am thankful. Though four years ago I was afraid, unsure, and defeated, four years later, I am fearless, certain, and victorious. It’s now four years later, and I’ve undergone four major surgeries, three recurrences, 55 chemotherapy treatments, 28 radiation sessions, and I’m ALIVE. Cancer has forever altered my life, yet only because I’ve found true joy in my suffering, am I grateful.

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Lamentations 3:22-23 (ESV)

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end: they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”

07
Aug
2015

Drug Therapy vs Chemotherapy

It’s been six months since I received my very last dose of chemotherapy. My hair is nearly to the length it was prior to diagnosis. My nausea has completely been alleviated. I’m no longer on steroids that caused terrible bloating and weight gain. And although I’m not experiencing side effects from chemo, some still remain. I look healthy and for the most part feel healthy, yet I continue to battle side effects. I’ve traded chemo for the alternative and less intrusive, drug therapy.

While a quick Google search will answer your questions regarding the meaning of drug therapy, I’ll try to put it in easy terms. Chemotherapy is the use of chemicals to treat malignancies. Drug therapy is the use of medicine to treat disease. Because I have reached one year cancer free, my doctors have prescribed that I maintain my health by receiving intravenous medicine once every three weeks due to my history with recurrences. The type of drug that I’m on is an angiogenesis inhibitor and works to inhibit the growth of new blood vessels. The goal is that if any malignant cells were to form, they would have no blood supply to grow. Medicine amazes me. To every doctor, nurse, technician, and researcher, thank you. You’re the ones that stand beside us and fight with and for us.

The administration of drug therapy is no different than chemotherapy. At least not for me. I receive treatment at my usual infusion center in the hospital. I sit in my preferred chair with my lovely nurses in attendance. My port is accessed identically as in treatments prior. Unlike chemo, however, drug therapy requires less time. Some chemo treatments lasted up to eight hours for me, while this therapy only lasts about two hours. It’s a fairly quick process, and doesn’t eat up most of my day.

As with any treatment, there are possible side effects. In fact, before I was cleared to receive this drug, I signed a form that lists in detail what could potentially happen. Every side effect form that I sign off on reminds me of pharmaceutical commercials. You know the ones. “Taking [generic drug] will greatly improve your [generic ailment].” These productions are set in rolling fields full of beautiful flowers in which the paid actors are frolicking through, holding hands and smiling without a care in the world. At the very end of the commercial, an auctioneer voice quickly rattles off every possible side effect. “Heart attack, stomach ulcers, and certain types of cancers have been linked to this product.” Oh, and your arms could probably fall off from it, too. Similar to these hilarious pharmaceutical commercials, the side effects of the prescription drug I’m receiving now can be alarming. Heart attack, bowel perforation, and stroke are on the top of the list.

Many have asked how I’m feeling. The truth is, I feel great. I do suffer side effects from this angiogenesis inhibitor, but I’ll gladly take them. They pale in comparison to what I experienced while on chemotherapy, but still have an impact on my daily life. Thankfully, my blood pressure and blood counts remain at normal levels. Because of my age and health, my doctors assure me that heart attack, bowel perforation, and stroke would be rare. As long as I keep a close eye on symptoms and listen to my body, I should be in the clear.

I’ve had eight cycles of drug therapy, and the side effects have joined the party. Who knew that we all have a layer of protection on our tongues? I didn’t until it was gone. Anything too hot or textured and the slightest amount of spice feels like acid and knives in my mouth. It’s unfortunate that I love spicy food. Things that didn’t affect me before really do now. Take watermelon for example. In the summer, I obsess over watermelon. I don’t let my sensitive tongue get in the way, but now I have to eat it gingerly. Typical toothpaste feels like fire, so I use Biotene (which is sent from the Heavens, I’m convinced). In addition to my tongue troubles, my hands and feet are increasingly more sensitive. Remember when I had Hand and Foot Syndrome? This time around my skin hasn’t entirely fallen off, but my palms and soles consistently hurt. My feet more so than my hands, and that probably has to do with me being on them most of the time.

