2024 Archives
11/19/24
No, I have not given up on updating this blog ... I have just been taking a long, sober look at what it means to be in remission. It does NOT mean I am cured or that my cancer has disappeared; it's just not advancing through my body as it was before (metastatic), which is what is meant by NED (no evidence of new disease).
I also don't have as many appointments as I've had before, when it seemed I was visiting doctors and other practitioners every week and had plenty of regular updates. So there may be gaps in my blog reports. But I still get plenty of medical attention.
In addition to my primary care physician (PCP), Dr. Burton, who I generally see every six months, I have two oncologists. The radiation oncologist, Dr. Reshko, is the one who said I am in remission and NED, based on the recent CT and PET scan results. My primary oncologist, Dr. DeRidder, looked at my test results and said "remission" is not the word she would use because people tend to think it means they have no more cancer. What she said is the cancer is "controlled," and there is no evidence that anything is worse. It's a slightly more grounded way of looking at it, and I accept that.
So now that I am in the NED stage, instead of seeing Dr. DeRidder every three/four weeks as I have for the past year and a half, I will see her every six weeks. In between, however, at the three-week mark, I will see the nurse practitioner, just to make sure I feel ok (which I do) and not experiencing any new side effects. I will continue to go for labs regularly so they can keep track of my levels, and I will also continue to get my port flushed every few weeks. Oh, and my next CT scan is scheduled for Dec. 20. That's how we'll make sure that I am still NED and nothing new has flared up.
I want to reiterate how grateful I am to all who have prayed for me, sent me cards and texts and gifts, visited me and otherwise let me know that you're thinking of me. I have embraced it all, and I believe it has played a huge role in my progress. I feel good, I even like what I see in the mirror, and my hair is growing! I thank God for his care of me through the love of family and friends.
I'll update after the next CT scan.
10/18/24
Good news ... I AM IN REMISSION! Hallelujah, happy dance and praise the Lord!
I met with the radiation oncologist today and we reviewed my recent PET scan and CT scan reports. I was braced for troubling news because the language in the PET scan report said "new increasing size of lung nodule, needs reassessment." But Dr. Reshko said he assessed it, and there was NO NEW CANCER. In fact, what had been evident before is now barely there. What the scan does show is some scar tissue and/or inflammation in the area of a previous nodule that was successfully treated with radiosurgery, but in his words, "there is nothing there." He also gave me printouts of the scans from January and October for comparison. The bottom line, he said, is I am NED -- no evidence of (new) disease!
Here are his after-visit notes: "Fortunately, the PET scan showed no evidence of active disease and in fact shows interval improvement in the inflammation in the left lower lobe as well as the middle lobe. The treated left upper lobe nodule completely resolved. This is consistent with a complete response to SBRT. Ms. Bridges is doing very well clinically. Other than a cough, she is really doing quite well and is very functional. ... I am very happy with the outcome."
Hallelujah, happy dance and praise the Lord!
Does this mean my cancer has disappeared? Not entirely. Remission does not mean the cancer is cured; in fact, I have trace amounts of it still in my lungs and other places. Cancer cells can remain in the body for many years after treatment and there's a chance they could flare up again. But on this day, October 18, 2024, I AM IN REMISSION!
What it DOES mean is that the Tagrisso is working. Hallelujah, happy dance and praise the Lord! (Do I sound excited?) Tagrisso is the oral chemo tablet I've been taking for the past year as treatment for my cancer, and although it comes with a sobering list of side effects (including an impact on kidney function), its job is to slow or stop the growth of cancer cells.
Ironically, I received a letter from AstraZeneca, the maker of Tagrisso, just the other day stating that I am no longer eligible for the grant program that has partially paid for this expensive drug because they changed the eligibility requirement (from 500% at or below the federal poverty level to 300%) and I no longer meet the criteria. That, along with changes to Medicare benefits, means I may have a higher out-of-pocket cost, up to $2,000 per year. All things considered, that's not prohibitive, as long as I can spread it out through the year. Also, it's tax deductible, so that might help mitigate the expense.
