Aa
Just an update
Dear Friends,
I am having the hardest time writing this. I don't know what to say or where to start. Over the last six months my CA125 has risen constantly and lately it has been jumping astronomically. 92 to 185 to 300 to 1300 to 1800 to 3065. Those aren't the exact #'s but close enough. The doxil/carbo didn't work at all and I am now on Avastin. I have had 1 & 1/2 treatments and they say it takes 3 or 4 to know if it will work. Unfortunately if it doesn’t work I only have 3 or 4 months so I am a little confused by that. Does that mean after the 3 or 4 treatments or including that time? Rhetorical question. My onc doesn't have a lot of info on how this will work for me because ins. companies have only recently started paying for Avastin for ovarian cancer. There is one woman in the office whose CA dropped by half after 3 treatments. Her cancer is not like mine though. I am still somewhat hopeful, but I have pretty much been living like I am already gone. My liver is full of tumors, I have numerous abdominal/pelvic tumors, and I am not a candidate for any of the investigational drugs they are working on now. My onc doesn't do the investigational stuff, but another group here does and they looked at my records. MD Anderson has no hope to offer and my onc says he will be more than glad to send my records wherever I want, but there just isn't anything out there that would help me and I trust that he knows. I wish he was a quack, but he is the "old gray dog", the "go to" guy and he would do anything for his patients.
I am lucky so far in that I don't have any internal parts sticking together, no kidney problems, no bowel issues etc. Those can all be really bad. If none of those things occur, than my end shouldn't be too bad. My liver will just shut down and hopefully I will just go to sleep.
There is no dignity in death, only pain and humiliation. When I had to go to the hospital @ 3 AM Monday morning, I was so weak I made Cory call an ambulance. I couldn't get down the steps to get to the car. I didn't care that I was wearing a shirt that was unbuttoned, or that I didn't have any pants on (thank goodness for cute thongs at least, although they looked better on a less bony frame). They dressed me enough to get me out of here. In the ER, and this is the first time this has happened, I had to use a bedpan. Okay, you all may be thinking that there are worse things in life, but you must have never had to do that. To me it was just a small sample of the indignities yet to come. I just hope they have me knocked out on so many pain meds that I don't know or don't care. Although I have gained weight (up to 101.4) I know that what happened to both of my mother's will happen to me...I will waste away to nothingness. It was one of my worst fears and although people assured me it wouldn't happen, they were just blowing happy smoke up my butt and I knew it.
I am sorry if this upsets anyone. I have been told, and read on here on more than one occasion that talking about dying is not uplifting, helpful, or supportive and I am not quite sure how to respond to that. It is true that it isn't any of those things, but is this site only for those who want information, a cyber hug, and a few platitudes? This is the reality of my life now (& many others) and as hard as it has been to accept that I won't have many more good days, that I can't lift anything heavier than my purse (I have always been freakishly strong for a small woman) & that Cory is just going to have to paint the spare room without me, it is what I have to accept. I will be in a lot less pain physically and emotionally if I just learn to accept my limitations. That is really hard for a Type A person though.
I am tired and in pain most of the time. I can get stuff done as long as it doesn't require thinking, or making any kind of decision, and I have to be sitting down.
I ask that you all pray, or whatever it is you do spiritually, that this Avastin works a miracle and I get another couple of years. Heck, at this point another couple of months sounds good. My onc has said that we are on a month to month basis and depending on the Avastin that could be extended or it could rapidly become day to day. Don't get me wrong, I am really hoping that this stuff works the miracle for me that it has for others, but things aren't looking great and I don’t feel well most of the time. I have a lot of stuff to get in order for Cory, the girls and for friends. That's one of the reasons I haven't been on here much. Aside from my brain usually not working as well as it is today, I am spending what good time I have sorting through papers, marking stuff for who they go to, & making Cory lists of what to do and where everything is. I am trying to fit in some fun also. I can't wait to see Lisa at the end of April, my daughter Kelly and I are planning to go to a Renaissance Fair in mid May, & we are hoping to be able to go back down to Charleston, SC or maybe New Orleans for a few days. Even though I am from the south I never knew the proper pronunciation for New Orleans until I met someone from there. It is pronounced "Naw Lins". Just a little worthless info.
I am getting a little afraid. I know that my God is waiting for me and I know that I will have an amazing eternal life, but I am not really finished with this life yet. Also, the idea of judgment day isn’t exactly something I want to rush into. I am really hoping that when I have to stand before God and account for my life that Jesus will step forward and say something like “she doesn’t have to go through all of that, she’s one of mine.” There is no excuse, reason or rationale that I could give for my poor performance in this life. I’m sure I would do a lot of looking at the ground and shuffling my feet. It is hard enough to stand in front of a parent when you are a kid and try to explain something, so I can just imagine what it must be like to have to face THE father with the train wreck that I allowed my life to be.
