Health

We’re winking again!

/ edebock / 3 Comments

It’s hard to believe that it’s already been a year since my daughter and I put on our blue eyeshadow and participated in Wink Day 2015, but here it is again and as it turns out, I’m at her house again.

What is Wink Day, you ask? It’s a day set aside by the Canadian beauty industry, through it’s charitable foundation, Beauty Gives Back, in support of women going through the social and emotional challenges of the Cancer Blues. Women across Canada are  encouraged to post pictures and videos of themselves wearing blue eyeshadow (with the hashtag #winkday) as a way of raising awareness of the Cancer Blues. The Cancer Blues is a term, coined by Beauty Gives Back, to describe the emotional distress caused by cancer and its treatment, an often ignored consequence of the disease that can seriously affect a person’s ability to fight and thrive through the ordeal.

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My daughter looks great in blue eyeshadow, but me, not so much! “It ages you,” she told me as we applied our make-up and I think she’s right. For Wink Day, however, I’ll put vanity aside.

For over 20 years, Beauty Gives Back has supported tens of thousands of Canadian women through the Cancer Blues with programs such as Look Good Feel Better and FacingCancer.ca. Look Good Feel Better workshops are free of charge to all women with cancer and are designed to help them feel better about themselves and thus face their illness with greater confidence. Over 1800 volunteer cosmetic advisers and hair alternative specialists give generously of their time to bring the two hour seminars to cancer care centres across the country. I was so impressed with my own Look Good Feel Better experience that I’m now a spokesperson for the program helping promote the twice a year fundraising galas put on by Shopper’s Drug Mart, one of the program’s biggest sponsors.

Though I’ve been diagnosed with two completely unrelated cancers over the past three years, one of which is incurable, I must admit that I haven’t experienced the degree of mental distress that many victims of the Cancer Blues do. I attribute this to my faith, my wonderfully supportive family and friends, a great cancer care team and the fact that, so far, my treatment has been successful. My disease is stable and I’m able to live a reasonably normal life. I do, however, love those occasions when I’m someplace where no one knows that I’m the woman with cancer; moments when I can almost forget about it myself.

On days like Wink Day, however, I’m eager to do my part to raise awareness even if it means looking totally silly! It’s not too late to join the fun. Simply post a picture or a video  of yourself wearing blue eyeshadow on social media anytime before the end of June (with the hashtag #winkday) or visit winkday.ca to find out how else you can help.

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I’m a survivor!

/ edebock / 4 Comments

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Today is National Cancer Survivors Day, a day set aside to celebrate the more than 32 million people around the world who have battled the disease and to raise awareness of the challenges that many of them face.

So what is a survivor? To many, the term ‘cancer survivor’ suggests a person who has beaten their cancer; perhaps one who has been cancer free for several years, but I like the definition used by the National Cancer Survivors Day Foundation. “A ‘survivor’ is anyone living with a history of cancer – from the moment of diagnosis through the remainder of life.”

In other words, I am a survivor!

I live with cancer every day. Unless a cure is found for neuroendocrine cancer (NETS) within my lifetime or God performs a miracle on my behalf, I will never be cancer free. People have a hard time grasping the idea of a chronic cancer. The usual assumption is that patients either die of their disease or they are cured, thereby becoming cancer survivors, but I look at my situation differently. I may die of my cancer or I may die with it, but either way, I am a survivor! Fortunately my disease is stable at this point and it doesn’t significantly impact my day to day life. A schedule of monthly injections and biannual treatments restricts my previous worldwide wanderings a bit, but I recognize that every day is a gift.

I’m also a cancer survivor in the more tradition sense, as in one who had the disease, but is now free of it. As many of you know, seven months after my NETS diagnosis, I was diagnosed with a second, completely unrelated cancer that was removed surgically. Six weeks of radiation followed and, since that time, there has been no recurrence. That possibility still exists, of course, but in the meantime I will continue to live life to the fullest.

I am, after all, a survivor!

As good as my last scan

/ edebock / 13 Comments

Fellow NET cancer patient and blogger, Ronny Allen, published a post awhile back entitled, “I’m only as good as my last scan.” That sentiment definitely resonated with me as I never know what to say when people ask me how I’m doing. For the past while, I’ve been feeling absolutely great, 100% even, but unless I’ve had a recent scan, I really have no idea how I’m doing on the inside. That’s why I was actually looking forward to this week’s treatment and it’s follow-up scans, the first look at my cancer in 6 months.