In addition to the recent scans, I've also had two other medical visits: the podiatrist and the opthamologist. The podiatrist has been treating my Morton's neuroma, which is an irritating nerve disorder in my left foot. I also have another possible ingrown toenail that may need to be removed. As for the opthamologist, he pronounced my eyesight "stable" (one of my favorite words).
Overall, I am doing well medically and I feel pretty good, other than the usual fatigue that comes with the Tagrisso. The fight against cancer takes a lot out of you, as anyone who has battled against it or loves someone who has battled it knows. But I'm here for the fight and I give all glory and honor to God. And today, October 18, 2024, I AM IN REMISSION!
Hallelujah, happy dance and praise the Lord!
10/2/24
I visited my primary oncologist today, and there's a mix of both good news and concerning news.
First, the good news. According to the radiology report from the CT scan I had a couple of days ago, "for the most part, all previously seen lesions are stable or slightly smaller," and then goes on to say that this stability "is reassuring and suggests treated disease." From my perspective, that's GREAT news. I especially like the words "slightly smaller." The bottom line, says my oncologist, is that the Tagrisso oral treatment is working. Hallelujah!!
But the concerning news is that the report goes on to say that "there is one nodule noted inferiorly in the left upper lobe which appears to have enlarged. This may represent an active neoplastic process." Loosely translated, that means there's a possible new tumor. My oncologist has scheduled me for a deeper diagnostic test, a PET scan, which will require an injection of a material to light up the areas where any cancer exists. If the test reveals a new malignant area, I will likely need another round of radiation treatment targeted specifically to the area. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it.
That's not all. There was one small comment in the radiology report that gave me pause: "minimal multi-vessel coronary arthrosclerotic vascular calcification." I know that coronary means heart, but it was the word "arthrosclerotic" that caught my eye because my son's autopsy report revealed that he died from atherosclerosis. My oncologist immediately calmed my fear by saying it's related to my high cholesterol, for which I'm being treated. (Robert apparently didn't know he had cholesterol or coronary issues and was therefore not being treated for either.) Nevertheless, I dropped a note to my cardiologist to share my concern.
A little update on my creatinine level (kidney function): I visited the nephrologist (kidney doctor) who I was referred to, and he said my medical record indicated to him that "you are strong and you are a fighter." Not sure how he could discern that from reviewing the record, but I'll take it. He also said that instead of the standard range that is indicated for creatinine level (0.44 - 1.03), my "normal" range is 1.3 - 1.6, because it takes into consideration my age, high blood pressure and cancer. Therefore, my last reading of 1.52 falls within range and is "acceptable." That's a relief!
But then the nephrologist went on to say the record also indicated that I've had a decrease in kidney function since 2018, which, quite honestly, no one had ever said to me before or I would have asked "what are we going to do about it?" I put that question to the nephrologist, and he said we will continue to watch it, come back in four months, and if is above the the range, medication may be in order. Not what I wanted to hear. The last thing I want is another pill.
I also asked my oncologist about it, and she pulled up the graphic showing my creatinine level through the years and said the changes were so incremental that they were not likely to be spotted (or noted) by anyone except a nephrologist. In fact, the graph went up and down in a somewhat consistent manner from 2018 to 2023, when it took a sharp spike specifically as a result of the Tagrisso.
A decrease in kidney function is a side effect of Tagrisso, and it's definitely something that needs to be watched. But if I have to choose between a perfectly functioning kidney or a fight to keep this cancer at bay, I choose the fight. So we'll just keep watching and I'll keep drinking lots of water to help keep my kidneys flushed.
The PET scan is scheduled for Oct. 16. My next update will likely be when I have some results from that.
9/14/24
My mother used to say "no news is good news." And that's how I feel about yesterday's (Sept. 13) visit with my primary oncologist, Dr. DeRidder. At one point she pronounced me "OK," and then by the end of our conversation she said "I think you've done really well."
I went over all my "littles" with her (including a little bit of reflux along with sporadic coughing) and we reviewed my recent tests (MRI, bone density), and other than increased fracture risk due to osteoporosis, my journey is on a stable track. My next CT scan is scheduled for Sept. 30, and I will see Dr. D again on Oct. 2.
