Medical Update Reflections

Janet and Joe in Kuwait, 1982-1984

Everything in life changes, including bucket lists. When I learned I had cancer and struggled through two surgeries, a round of chemo, and another round of continuous chemo and radiation, plus the side effects of it all, I thought, "When this is finished, I'll travel to those places I'd like to see." I had in mind China, India, re-visit Italy and France, but especially, I'll see Seattle (where my daughter Jennifer lives), and spend some time in Tennessee. Since my last post, my bucket list has shrunk.

Yesterday, I learned, barring a miraculous intervention, my time here on earth is fast coming to a close. Now, I have been diagnosed with metastatic pancreatic cancer. My first pancreatic cancer spread cancer cells throughout my body via the blood even before my Whipple surgery. At the time of the Whipple, nothing showed up on the scans, the surgeon saw no signs of metastasis, felt no additional masses, yet the cancer had spread. If they had known that it had spread already, they would not have put me through a Whipple.

Even in March, when I was in the hospital and they were running all sorts of tests to find out why my liver enzymes were elevated and why I was so swollen with fluid, nothing showed up on the scans, or through any of the battery of tests. But now my cancer has shown itself to be metastasized (mass on incision site, spots in my liver, and areas of my stomach lining). When asked what the average life span is of someone diagnosed with metastatic pancreatic cancer, my oncologist said 9-11 months. He has known some to live longer, maybe 1-2 years, and has heard of a few more that have lived longer then that, but some only lived 3-4 months, give or take. Suddenly, traveling to far away places does not appeal.

Charlie (Chuck) 3rd grade

I don't want to spend what precious time and energy I have left, traveling to and fro. I'd still like to see those places, would still like to visit Jennifer in her new city, did get to travel to Tennessee and Alabama, but now, I just want to stay home and finish those projects that mean the most to me.

David (3 yrs) and Jennifer (8 yrs)

Roger, Virginia, Linnea, Richard, Patty, Janet, Bob

How am I dealing with this latest news? Though I highly suspected this was the case, though I know no one really knows the day or the hour, hearing the average time for those with pancreatic cancer that has metastasized is 9-11 months makes me incredibly sad, in particular for my children, my grand-children, my family, my friends and for Joe. I wish they didn't have to go through this. I wish I could spare them the heartache. I'm not fearful. Grace surrounds and infuses me with love.

I'll still pray for healing. The oncologist said chemo can possibly slow down the progression of the disease, but will not cure it. Only God can do that now. I will start chemo again on Wednesday, 3 weeks on, 1 week off and in two months we'll re-evaluate with CT scans. If at any time it seems like to all concerned the chemo is not enhancing my quality of life, or is doing more harm than good, or is not diminishing the mass or spots, and in fact increasing them, we will stop. I trust that God can heal, but am realistic to know, that for whatever reason, not everyone is healed, and those who are healed will live to face death again. Death comes to us all, sooner or later.

My new bucket list?
Make scrapbooks for Charlie, Jennifer, and David with pics, memorabilia I've collected, and my reflections (hopefully time to make a little one for the grand-kids too
Write reflections on my own life events for my children and family
Keep Babblings updated as I progress
Visit with all I can, simplify, enjoy

Pray for healing but if healing means going "home," then pray grace, mercy, peace, and dignity attend me on the way. Ya'll come see me!


"God of grace and God of glory,
On Thy people pour thy power;
Crown Thine ancient Church's story,
Bring her bud to glorious flower.
Grant us wisdom,
Grant us courage,
For the facing of this hour,
For the facing of this hour.

Lo! the hosts of evil round us
Scorn Thy Christ, assail His ways!
From the fears that long have bound us,
Free our hearts to faith and praise.
Grant us wisdom,
Grant us courage,
For the living of these days,
For the living of these days."
Harry Emerson Fosdick (1878-1969)

Life tends to get in the way of my vision for what comes next. Spring 2011, I can remember sensing something's coming, just down the road, around the bend. I couldn't see it. Didn't know what it was. I just knew it was coming. Being positive, by nature, I, of course, thought that something would be good. It would capture my attention and wing me on to my next adventure. 