Today, let me walk you through what this two day process looks like. On Tuesday morning at 9:30 a.m. Richard and I sat down with Dr. Sandy McEwan, scientist and doctor extraordinaire and head of my cancer care team. I told him how great I’ve been feeling, he told me how great I look, and I signed consent for the treatment procedure. He also shared some of the recent findings of the clinical trial that I’m part of including the exciting news of one patient who has been surgically proven to be tumour free!

Next, we were off to the volunteer run Sunroom Cafe to kill time over a cup of tea while we waited for the next step which was having my IV inserted at 11:00. Shortly after that, we headed up to the third floor to check into my private room in the nuclear medicine corner of the inpatient ward. In preparation for the treatment itself, I was given an anti nausea pill and a saline drip was started. Then I sat back and relaxed until the arrival of the radioactive Lutetium-Octreotate, which had just been flown in from the Netherlands where it is produced. At that point, Richard had to leave and I continued to relax  while it flowed through my veins seeking out and attaching itself to my tumours. Because I’m part of a clinical trial, there is lots of monitoring to be done, so Michelle, who administers the treatment, was in and out of my room over the next hour or so constantly checking my vital signs. My blood pressure remained good and she was astonished by my slow, steady heart rate. Obviously, I wasn’t experiencing any stress. Why should I? After all, this was my sixth treatment and I’m an old hand at this now!

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Once the Lutetium was in and the lines were flushed, the IV was removed. If I lived in the city, I’d have been free to go home, but since I live a couple of hours away and had to be back for my scan by 8 o’clock the next morning, I stayed the night. Richard came back to visit bringing me a Subway sandwich as my one and only complaint about the Cross Cancer Institute is the food. It’s so bad that even the staff apologizes for it! Dr. McEwan dropped in to see how the treatment had gone and then I settled in for a quiet evening. I spent awhile visiting and exchanging stories with the patient in the room next to mine, a retired farmer from northern Saskatchewan. At the Cross, Lutetium is administered to three patients at a time.

I slept well and was up bright and early to head back downstairs for my scans. After spending the night at our son’s place, Richard met me there. For the full body scan, I had to lay perfectly still on my back with a pillow beneath my head and another under my knees. Covered by a warmed blanket, I was quite comfortable as my body slowly moved beneath the enormous camera just a few inches above me. Dr. McEwan had planned on having a second, 3D scan done as well, but that machine was down. The technicians were working on it and if he’d felt it was necessary, we’d have waited around until it was up and running again. He was certain, however, that the first scan showed all that we needed to know. My cancer is stable! The tumours haven’t grown and there aren’t any new ones. There’s also no sign of recurrence of my second, unrelated cancer. While it would have been nice to hear that the tumours were continuing to shrink or that, as in the case of the woman mentioned above, they had disappeared completely, that is most unusual and no change is also good news.

I hope Ronny doesn’t mind me borrowing his title, but he is right. I’m only as good as my last scan and right now, that’s very good!

Naming Lavita

/ edebock / 3 Comments

Perhaps it’s just an extension of my love of words, but I find the meaning and origin of names fascinating. Long before we had our first child, Richard and I had two boys names picked out, Matthew and Nathan. Interestingly, they both mean “gift of God” and since God blessed us with two sons, we were able to use them both. We had a much harder time choosing names for our daughters. I’ve always been partial to girl’s names that end in A and, after much deliberation, we settled on Janina for our first daughter. A derivative of Jane, it too means “gift of God”! Though the spelling of our second daughter’s name is very similar to mine, Elaine means “light” and Melaina means “dark”! Like our other three, however, she is also a “gift of God” and that’s the meaning of her middle name, Jean!

In addition to naming our children, I’ve helped name a few pets along the way, but I never thought that I’d name a gastrostomy tube; a tube inserted through a patient’s abdomen to deliver nutrition directly to her stomach! Over the past few months, I’ve made contact with two other bloggers who are also neuroendocrine cancer patients and one of them, Lizbeth, recently wrote a post asking readers to help her choose a name for the tube that provides her with vital nutrition. She was tired of simply referring to it as “tube”.