And my creatinine level (kidney function)? Well, the measure has taken a dive, which is a good thing. In August, it was 1.88, high enough to trigger an appointment with a nephrologist (Sept. 24). But my recent blood work shows it's gone down to 1.22. Anything at or below 1.03 is good. I'm still just a bit above range, though, so perhaps the kidney doctor can shed some light on the recent fluctuations.
I got a nice gift from AstraZeneca, the pharmaceutical company that makes my Tagrisso (oral treatment tablet). I'm nearing the one-year mark for being on the cancer-fighting drug and recently renewed my grant application to help pay for the medication for another year. In return, they sent me a really nice lunchbox containing a water bottle for hot and cold beverages, a cloth mask, a pill box and an interesting cookbook called "The Cancer Wellness Cookbook." I'm not much of a cook, but these look like fairly easy recipes. I'll have to try a few.
The lunchbox also contained a booklet about Tagrisso, which included this tidbit: "Tagrisso is a targeted therapy -- not immunotherapy or standard chemotherapy." It also affirms that the most common side effects of Tagrisso are low red and white blood cell counts, low platelet counts, diarrhea, rash, bone or joint pain, brittle fingernails, dry skin, mouth sores, tiredness and cough. With the exception of mouth sores, I've experienced all of these, so it goes a long way to explain why I so often feel sluggish and as of late, have to stay near a bathroom. BUT, as long as the cancer is blocked from growing and spreading, which is what Tagrisso does, then I can tolerate a few side effects.
My next visit to the oncologist is Oct. 2, and unless something significant happens before that, it will likely be my next update.
9/4/24
No sooner did I say "no substantial change in my health" than change started to happen. Nothing major -- just a little incontinence here, a little back pain there, and added doses of fatigue and coughing -- just enough to remind me that I'm not 100%. I've also lost about seven pounds, which from my standpoint is not bad. My appetite has dropped off and I simply don't eat as much as before, although I do tend to nibble. But my oncologist says if I lose more than 10 pounds we have to start looking into what's going on.
One major change is my creatinine level. This is a measure of kidney function, and unfortunately, mine has been flagged as problematic. The main culprit is the Tagrisso, the oral chemo tablet that I take daily. A drop in kidney function is a side effect and not necessarily grounds for discontinuing the medication, but like everything else, it has to be watched.
Here's the in-the-weeds detail: The creatinine level is measured by blood test, and the normal range is 0.44 to 1.03. Mine is 1.88, with incremental upticks from 1.36 in May. Once it got past 1.6 (August), it triggered an automatic "stage 3 kidney disease" alert in my medical chart, and that's what got my oncologist's attention. She has referred me to a nephrologist (kidney doctor) and that appointment is set for Sept. 24. It will probably mean I have to start taking another pill to offset the Tagrisso. But the bottom line always for me is fighting the cancer progression. So if the Tagrisso is doing that (which it has for nearly a year now), then I'll add another pill to my daily regimen of other prescriptions and supplements.
My next appointment with the oncologist is Friday, Sept. 13. I'll post an update after that.
8/24/24
As one friend reminded me: no news is good news! There has been no substantial change in my health since my last update, so I won't linger here. Just a couple of quick points:
First, I met with the dietician, Lynn, who recommended that I add a Metamucil gummy to my daily regimen to help move things along, if you get my drift. It's been about a week now and that seems to have made a difference. Lynn also suggested adding more fiber and fluid to my diet. That's an ongoing process.
Second, I met with the nurse practitioner, Kelly, who pronounced me as "doing great." I still get a little lightheadedness (in fact, I'm having a bout right now), I find myself fatigued more than I like, and my fingernails have gone completely brittle. But Kelly suggested these are side effects from my oral cancer drug (Tagrisso) that may come and go with time. I consider them minor compared to some of the side effects I could be having (I still have my hair!) as long as the Tagrisso is fighting the battle against cancer progression.
My next appointment with the oncologist is Sept. 13. I'll probably post another update after that.