The fact is, I’m lucky to be alive. I’ve survived cancer four times. I’m alive and healthy. I’m able to participate in my life more than I have in the last few years. My troubles now are spilt milk. These side effects ain’t nothin’.

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1 Thessalonians 5:18 (ESV)

“Give thanks in all circumstances.”

 

18
Jun
2015

Keys of Hope: Free Hotel Rooms For Cancer Patients

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Every day, thousands of people are sitting in hospitals and cancer centers receiving treatment for their disease. Thousands of them are in treatment facilities away from home. Some are staying with friends or family while they undergo life-saving medical therapies. Some patients are paying out of pocket to temporarily live in hotels. Some are fortunate enough to have made it through the waiting list and are able to stay in short-term lodges specifically designed for families fighting cancer. However, there are thousands of people who are unable to receive treatment that could either save their life or give them the best quality of life because the treatment is simply out of reach.

If you were diagnosed with cancer today and told that the only facility that would offer the treatment you needed was across the country in a place where you have zero connections and know no one, what would you do? You may immediately answer, “Well I’d go anywhere to save my life.” But keep in mind that your wallet is going to be substantially thinner because of the cost of the surgeries and treatments you will need. You may be left with no money by the time you can receive that life-saving therapy. You’ll probably still be paying your current rent or mortgage and monthly bills unless you choose to move to this faraway city. You will have probably lost or had to quit your job because your place of work doesn’t offer extended paid sick leave. Your choices may be whittled down to nothing. Most likely you won’t be able to afford airfare, living expenses, and the cost of a place to stay on top of the cost of your medical care.

Unfortunately this scenario is not pretend, nor imaginary or made up. It happens every single day in America. Patients are faced with the difficult choice of having to forfeit the opportunity for the best treatment because they simply cannot afford the cost of living away from home. This is a hurdle in the cancer community that is all too common. Hundreds of people are dying because the fear of financial ruin is overwhelming, preventing patients from receiving treatment that could save their lives.

Recently, a program was birthed out of a unique partnership between a corporation and a non-profit organization to help people facing the realities of receiving treatment away from home. Extended Stay America has joined the American Cancer Society to offer financial relief to patients seeking accommodations near their treatment center. Together, they have joined those of us facing cancer in defeating the hurdles that come with fighting the disease. Through the Keys of Hope program, Extended Stay America has donated over 45,000 hotel rooms to patients in need. Over the course of two years, more than 6,700 patients and their families have saved nearly $1.2 million in costs associated with traveling for necessary cancer treatments. Extended Stay America and the American Cancer Society are rallying beside us to make a change. To let us know that we are not alone. Through these room donations, lives are being saved.

A hotel is not the same as home. Extended Stay America understands that and has therefore modeled their rooms around the comforts and conveniences of our own homes. When you benefit from the Keys of Hope program, you won’t be staying in a cold, confining space. You won’t be receiving the rooms that other guests chose not to book. With the Keys of Hope program, you will be staying in a hotel room that feels more like an apartment. ESA provides an environment that welcomes relaxation and relief for your recovery through cancer treatment. Some of the comforts include on-site laundry centers, kitchens in each hotel room for you to store and cook the food you enjoy, and free wi-fi access in order for you to stay connected to your loved ones. In addition, as you head out each morning for your doctor’s appointments, Grab-and-Go Breakfasts ensure a quick and healthy way to start your day. Your pets are welcome too. If you’re like me, my dogs help comfort me when I suffer from nausea, fatigue, and stress from treatment. Extended Stay America even provides pet-friendly accommodations so that you can have the same comfort as well.

Though I have not yet needed help from Keys of Hope, I personally know several survivors who have been deeply impacted by the benefits of this program. With over 680 hotels across the country, there is usually a property near every cancer center in the United States. The partnership between this corporation and non-profit organization is providing real, practical help to those of us facing a cancer diagnosis. Please know that you are not out of options. If you or a loved one is desperately seeking accommodations near a treatment center away from home, Keys of Hope can help. There are no hoops to jump through and no specific criteria needed to take advantage. Simply contact the American Cancer Society booking hotline and ask about Extended Stay America rooms via the Keys of Hope program.