I immediately began to search for girls names that meant “giver of life”, but I didn’t find one that I liked, so I changed my search slightly and began to look for names that simply meant “life”. I quickly came up with three of them and they even ended in A; Olivia, Livia and Lavita. I sent them off to Lizbeth and waited to see what would happen. Here’s what her next blog post said:

A fellow blogger, Elaine, has gave me a name that I’m rather struck on.  The name Elaine has suggested means life.  Rather apt.  For me the tube gives me a better quality of life…  It provides me with my essential nutrients and vitamins – my daily steak and chips or fresh fruit salad if you get my meaning.  For many people with a tube it is an essential lifeline and the only source of nourishment.  

The name I have chosen is Lavita.

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Tote-ally awesome!

/ edebock / 11 Comments

When I read “Crashing the Cancer Club“, Jenny Charlesworth’s story of surviving cervical cancer, in the March 2015 issue of Chatelaine magazine, I immediately responded with a letter to the editor via email. I’d completely forgotten about that until I flipped open the May issue and saw my letter in print! A bright pink tag announced that it was “This Month’s Winner”!

I vaguely remembered seeing a tiny note at the bottom corner of previous Letters pages announcing the chance to win a prize for writing a winning letter, but I didn’t give it much thought. I was just happy to see my letter in print! Sometime later, I looked back at the March issue and saw that the prize that was being offered was a blender. I already had a perfectly good blender and no real need for another one, so I wasn’t even concerned about the fact that I hadn’t included my mailing address with my letter.

Almost exactly a month ago, in the middle of June, I received a surprise email from Dominique at Chatelaine telling me that I’d won a leather tote from The Sak and asking for my address and phone number!

Leather tote or blender? Which would I rather have? I looked up The Sak website and checked out the many tote bags on offer. I love my blender, especially the fruit smoothies that I often make in it, but it was no contest. There were lots of bags that I could visualize myself carrying and I began to wonder which one would soon be mine!

Today, it arrived by courier… the Palisades soft leather tote in the shitake tassel design. I love it’s casual, slightly bohemian look. With it’s spacious fully lined interior, zippered inside pocket and magnetic closure, it has plenty of room for essentials like my wallet, cell phone, sunscreen and camera. In fact, I have a feeling that it’s going to be an ideal travel companion! I wonder where we’ll go together?

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Born To Be Wild

/ edebock / 5 Comments

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I saw the painting Born To Be Wild by Norwegian artist, Sylvia Sotuyo, for the first time the day before yesterday on the NET Cancer Day Facebook page and it immediately spoke to me in a way that art seldom does. I looked at it over and over again, each time asking myself what it is about that figure that inspires me so. I even posted it as my Facebook profile picture. Why? Because I see it as a picture of me! I may not look like this to you and it isn’t what I see in the mirror, but I know it’s me!

I contacted the artist and she graciously gave me permission to share her painting here and to try to explain what it means to me, but first, let me share her description of it:

The dynamic human tree represents the strength and stamina of the tree, combined with the power and intelligence of the human being. The human tree stands proudly, well grounded to earth, and reaches towards the sky to achieve all it`s hopes and dreams…

I, too, see it as a symbol of strength and hope, but I see other things that the artist may not have had in mind. First of all, the zebra is the symbol of neuroendocrine tumours (NETS), the incurable cancer that I was diagnosed with almost two years ago. Neuroendocrine tumours are difficult to diagnose. The symptoms are usually vague and similar to more common health problems. Many family doctors have never encountered a NETS patient. When presented with symptoms like stomach pain and diarrhea, they naturally think of things like Irritable Bowel Syndrome, Crohn’s Disease or lactose intolerance. Medical students are taught “when hearing hoofbeats, think of horses, not zebras.” Neuroendocrine tumours are very rare and therefore they are considered to be zebras.

Since my diagnosis, I’ve noticed zebra stripes everywhere! In recent years, the fashion world has been inundated with animal prints and the zebra is definitely a popular motif. I’ve seen zebra t-shirts, zebra leggings, zebra pjs and even zebra bras. I’ve tried on zebra jeans and a sexy looking zebra dress, but I didn’t buy either one. I’ve also seen zebra handbags and zebra luggage. One of the ladies I occasionally play golf with has a zebra golf bag. Obviously, it was the zebra stripes on the figure in Sotuya’s painting that prompted the NET Cancer Day organization to post it on their Facebook page and that initially caught my eye, but there’s more than that to my fascination with it.

