This is very hard for me to write, but I can’t vent to my family about it. You all will understand, and some of you may have already heard the words that were told to me today by your own oncologist. I went to see Dr. Wolf today to talk about what the next plan of action would be based on her professional opinion. The news was bleak, and extremely hard to swallow. My parents and fiancé were with me, but she wanted to exam me first which gave us some time to talk privately. Dr. Wolf asked me what my thoughts were based on the tumors found surrounding my liver, and I gave her a quick shrug of the shoulder and asked her to cut to the chase. She said ‘Deandra, your chances of beating this cancer are slim to none at this point.’ This is where the air started to deflate from my balloon of strength and will to survive. She explained to me that my cancer is VERY aggressive (tumor nodules were already the size of a golf ball), and that she looks at my case as non curable. I asked about the stem cell transplant and she said she would not recommend it regardless of the use of 2nd line chemo drugs first to shrink the tumors. She elaborated on the risks and toxicity of the stem cell transplant, leaving no side effects out, and how she feels it would do more harm than good. Her words were ‘in my 20-some years of experience with ovarian cancer and stem cell transplants as a possible treatment option, ONLY those with minimal residual cancer left in their body responded to the transplant.’ I then asked her why we couldn’t still go on with the transplant, and she said at this point, there is only a 10-15% chance that ANY chemo will work enough to leave “minimal residual cancer” as a starting point for the high dose to attack. I asked about surgery, she said there are too many to deal with and it would only put my body at risk for infections and complications. To make a long story short, she delicately told me my cancer is growing too rapidly to search for any other options to prolong a remission any longer than a few years. At this point I asked her for a prognosis BASED on my individual case, also assuring her I would not read too much into the number because NO ONE can be absolutely sure. She said 6 months max if I decide to omit chemo and live my life, or 1-2 years if we can find a chemo sufficient enough to keep me comfortable. I then asked her what she would recommend for me to do, and she thinks going back to Colorado to start a chemo program of Doxil and Avastin for 3-4 cycles, then come back to Houston to re evaluate after a CT/PET scan. Best case scenario, the tumors will have shrunk, or be gone all together, and no spread of disease. At this point she would send me home for another 2-3 cycles and repeat the process. If after 7-9 cycles, there continues to be no spread of disease and/ or MINIMAL residual cancer left in my body, we could rethink the possibility of a stem cell transplant. She did say this scenario would be extremely rare, but possible. Worst case, we find the cancer has spread even after 4-5 cycles of Doxil, we then would discuss another chemo option or I say ‘s@rew it, enough is enough!’
To be frank, she was very sympathetic when we talked privately about my prognosis, but visibly grim when we regrouped with my family and Luke. I asked her not to state her opinion on my prognosis in front of my parents. I asked if she could go about it some other way, and she did. She didn’t sugar coat anything when she was bombarded with questions from Luke and my parents, but they never asked what my chances were. I think she cleverly answered the questions in a way that didn’t offer them any unrealistic hope. Her attitude and energy was very solemn.
How do I feel? Depressed, ANGRY, helpless, worrisome, and most of all…SCARED. I revealed everything to Luke later on in the day, and he has been crying all day. Does this mean I am going to give up? H@ll no!! I am NOT throwing in the towel; I want to make that VERY clear. But, I do have a different perspective on it all. I will go back to Colorado to start the Avastin/Doxil program for as long as my body will respond, but I no longer have that attitude “whatever it takes” – I just don’t feel that way anymore. Luke and I feel as if we need to explore some different theories. Maybe a strict nutrition program would benefit me? Or maybe seeking some alternate medicine? Maybe I need to surrender my fears to God, and trust He will heal me? I’m open to all ideas…
I don’t want to die you all, but I can’t help but feel I am staring death in the face. Honestly, the most difficult part of all of this is watching my parents cry and recognizing the fear in Luke’s eyes. It’s ABSOLUTELY HEART WRENCHING.
This @%**&$ cancer SUCKS!!! I love you all and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all of your messages of support and the prayer chain. On one happy note, HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAN!!! Jan, I got your message last night after I woke up in the morning. I’m sorry, my cell phone was on silent in my purse. I saved your message and listened to it multiple times today. You are such a special friend, and I love you dearly.
Gia – Your message made me teary as well. You are such a kind woman with a big heart. Thank you for being a beautiful friend, for your prayers, and for all of your concerns. Love you!
The rest of you please know I pray for each and every one of you. With love, Deandra