8/13/24
My cancer journey started a year ago this month. In the space of two weeks during the heat of August 2023, I went from reporting my shortness of breath and lower back pain to my primary care physician (PCP), to chest X-ray, to pulmonologist, to CT scan, to biopsy, to PET scan, to "you have metastatic lung cancer, stage 4 ... it's treatable, but not curable."
The easy-breezy retirement life I'd been planning for so long was upended all at once. I went from sleeping late and being one of the "ladies who lunch" to back-to-back radiation treatments and doctor appointments. I'm grateful for the speed with which Riverside Health System jumped into taking care of me; I have a wonderfully compassionate care team. Good insurance doesn't hurt (Medicare and Anthem supplement). The pace is a bit slower now, but still requires a great deal of attention. It's been no easy ride for hubby, either, who sprung into action as chauffeur and second set of ears. But he never ever complains; in fact, he's quite good at bringing me ice cream.
Just this month alone, I've seen my oncologist and my PCP, had a lumbar MRI and bone density test, got my six-month Covid booster, and met with a new podiatrist. And this month hasn't even reached the halfway point! But I also had a great time tuning into the Olympics. What a great show Paris put on ... and Team USA rocked the joint across the board!
Here's a summary of all that's happened since my last post:
So the bottom line for all this? The cancer is at bay, but aging is probably taking more of a toll on me than anything else. My goal is to fight back where I can, but live with that sobering reality successfully, for as long as God will allow.
7/13/24
Yes, it's been awhile. About six weeks, in fact. That's because hubby and I have been on the move. It's been a mix of good news and challenging developments. Overall, I fared well from a health standpoint, although I think I picked up a bug in one or more of the three airports we spent time in on the way home (no, I foolishly did not wear my mask most of the time; lesson learned.)
We spent a month in the Los Angeles area visiting my mom, who is 91 and has dementia. She's reached a stage where she is no longer ambulatory and can do little for herself, but she lives comfortably at home with 24-hour care. In addition to hanging out at her bedside, we also filled in for my brother and the other caregivers as they took a little time off here and there. It took Mom a few days to grasp who I am, and even then her recall had to be refreshed almost daily. But she looks good and is visually alert, talks a little, still feeds herself and is very well cared for.
I think I lost a few pounds at Mom's house because she has stairs (her bed is now downstairs, of course). I could manage a handful of trips up and down each day, but I had to take my time and stop to catch my breath. There were also a few loose ends around the house that I helped tie up, cell phone in hand. The wrought-iron gate got repaired, the carpets cleaned, the driveway motion light replaced, a plumbing problem fixed and the air conditioning adjusted. Even then, we still managed to visit a couple of people -- and go to a Dodgers game on Father's Day.
Then we drove up to the San Jose area to spend a week visiting three of my other siblings and a couple of friends. Although it was great seeing everyone, there were some sobering developments. One sibling has been diagnosed with both Parkinson's and early Alzheimer's. One of my best friends is in a nursing home in a diabetic coma, prognosis uncertain. Another relative is dealing with some deep emotional issues. The bottom line? There's a lot to pray for.
While recovering from jet lag (and this bug I picked up), I hustled to get to my appointments this past week, including a port flush and blood draw for labs, a follow-up visit with the radiation oncologist, a PET/CT scan and a routine visit with my primary oncologist. The favored watchword with everyone is "stable."
My labs were about the same, which is good news: low red and white blood cells (but not dangerously low), normal platelets, normal hemoglobin and everything else on track. The creatinine level (a measure of kidney function) kicked up a bit (from 1.36 to 1.44), but again, it's not in the danger zone.
The PET/CT scan report used a lot of big words like "development of airspace consolidation with a degree of traction bronchiectasis anteriorly within the left upper lobe compatible with patient's post treatment/post radiation change," which boils down to growth of scar tissue. The radiation oncologist said that would explain the occasional "pin pricks" in my upper left breast area. The pricks are neither long nor unbearably painful, but typical of scar tissue development.
My two favorite phrases in the scan report were "no new regions of pulmonary nodularity otherwise demonstrated" and "no findings to suggest disease progression within the chest [and] no noncontrast CT findings to suggest metastatic disease within the abdomen/pelvis." Praise the Lord! Happy dance!