Well, there you have it. So many people have asked about what is going on and I hate using forum space for this, but I just couldn't write all of those notes and emails.
Thank you all for your love and support. You are constantly in my prayers and even if I am not on here much, Cory and I do pray for all of you every night. I hope that those of you going through this will find the strength to keep plowing ahead. It does get to the point where you are just to tired to fight, but I hope that point is a long, long way down the road for all of you.
Love,
Jan
I am having the hardest time writing this. I don't know what to say or where to start. Over the last six months my CA125 has risen constantly and lately it has been jumping astronomically. 92 to 185 to 300 to 1300 to 1800 to 3065. Those aren't the exact #'s but close enough. The doxil/carbo didn't work at all and I am now on Avastin. I have had 1 & 1/2 treatments and they say it takes 3 or 4 to know if it will work. Unfortunately if it doesn’t work I only have 3 or 4 months so I am a little confused by that. Does that mean after the 3 or 4 treatments or including that time? Rhetorical question. My onc doesn't have a lot of info on how this will work for me because ins. companies have only recently started paying for Avastin for ovarian cancer. There is one woman in the office whose CA dropped by half after 3 treatments. Her cancer is not like mine though. I am still somewhat hopeful, but I have pretty much been living like I am already gone. My liver is full of tumors, I have numerous abdominal/pelvic tumors, and I am not a candidate for any of the investigational drugs they are working on now. My onc doesn't do the investigational stuff, but another group here does and they looked at my records. MD Anderson has no hope to offer and my onc says he will be more than glad to send my records wherever I want, but there just isn't anything out there that would help me and I trust that he knows. I wish he was a quack, but he is the "old gray dog", the "go to" guy and he would do anything for his patients.
I am lucky so far in that I don't have any internal parts sticking together, no kidney problems, no bowel issues etc. Those can all be really bad. If none of those things occur, than my end shouldn't be too bad. My liver will just shut down and hopefully I will just go to sleep.
There is no dignity in death, only pain and humiliation. When I had to go to the hospital @ 3 AM Monday morning, I was so weak I made Cory call an ambulance. I couldn't get down the steps to get to the car. I didn't care that I was wearing a shirt that was unbuttoned, or that I didn't have any pants on (thank goodness for cute thongs at least, although they looked better on a less bony frame). They dressed me enough to get me out of here. In the ER, and this is the first time this has happened, I had to use a bedpan. Okay, you all may be thinking that there are worse things in life, but you must have never had to do that. To me it was just a small sample of the indignities yet to come. I just hope they have me knocked out on so many pain meds that I don't know or don't care. Although I have gained weight (up to 101.4) I know that what happened to both of my mother's will happen to me...I will waste away to nothingness. It was one of my worst fears and although people assured me it wouldn't happen, they were just blowing happy smoke up my butt and I knew it.
I am sorry if this upsets anyone. I have been told, and read on here on more than one occasion that talking about dying is not uplifting, helpful, or supportive and I am not quite sure how to respond to that. It is true that it isn't any of those things, but is this site only for those who want information, a cyber hug, and a few platitudes? This is the reality of my life now (& many others) and as hard as it has been to accept that I won't have many more good days, that I can't lift anything heavier than my purse (I have always been freakishly strong for a small woman) & that Cory is just going to have to paint the spare room without me, it is what I have to accept. I will be in a lot less pain physically and emotionally if I just learn to accept my limitations. That is really hard for a Type A person though.
I am tired and in pain most of the time. I can get stuff done as long as it doesn't require thinking, or making any kind of decision, and I have to be sitting down.
I ask that you all pray, or whatever it is you do spiritually, that this Avastin works a miracle and I get another couple of years. Heck, at this point another couple of months sounds good. My onc has said that we are on a month to month basis and depending on the Avastin that could be extended or it could rapidly become day to day. Don't get me wrong, I am really hoping that this stuff works the miracle for me that it has for others, but things aren't looking great and I don’t feel well most of the time. I have a lot of stuff to get in order for Cory, the girls and for friends. That's one of the reasons I haven't been on here much. Aside from my brain usually not working as well as it is today, I am spending what good time I have sorting through papers, marking stuff for who they go to, & making Cory lists of what to do and where everything is. I am trying to fit in some fun also. I can't wait to see Lisa at the end of April, my daughter Kelly and I are planning to go to a Renaissance Fair in mid May, & we are hoping to be able to go back down to Charleston, SC or maybe New Orleans for a few days. Even though I am from the south I never knew the proper pronunciation for New Orleans until I met someone from there. It is pronounced "Naw Lins". Just a little worthless info.