Mom had settled into my home, for the most part. I basically put-on-hold teaching, as my stress level could only "handle" having Mom in the home. We had good days and some not so good days, and some days, just not worth mentioning at all. I'd usually call one of my sisters or text my brothers and say, you'll never guess what Mom came up with this morning. But, all in all, life in retrospect, seemed to be running fairly smooth, as smooth as life with someone that has Alzheimer's can.


Then August came around and my world turned upside down. That something DID capture my attention. 


Within the course of a month, I was not only diagnosed with ovarian cancer, but also with pancreatic cancer. Two separate, unrelated cancers. My ovarian (notice how I've owned it...its mine, not someone else's...what does that say about me, I wonder??) cancer seemed to be well behaved. It was borderline cancer, although as my medical oncologist (acquired when I had my second diagnosis) said, cancer is cancer. My GYN oncologist, after removing all my female organs and my appendix, said it would only require a careful scrutiny. No need for chemo or radiation. YAY!! I was elated and ready to get on with my life again. 

I had one concern though. Before surgery, I began to notice a creeping yellowness to my skin and eyes and some other symptoms. By the time my surgeon was ready to release me and remove my staples three weeks post-op, I had dragon eyes, you know those stories where the dragon has piercing, devilishly yellow eyes! My GYN finally looked up (yes, I meant it) and said, "You're yellow!" A blood test confirmed a dangerously elevated bilirubin and elevated liver enzymes. He told me, "get to the hospital, NOW! These are liver failure levels." 


A scan showed a blockage in my pancreas, and after biopsies etc, confirmed another nightmare, adeno pancreatic cancer. A small mass blocked my bile duct, causing bile to spew into my system. The jaundice alerted the doctors of the mass, otherwise, it could have grown undetected until too late for them to operate. All concerned called it fortuitous. My medical oncologist explained how they stage cancers, what they look for in pancreatic cancer in order to work toward a cure. It looked like they found mine before it became incurable.


I couldn't read. I couldn't even pray. I remember sitting up on the edge of my bed in the hospital after getting all this information, alone, softly singing to myself the song I wrote about in another blog, Somebody's Praying: "mighty hands are guiding me to protect me from what I can't see, O Lord, I believe....."  I was in shock, overwhelmed, yet being held by an invisible gracious Spirit of love (God is love). I don't know what I would do without my family, my children, my friends, and my priests. All have gathered around and have been supporting me, and I'm so grateful for their love. 


In mid-October, another surgeon performed a Whipple. He removed a portion of my pancreas, a portion of my duodenum, a portion of a bile duct, my gall bladder, and re-arranged my innards (technically a duodenalpancreadectomy, whipple resection). I wonder what's left?? All professionals concerned informed me, I recovered quickly from both, particularly the Whipple surgery. I have nothing to compare it to, so I'll take their word. 


All I know is, I went from having one alternative medicine doctor to having not one, but four oncologists. From only taking supplements (except for my thyroid medicine) to needing chemo therapy and radiation, in  the course of just a few months time. This cancer was not as well behaved. It is Stage III, with close borders. My oncologists still think, "we can cure this." I'm grateful for their attention and compassion. 

I know that no one leaves this world alive, but would like a bit longer to work on my bucket list, see my grand-children grow up, and accompany my children to mid-life, at least. According to my surgeon, if I make it two years, that will be great! Five years, they'll talk cure. I like what a friend said the other day, "When you wake up the next day after diagnosis, you're a cancer survivor." I'm not ready to say good-bye, not yet. Life and death are not in my hands, though. Control over our circumstances is an illusion. We just don't know what lies around the bend. 


My brothers and sisters have come together and decided I need "to laser focus" on my own health and are in the process of moving Mom to assisted living. She is not happy about it. No one is.



I've been re-watching The Lord of the Rings and identified with Frodo. "I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened." 
Gandalf assures him, "So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."


So, as I go through this transition time, time between now and whenever my Lord calls me home, as I struggle with side effects of chemo and radiation, I'm living now, but also planning for the time I have left (a good place to be), and hopefully, finishing the bucket list.