As my oncologist, Dr. DeRidder, put it "I think you're doing great ... Tagrisso is doing exactly what we want it to do."
Now, having said that, she and I did have a good discussion about "the littles" that I deal with daily ... a little fatigue and shortness of breath, a little lightheadedness, a little cough, a little constipation, and lately, a little rash, and a little runny nose with blood. My fingernails have also gotten quite brittle. Some of these side effects are from the lung cancer itself, but others are from the Tagrisso (my daily oral chemo tablet). The oncologist wants me to come back again in three weeks to see how much some of the side effects have resolved once I shake the airport bug.
In general, I feel pretty good, although I have spells of sluggishness that require me to take a nap. Like right now!
5/27/24
I hope you enjoyed your Memorial Day, if in fact you got the day off. We've had quite a bit of rain so I'm glad we didn't have anything specific planned.
Other than a routine port flush, I didn't have any medical appointments last week, and it looks like I won't have any for at least another month. That's great news. I'm feeling pretty good and aiming to keep it that way for as long as God allows.
Yes, I still have my issues to watch (coughing, backache, fatigue, creatinine levels), but even those aren't enough to keep me from enjoying life. In fact, hubby and I drove up to Delaware last week to witness the graduation of my cousin Arianna from the University of Delaware, with a bachelor's degree. She's pre-med, so she'll be returning to school after a gap year to get her master's degree. It was great to see her and other members of my family. The car trip was long (about six hours each way) and we hit a bit of traffic, but I weathered it without too much difficulty.
I found two more specific message boards -- EGFR Resisters and Tagrisso Patients -- that have been very comforting to me because the people know EXACTLY what I'm going through, and more importantly, they speak the language. These groups primarily consist of people who have the same diagnosis I have and they have been on Tagrisso for several years. They are, for the most part, not only surviving but thriving. While side effects and other details differ, their comments have given me so much encouragement. I confess that I didn't much believe in message boards because I thought it would be a lot of complainers, but that's not the case at all. They understand the issues and have very constructive advice.
Because I'm feeling good and don't have any appointments coming up for awhile, I will probably update a little less often. Maybe every 10 days or so. I don't want you thinking something is wrong because you're not hearing from me. I've made a personal commitment to be transparent about this journey because people have made it clear that they want to follow how I'm doing. I appreciate the love and prayers. God bless you!
5/17/24
I didn't have any medical appointments this week, thank goodness, and I continue to feel pretty good. But I do have a couple of lingering issues that I have to watch:
1) Ongoing cough -- Every now and then I get into a coughing fit. Not often, but often enough (several times a day). I can be watching TV, laying in bed, talking on the phone, taking a shower or even sitting at the dinner table, when suddenly I'm hacking away. Medicated cough drops help soothe my throat and hours will go by before another cough ekes out, but it's an annoying reminder that my lungs are in distress.
2) Back pain -- Again, it's not often, and it's not intense, but at least once a day I have to take Tylenol because my upper left back area starts to ache. It just started about a month ago, so the oncologist said we'll monitor it until time for the next round of scans (July) to make sure nothing specific is lurking there to cause the pain.
3) Creatinine levels -- We've been here before (see January 2024 in Archives). My lab work shows my creatinine levels, which are a measure of kidney function remain "stable" around the 1.3 mark. That's slightly above the 1-point "normal" mark but lower that it was earlier this year, when it was lingering around 1.65. But the fact that it's persistently above the normal range has triggered an automatic reference on my "active patient problem list" as Stage 3 kidney disease. Great. Just what I need, another staged medical issue. The main cause of this out-of-range creatinine level is the Tagrisso, the oral chemo tablet that I take daily to treat my cancer. The treatment is working, thank God, but kidney drama is one of its side effects. My oncologist doesn't think it's enough to change my Tagrisso treatment, for which I'm relieved. But I continue to consume as much water and other fluids as I can each day, typically around 50 or more ounces, to help flush out the toxins.
None of those three issues described above, by themselves, are huge. But they are nagging enough to keep watch, and that's what the oncologist and I are doing. I also have my ongoing fatigue and shortness of breath, but both are expected and somewhat managed.
