Commanding Your Life

On Sunday I had a life highlight experience. We had a blessing dinner to mark the start of this new stage in fighting the C. With the start of treatment, it seemed like a new day was dawning. We are no longer in a “wait and see” mode. Action is needed. OK, I can do that. But let’s mark it with something that sends me forth. A commencement of sorts.

Bff Kate, put together a blessing dinner with la familia: Sarah, Steve, Godson Ben, Pete, and Fr. Michael Sweeny, our priest pal who’s been with us through it all. It was a very family evening with Guthrie/Hayes/Shields - the triumvirate that gives new meaning to the words extended family. We’ve known each other forever, and our families are intertwined in ways that can only be punctuated with, Catholic Mafia. Our connections run deep, and there is no getting out, not that any of us want to.

After a wonderful evening of laughs, drink, food in the embrace of friendship, we adjourned to the living room for a real blessing: The Anointing of the Sick. Michael is fabulously present, a word he talks about often, and lives everyday. He’s is nothing if not present to another. He ever so thoroughly went through the Rite, which I will relay in parts as there was much to ponder.

He spent time talking about commanding. One part of the anointing is for forgiveness, the other for priestly (action?). In the latter, one is to command her life with authority, like a priest has authority in the Church. When asked to expand on this, he explained that there is the part of life that happens - the rain, for example. It just happens and we deal with it. The rest is for our command. Our life is ours to command, and we can take it where we will. Wow. It reminded me of when I was on the eve of being diagnosed with C and Eleanor asked me what I would do differently, given worst case scenario. As I am happy to recall, I said I would do nothing different. It was an affirmation of my life, the blessing in the daily living, and it was an acknowledgment of commanding my life. I really love this notion. And at the same time it’s daunting. We are the boss of ourselves. Dammit.

In what ways am I commanding my life? And where can I take more authority in the command my life?

Cease Fire

Day six into the war to end all wars on the C in my lungs, and we have to call a cease fire. It appears that the black belt drug, in its eager, and oh so noble attempt to help me get rid of the buggers on my lungs, has gotten my heart all excited. So excited that my blood pressure jumped way high. How high? You don't want to know. No seriously, you don't want to know. Suffice it to say, Major General Illiff, Joint Chief of Staff (my internist, for you lay people out there), urged me to stop with the chemical warfareuntil the blood pressure is in check. To do this we have other chemicals to introduce: a third bp med, and doubling my a.m. dose of bp med that I take now. We will reconvene on Monday to reassess the battle strategy and determine if the landscape can manage it.

Am I bummed? Oh yes, but I am grateful that my intuition kicked in at the right time and I thought to get my bp checked. Had I not - potential for major collateral damage of unknown proportions. Bummed to the nth degree and stressed about it. I know, wrong direction.

Stay tuned. I will have a battle plan on Monday, or thereabouts. In the meantime, I'm going to channel bff ZC, and be relaxed.

Black Belt Drug

The key to successful chemical warfare is to determine the appropriate mixture of toxins that will target, isolate and annihilate the intended enemy. There is a reason it is not sanctioned by just about any country that wishes to have allies in this world. It’s nasty, the most underhanded of the underhanded - the ultimate fighting dirty. Below the belt taken to another level.

But we aren’t trying to make friends here. We need no allies in fighting the Voldermort of all illnesses. All bets are off, and whatever it takes to defeat it and save ourselves we will do. A little GI problem? Deal. Nausea? We can handle that. Rash? We have something for that, too.

The arsenal is this: sorafanib, a multikinase inhibitor that has a black belt in attacking the protein that tells a cell to regenerate. Anna, the scientist, put it well:”Tyrosine kinase is a protein on the cell wall that triggers a cascade of reactions that cause a cell to proliferate. If it gets inhibited, then it cannot tell the cell to reproduce anymore, which takes away the immortal aspect of the cancer cell. They are temperature sensitive to heat, that why (I am) advised to take lukewarm showers and avoid the sun. Excessive heat will denature the inhibitors in the drug, which would allow the cancer to spread.”

This black belt ninja (am I mixing cultures? can one BE a black belt ninja?) is now set loose in me to do what it does best - choke the very air of life of the C cells. Prepare to die!

I'm Baaaack!

It’s been way too long between entries, so I need dust off the cobwebs of this blog and freshen up the living room of my thoughts on the cancer journey. Stay tuned. I am inspired to reflect outward on my trek, the blessings and the pains, and the pain of the blessings.

Many miles, much water between then and now.

In short, while the C has been held at bay for a long time, it has gotten to the point of wanting attention. Apparently many of the little nodules/spots/tumors that are itty bitty have joined forces in my lower right lung. It’s always dangerous when countries join together in alliance. Bullying ensues, and it gets ugly. Same here. It caught the attention of my oncologist (more on HER later), and with all the force of the U.N., but more of the authority, we are engaging in chemical warfare and it’s name is Nexavar. A mere six days into the battle, and we are still just doing a show of force, giving it a taste of what Hell will reign down on it in the coming days. As with all wars, the battlefied shows collateral damage. We don’t know yet what that will be. So far, so good.