Like the tree, I’m more firmly rooted to one place than I was before my diagnosis. I receive a monthly injection to alleviate the symptoms mentioned above that has to be administered by a specially trained nurse. Fortunately, I can arrange to have the injection given anywhere in Canada. In fact, plans are already in place for me to have my next one in Vancouver, but arranging to have it given outside the country would be much more complicated. There likely won’t be any more long term stints teaching English or doing missionary work overseas in my future.

I’m also firmly rooted in my faith, however. It’s my absolute confidence that my life is in God’s hands that gives me the freedom and joy that I see represented by the outstretched arms or branches of the figure in the painting. I see strength and purpose in those arms as well as exuberance.

The figure is also graceful, possessing an elegance that I would like to think is true of me. I often pray that I might be a woman of grace, one who doesn’t allow the circumstances of life to define who I am. When I was diagnosed with cancer, I fervently prayed that God would enable me to endure whatever lay ahead with grace.

As the title of the painting implies, there’s also a wildness in her. I, too, am a little bit wild at heart. It’s not a loud or out of control sort of wildness, but I believe in living life to the fullest and I’m always ready to try something new. I don’t like to follow the crowd and I don’t always see eye to eye with the people who love me. I speak my mind, but I don’t fly off the handle. I love nothing more than a hike in the wilderness or a walk on a beach and just because I’m in my 60s doesn’t mean I can’t climb a tree! Yes, I’m a little bit wild; a little bit unconventional and I think this is a picture of me!

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You can see other examples of Sylvia Sotuyo’s work and even purchase prints here.

Magical Mystery Tour

/ edebock / 8 Comments

Several weeks ago, an insert appeared in our Sunday Morning church bulletin advertising the SCCN (Sedgewick Community Church of the Nazarene) Magical Mystery Tour. “Come ride the bus to our unannounced destination for a fantastic fun filled day of fellowship and food” it proclaimed. Today’s date was given, but very few other details.

I checked the calendar and the day was open. What fun! Those of you who know me well or who’ve been following my blog for very long know that I like nothing better than packing up and going somewhere. Anywhere, whether it be a day trip or a year in Japan, I’m game to go! It’s the gypsy in my blood!

At 10:30 this morning approximately 30 of us gathered in front of the church. “Where do you think we’re going?” some asked while others tried to guess. The 32 passenger County of Flagstaff community bus pulled up and we knew we’d be traveling in style. With temperatures of over 30ºC forecast, we’d definitely appreciate the air conditioning!

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I’ve always been the travel planner in our family. For me, part of the fun of traveling is the planning that usually goes into it, but today I felt like a kid climbing aboard the bus with absolutely no idea where it was going to take me! Soon we were headed north, passing vast fields of bright yellow canola in bloom. Perhaps we were going to Viking, hometown of the Sutters, one of the most famous families in NHL history. Six of the seven Sutter brothers made it to the National Hockey League in the 1970s and 80s and four of them went on to become coaches and general managers. Half an hour north of Sedgewick, Viking is also hometown to our Mystery Tour organizer. Perhaps she knew of something interesting for us to do in the small town of just over 1000 people. But no, the bus continued onward.

When we turned west on Highway 16, we began to speculate that our destination might be Vegreville, home of the world’s largest pysanka (Ukrainian Easter egg). Sure enough, though we passed by the giant egg, the bus pulled into town and stopped at the historic train station. Built in 1930, it now houses the Station Cafe where a delicious buffet of authentic Ukrainian food awaited us. After relaxing around the tables, we were given a tour of the building. Many of us decided that we’d happily move into the beautifully renovated upper story that once housed the station master’s family.

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Our second stop was, in fact, the park with the 9.4 metre high pysanka that reflects the traditional art of the many Ukrainian settlers who made this part of Alberta their home.

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A stop for ice cream in Viking on the way home rounded out our day. Though the results of my most recent glucose tests were pretty good, I am pre diabetic and I’d already indulged in a small dessert back at the train station so I knew I’d better forgo another sweet treat. Besides, after filling up on cabbage rolls, perogies and other Ukrainian delights, I wasn’t the least bit hungry!

The Magical Mystery Tour was definitely all that it promised to be; a day filled with fun, fellowship and fantastic food. In fact, some of us are hoping that a new SCCN tradition has been born!

20150711_143001photo: Doris Johnson

It’s Wink Day!