I was able to find a Mayo Clinic message board specific to Tagrisso users, and it's been both informational and uplifting. Since the FDA approved the drug in 2015 as targeted treatment for lung cancer patients with EGFR mutations, lots of people have experienced smaller tumors, longer life expectancies and improved quality of life than what they had been told at diagnosis or what they anticipated. That's encouragement for me. I continue to trust that God has the Grand Plan!
5/11/24
"I think you're doing great."
Those were the words of my oncologist when I saw her on Friday (5/10) for my regular monthly visit. The symptoms I had after last month's visit -- a persistent cough, dry mouth and a few other nagging issues -- have all abated, thanks to a weeklong treatment of antibiotics and steroids. I still have an occasional cough, but it's not every few minutes like it was before. And I still have occasional back pain (easily treated with Tylenol). But not much else.
What we agree is that I will continue to have a few side effects related to both the cancer and its treatment, my daily oral chemo tablet called Tagrisso. But so far the symptoms have been manageable and fairly short-lived. That's why she says I'm "doing great." She has scheduled me for more labs on May 21 and new scans on July 9 (see Treatment Schedule). By then I'll know more about how the cancer is responding to treatment.
And with that, I'm not going to dwell on much else. I feel good (da da da da da da da) and I like it that way. Your continued prayers and notes and cards and visits and gifts and texts and other forms of encouragement all combine to lift me up and contribute to my well-being. Thank you ... and I am so grateful to you for following me on this journey.
5/4/24
This past week was probably one of the best ones I've had in awhile. I felt pretty good for the most part and I had just one medical appointment, with my cardiologist. He said I don't have to come back for another year unless there are major changes in my blood pressure. It was 124/78 the day I was in his office, which is quite normal for me (with medication).
So why do I have a cardiologist? Well, quite honestly, I think it gets to the heart of my cancer (see what I did there?). One evening in September 2022, hubby looked at me across the dinner table and asked "why is your left eye so red?" I thought maybe I was just tired, but when I looked in the mirror it frightened me. I'd never seen that much red in my eye, even in my long-ago drinking days when it was not unusual for me to wake up bloodshot and in need of some drops. I thought maybe I had unknowingly injured myself, but I couldn't figure how I'd do that without pain.
We went straight to the emergency room, where my blood pressure clocked in at 185/95 (or thereabouts). The ER doctor told me a blood vessel had burst in my eye, and had it not been for that and my quick trip to the ER, I'd be looking at a stroke or a heart attack. He also said that blood vessel could have burst anywhere in my body and I wouldn't have known it. I had an EKG and chest X-ray, neither of which yielded any abnormal result. I was referred to a cardiologist for follow-up. On my first visit, he changed my blood pressure medication and it's been working fine since then.
So why do I tie my cardiologist with my later diagnosis of lung cancer? Because I have come to believe that the broken blood vessel was my warning shot that something was seriously wrong in my body. The basic EKG and chest X-ray didn't reveal anything at the time and I certainly had no reason to suspect anything else or press for any deeper testing. But less than six months later, I developed back pain in my left rhomboid area. After a few sessions of physical therapy (which only briefly relieved the pain) and dealing with elder relative issues, I finally went to my primary care doctor in late July 2023. It was she who recognized that my newly developed shortness of breath was a red flag and sent me THAT SAME DAY for another chest X-ray; this time, less than a year later, it was "abnormal."
The X-ray led to a CT scan, which led to a PET scan, which led to a biopsy, which led to a cancer diagnosis. And here we are. But I believe it all started with that broken blood vessel, an abnormal event that didn't yield any abnormal readings in the couple of tests taken at the time.
Knowing what I know now, I'd say any time your body does something that doesn't normally happen, get a medical evaluation immediately. And even if tests comes back "normal," ask for the next test. Because elevated blood pressure and broken blood vessels and new areas of pain and shortness of breath are NOT normal. Like Evillene from "The Wiz," we "don't wanna hear no bad news" so we don't go further when we hear the word "normal." But I will never know if digging a little deeper back in September 2022 might have led me to finding something sooner that wasn't Stage 4 and wasn't metastatic. Sigh.