I am getting a little afraid. I know that my God is waiting for me and I know that I will have an amazing eternal life, but I am not really finished with this life yet. Also, the idea of judgment day isn’t exactly something I want to rush into. I am really hoping that when I have to stand before God and account for my life that Jesus will step forward and say something like “she doesn’t have to go through all of that, she’s one of mine.” There is no excuse, reason or rationale that I could give for my poor performance in this life. I’m sure I would do a lot of looking at the ground and shuffling my feet. It is hard enough to stand in front of a parent when you are a kid and try to explain something, so I can just imagine what it must be like to have to face THE father with the train wreck that I allowed my life to be.
Well, there you have it. So many people have asked about what is going on and I hate using forum space for this, but I just couldn't write all of those notes and emails.
Thank you all for your love and support. You are constantly in my prayers and even if I am not on here much, Cory and I do pray for all of you every night. I hope that those of you going through this will find the strength to keep plowing ahead. It does get to the point where you are just to tired to fight, but I hope that point is a long, long way down the road for all of you.
Love,
Jan
Dear Jan .. I wish things were different and you felt more optimistic. I will pray that the Avastin works for you and the miracle happens. You have given so much help and hope to others, I wish I could do the same for you. I will continue to pray for a positive result from the chemo. I will pray for peace of mind for you and Cory. I will pray that when your time comes, you are ready. I know the Good Lord will be waiting with open arms for you.
God bless and keep you .. .Judy
God bless and keep you .. .Judy
I know that I don't know you but I wanted you to know that I am praying for you and your family. I also wanted you to know that your words have moved me very deeply. The section of you post regarding accounting for your life when you meet God, it has inspired me to work harder and be a better person. Thank you for that.
God bless you.
God bless you.
As always your thoughts are touching and clear. Well said little one. I'm proud of you.
I have no idea what has gone on in your life before; I just know how much you've touched people on this board. That's a legacy to be proud of. Your time isn't up yet. Whether it's one month or 12, I'm confident your love will be reaching all those around you. It doesn't always take words. Remember, one of my most favorite memories of my Dad is seeing him smile.
Don't worry about judgment. Just as we love our children even when they make a bad decision or a mistake, God loves you even more.
Hugs and smiles for you, Irene
I have no idea what has gone on in your life before; I just know how much you've touched people on this board. That's a legacy to be proud of. Your time isn't up yet. Whether it's one month or 12, I'm confident your love will be reaching all those around you. It doesn't always take words. Remember, one of my most favorite memories of my Dad is seeing him smile.
Don't worry about judgment. Just as we love our children even when they make a bad decision or a mistake, God loves you even more.
Hugs and smiles for you, Irene
I am praying with everything I have and from the bottom of my heart that the Avastin is your miracle..........I think you know what a beautiful person you are, and how you are an inspiration to many... I hate this disease and pray daily that a cure will get here soon.......I know you have hope and love..I think of you often........I will be praying as always........Love, Dawnlyn
Dear Jan,
You shine bright like the Sun, even on the cloudiest day
Close your eyes, lift your head towards that ball of fire
And let your body absorb it's warmth and power.
Your soul is it's spit-fire strength, even in your most anguish moment
Because, you will always shine bright, like the Sun.
You have been in my thoughts and prayers daily. When times are hard to cope with, we view Life with a realism that doesn't seem so miraculous, but indeed Life is a miracle and I pray Avastin is your miracle drug. Even when the pain is at its worst, I know you continue to have the will to fight this beast, because you said, "I am not really finished with this life yet."
One last thing I'd like to mention; you have always been one of Jesus' chosen. Know that in your heart and let it comfort you when you need it.
God bless and I hold my hand out in a circle of prayer for you.
Love, Angie
You shine bright like the Sun, even on the cloudiest day
Close your eyes, lift your head towards that ball of fire
And let your body absorb it's warmth and power.
Your soul is it's spit-fire strength, even in your most anguish moment
Because, you will always shine bright, like the Sun.
You have been in my thoughts and prayers daily. When times are hard to cope with, we view Life with a realism that doesn't seem so miraculous, but indeed Life is a miracle and I pray Avastin is your miracle drug. Even when the pain is at its worst, I know you continue to have the will to fight this beast, because you said, "I am not really finished with this life yet."
One last thing I'd like to mention; you have always been one of Jesus' chosen. Know that in your heart and let it comfort you when you need it.
God bless and I hold my hand out in a circle of prayer for you.
Love, Angie
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