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June 18, 2015 is Wink Day! The Canadian beauty industry, through their charitable foundation, Beauty Gives Back, has been encouraging women to post pictures and videos (with the hashtag #winkday) of themselves wearing blue eyeshadow today in support of women going through the emotional trauma of the Cancer Blues. The Cancer Blues is a term, coined by Beauty Gives Back, for the emotional distress caused by cancer and its treatment and is an often ignored consequence of the disease that can affect a person’s ability to fight and thrive through the ordeal.

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For over 20 years, Beauty Gives Back has supported tens of thousands of Canadian women through the Cancer Blues with programs such as Look Good Feel Better and FacingCancer.ca. “We are a ‘feel good’ industry – colourful, sexy and fun. We use colour to make women look good and feel better every day, so no one knows more about how women feel about themselves than we do,” says the Beauty Gives Back website. “We count over 95% of Canadian women as customers in their lifetime. And we cannot, and will not, abandon those same women when they are fighting for their lives against cancer. Therefore, the mandate of Beauty Gives Back is clear, real and relevant: We dedicate ourselves to treating the emotional fallout from cancer. Using the sum total of our knowledge, experience, expertise and resources, we do what women trust and rely on us to do – to make them feel human again in the face of the ravages of cancer and its treatment. In doing so, we help restore their confidence, and the confidence of those around them, to continue fighting with conviction and living with dignity.”

That’s definitely a cause that I could get behind, especially when all it took was a bit of blue eyeshadow, a camera and social media! Since we’re visiting in Calgary, daughter, Melaina, and granddaughter, Jami-Lee, joined in the fun. Even Jami’s cat, Duncan, with his blue collar, had to get in on the action!

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In spite of dealing with two completely separate cancers over the past two years, one of them incurable, I can honestly say that, though I have, of course, faced some emotional symptoms, I have not really suffered from the Cancer Blues. I can easily understand how it could happen though. I feel blessed to have had the amazing support of family, friends and a fantastic medical team. I have the good fortune of living just two hours away from the Cross Cancer Institute in Edmonton, Alberta, a world class treatment centre that is truly dedicated to treating the whole person. A Look Good, Feel Better workshop early last year was fun and a very helpful diversion from the more serious sides of dealing with my illness, but above all, I attribute my lack of mental distress to my undying faith in God who assured me the day after I learned that I had cancer, “I’ve got this in my hands. I know what’s going on. I’m going to take care of you!”

It’s not too late to get in on the Wink Day action! Photos and videos can be posted throughout the month of June. Why not wink with us?

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Dowboy

/ edebock / 11 Comments

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This is one of my favourite photographs, taken of my older brother, Donald, and I when I was about four months old. Isn’t he cute? He looks like a perfect child and in many ways he was, but what you can’t see is the damage that had already been done to his brain when he suffered from encephalitis as the result of having measles about 10 months before this photo was taken. No, this isn’t a rant about vaccination, but it definitely could be!

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Encephalitis is acute inflammation of the brain caused by either a viral infection or the body’s own immune system mistakenly attacking brain tissue. The most common cause is a viral infection and it occurs in approximately 1 in every 1000 cases of measles. It develops rapidly and requires immediate care; care that was not available in the small, isolated town where we lived in 1952. In fact, it was not until a few months had passed and Donald began to lose his words and exhibit other signs of brain damage that our parents realized that something was seriously wrong.

As I grew up, I came to realize that my big brother was different from other children and I loved him with a fierce and protective love that endures to this day. Though his brain injury robbed him of the ability to speak, I knew he loved me too. In fact, I remember Mom telling me how difficult it had been to discipline me when I was little because if she spanked me, Donald cried too! She also told me that before I could say his name, I called him Dowboy.

Donald has always been a gentle soul and very easy to love, but I remember one occasion when some neighbourhood boys teased me about my brother, the “retard”, a word that I have always hated with a passion. Perhaps, it was then that I learned the power of using my words. I was a timid child, known amongst my peers as a goody two-shoes, but in that moment I must have become a wild and vicious creature! I don’t remember what I said, but I dressed those boys down to such an extent that word got back to my parents about how I’d stood up for my brother, and my father speaks of it admirably to this very day!

Though I do remember my grandmother telling me more than once that I would always have to watch out for Donald, I don’t recall my parents ever making me feel that I would have to carry the burden of caring for him. Regardless, I grew up with a tremendous sense of responsibility for Donald that has remained with me through the years even though he lives a long distance from me.