As Tom Seddon, chief marketing officer at ESA shared, “…This is more than a donation, it is about providing families impacted by cancer peace of mind while they travel away from home to seek treatment. The true value of Keys of Hope is in the people it impacts directly.”

AmyRobachCancerSurvivors

Hebrews 13:2 (ESV)

“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”

 

15
Aug
2014

Don’t Worry, I’m a Professional

Being a professional is a good thing, right?

I’m no longer a novice, and am far beyond proficient. I’m now an expert at chemotherapy. This upcoming season of treatment will be my fourth go around, after all. In fact, pretty soon I’ll be over the hill with above 50 chemo treatments under my belt. I’m choosing to see this as a positive. I’ve got this chemo happy hour pretty well figured out. Not much can be put past me. Nausea, hair loss, exhaustion, pain, soreness, and aching? No biggie. I’m a pro.

Truth be told, I’m not nervous for my next round of treatment. It could be that I’ve done this for nearly three years and it’s become somewhat of a new “normal” to me or that I have complete peace in my journey knowing that God is sovereign over every detail. Upon learning that I would have to endure more chemotherapy as a result of my latest recurrence, many have asked if I am scared or nervous for this next season. I’m neither. At least, not yet.

I better not be. Happy hour starts next week.

Over these last few days, I’ve had several preparatory conversations with my doctors and nurses in both Houston and Denver. We’re all on the same page, and that in itself is comforting. Our plan goes into effect soon—I will be choosing a recliner in the infusion center next week, and will be ingesting my chemo cocktails in no time.

Each season of treatment is unlike the last, therefore, I’ll be receiving a different type of chemotherapy this time around. Though a self-proclaimed expert in all things chemo, I am still unaware of how this specific prescription will affect me. As a patient, we are given the rundown of possible side effects. Everything from low white blood cells and platelets to extreme tiredness. These are things I should expect with this type of chemo. I may or may not lose my hair… We’re praying for the latter, but won’t be too distraught with the former, however, I do love my curls! Though I won’t know how I’ll react until I receive treatment, I will generally feel as I have felt on chemo these past few years. Gross, tired, and sore.

Side effects may be similar, but the actual regimen called for this time is different than my past experiences. I will be receiving chemo once a week for three weeks in a row, with one week off. I will be doing this six times. Essentially, I will only have one week a month for the next six months where I won’t be getting treatment. It sure does seem like a lot. That equals 18 more sessions, but who’s counting? Yikes.

I’m ready for it. Ready to drive to the hospital every week. Ready to flood my body with copious amounts of poisonous toxins. Ready to feel like crap on a daily basis. Ready to fight. Ready. It’s amazing what you’ll do to try and stay alive.

As always, we will need abundant prayer, support, and encouragement. Remember 10 Ways to Help Someone With Cancer? The tips I provided last year are still very applicable to this journey ahead. We will be needing meals for when I’m feeling too tired, weak, or sick…Though Matt can cook a nice grilled cheese sandwich, his expertise does not reside in the kitchen. He does, however, drive to get take-out far better than anyone I’ve seen before. Gift cards to restaurants help as well. We will need endless support and encouragement, and please keep in mind I am not the only one going through this. My husband is the rock behind the scenes; my guardian standing firmly by my side. He needs as much encouragement as I do. We will also need understanding and grace, as our schedules will firmly revolve around how I am feeling each day. With what you’ve shown us in these last few years, we know you will rally beside us just as strong this time. Thank you for that.

Chemotherapy isn’t fun. It’s not something that I would choose to do had it not been crucial to my recovery. Going through yet another season of treatment doesn’t produce butterflies and rainbows. Instead, it’s brutal and exhausting. Chemo sucks. I love it and I hate it. No matter though, I’m a professional. I’ve got the port to prove it.

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Isaiah 41:10 (ESV)

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

Photo: Kimberly Mitiska Photography