With two other handicapped men, Donald lives in a fully staffed house in North Vancouver that is operated by the Community Living Society. CLS provides residential and personalized community-based support to individuals throughout the Lower Mainland of Vancouver and the Upper Fraser Valley. As a family, we are so blessed to know that Donald receives excellent, compassionate care and lives a productive and meaningful life.

In his earlier retirement years, my father was actively involved as a CLS board member and served as president of that board for several years. Until recently, he has been the primary family contact for everything to do with Donald’s care, but Dad celebrated his 92nd birthday last week and over the past couple of years, I have been gradually taking over that role. CLS is committed to working with the families of supported individuals so meetings have been scheduled when I’m in Vancouver to visit, phone calls have been made, and when necessary, paperwork shuffled by email or snail mail.

Then came this week! On Wednesday morning, I was approaching the second last green on the local golf course when my cell phone rang. It was Trudy calling; manager of Donald’s house, and a dedicated caregiver who has been involved in his life and therefore, mine, for over 30 years. She was phoning from the emergency ward to let me know that he had fallen and they were waiting for x-rays to be taken. To make a long story short, Donald had a fractured hip and underwent surgery yesterday. It has been killing me not to be there. In my head, I know there’s nothing I could do that isn’t already being done, but my heart wants to be with my Dowboy! Fortunately, one of his caregivers has been with him throughout each day since he arrived at the hospital and they have been texting me regularly with updates. The orthopaedic surgeon and the anesthetist were both in touch with my sister (a medical doctor) by phone to discuss the medical details. Today, the physiotherapists began working with Donald and they already had him standing up. A lady from his church even visited and brought him cookies! Yes, he is in good hands and, though my heart wants to be there now, I will wait until early August when I’ll be in Vancouver to help him celebrate his 65th birthday!

The best thing about pain

/ edebock / 8 Comments

I’ve often said that the best thing about pain is how good it feels when it stops! Yesterday was my first completely pain free day in the last three weeks and so far, today is going just as well.

Though I didn’t realize it at first, I was suffering a nasty reaction to the cancer treatment that I received on April 14th. The first few days after the treatment were fine; just the normal tiredness that I’d experienced after each of the previous ones. Then, I woke at about 3:30 one morning with excruciating stomach pain. I had no idea what was going on and neither did my family doctor. He ordered an x-ray and when that came back looking normal, he suggested an enema to ensure that there was no blockage anywhere. For a little while, I felt a bit better, but soon the fire in my belly was back. Pain filled days and sleepless nights followed, eventually prompting me to phone the cancer clinic and describe my symptoms to Brent, the nurse who coordinates the team that provides my care.

“I hate to tell you this, but I’m pretty sure we did that to you,” he told me!

Gee, thanks Brent!

Discovering that what I was experiencing was actually a fairly common reaction, especially in patients with dead and dying tumour cells in their system (that’s definitely the good part!) didn’t lessen the pain at all, but it did give me peace of mind. Brent also assured me that I should soon begin to feel better. Apparently, this kind of reaction usually occurs within a two week window following treatment and I was nearing the end of that. We discussed the fact that the lining of my stomach and intestines was likely badly inflamed and I made the decision to eat a very bland diet of apple juice, applesauce, toast, crackers, tea and broth for a few days to give my insides a chance to rest and heal. That seemed to help and sure enough, right at the two week point, things improved significantly. I was even well enough to spend a few days in Calgary celebrating two very special birthdays. Our granddaughter, Jami-Lee, had her fifth birthday on April 28 and her brother, Drew, turned seven on May 1.

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I continued to experience intermittent pain until two days ago, but that too seems to have finally passed. Obviously, all of this has made it impossible for me to begin following the dietary and exercise recommendations related to my recent pre diabetes diagnosis. I had no choice but to put that on hold until I got this under control, but I’m eating well again and I’ve just returned from a brisk 20 minute walk. That’s a far cry from the recommended 30 minutes five times a week, but it’s a start. I also felt well enough to play my first round of golf of the season yesterday!

My real hope in all of this is that the treatment has been as hard on my tumours as it has been on the rest of me! We’ll know more about that when I go for CT and PET scans on July 24. These will provide the baseline for my next phase of therapy which won’t involve another treatment until sometime in the fall. I’m very thankful for that too! If I was facing another one in just a few weeks, as I have done until now, I think I’d be tempted to slink away and hide in a deep, dark cave!

Instead, I’m going to enjoy the summer… sunshine, camping, golfing, geocaching, time with family… !