The only medical appointment I have next week is to go in for labs on Tuesday (5/7) in advance of my next regular visit with my oncologist (5/10). If nothing else, I'll at least check in about how I'm feeling. Thank you for your continued prayers.
4/27/24
I'm happy to report improvement in most of the symptoms I was experiencing several days ago. Thanks to my quick-acting patient care facilitator (Corrine) for getting me in to see the nurse practitioner a week ago (4/19), I was able to get an antibiotic and a steroid that cleared up a lot of discomfort.
My cough has subsided substantially. I still get an occasional hack, but nowhere near where it was a couple of weeks ago. The sore throat and dry mouth are pretty much gone. My humidifier is humming away. I'm still working on the constipation, which isn't as bad as it was before but also not as "regular" as it ought to be, if you get my drift.
I still have a little bit of back pain, but Tylenol seems to take care of it quickly. I usually take it once a day. And my energy level is still low, although not all the time. Sometime I get up a good head of steam with laundry or housework or errands, and then my body says "slow your roll, girlfriend!"
One other little thing: in the past week I've lost five pounds. That's not a bad thing, but I have to keep an eye on it. My oncologist says if I lose more than 10 pounds then we have to start looking at reasons why, but a fluctuation of a few pounds shouldn't indicate a problem. My appetite is pretty good, although I find that I get full faster, therefore I'm not eating as much as before. But I'm definitely eating!
How do I feel? The usual, which is fatigue and shortness of breath. But I can't complain. There are many who are going through much worse. In fact, I ran across this article about a fellow journalist who is being transparent about his cancer journey (I've also added it to the Articles page). https://www.pilotonline.com/2024/04/26/wtkr-anchor-kurt-williams-spreads-cancer-awareness-just-as-he-begins-radiation-treatment-himself/
I have one medical appointment next week, and that is a six-month follow-up with my cardiologist. Unless he tells me something earth-shattering, which I don't expect, I'll update at the end of the week. Thank you for your continued prayers.
4/19/24
I thought I'd gotten through a whole week without medical appointments, but instead some ongoing medical issues (which may or may not be cancer-related) began to escalate and I ended up in the doctor's office this morning (Friday).
For the past couple of weeks, I've been troubled by an annoying cough. It's a chest cough, but it's not painful and it's non-productive (meaning I'm not coughing up anything), and I haven't been wheezing. I've been mostly treating the cough with medicated lozenges, and that seems to help for a while. I have not been running a fever. My home Covid test was negative.
But I've also been waking up every morning with a sore throat, for which I occasionally take Dayquil HBP. I thought with the combination of those two conditions, plus intermittent dry mouth and periodic back pain, I'd better call the patient care facilitator, Corrine. (Oh, and there's also a little matter of constipation, for which I chewed some Senokot gummies and that seemed to clear that out.) So I called Corrine on Thursday (4/18), and God bless her, she worked me into today's schedule to meet with the nurse practitioner.
NP Kelly said it sounds like I may have a little acid reflux, although after I looked up the symptoms I'm not quite sure I agree. I don't have burning pains in my chest, for example, and I don't have problems eating or lying down. Quite the opposite! But, as she pointed out, symptoms also include a dry cough, a morning sore throat and a dry mouth. Hmmm. She recommended I consider Prilosec, an over-the-counter treatment.
She also gave me two prescriptions: one for an antibiotic (doxycycline) and one for a steroid (methylprednisolone). The antibiotic should address any infection I may have (which is my guess for the accumulation of symptoms) and the steroid will address any inflammation and other issues. I should notice a change in 7-10 days. She also recommended I start using my humidifier again, which I used through most of the winter but just haven't turned it on lately.
How do I feel? Mostly fatigued and a little short of breath. I had two lunch dates this week, and even I noticed that I wasn't up to my usual energy, which has been modified a lot since onset of cancer diagnosis. But I don't feel sick, which I consider a blessing, and people continue to tell me I "look good." I'm excited that a dear friend is coming to visit next week, and I know that will go a long way in lifting my spirits in the face of all these nagging symptoms and added medications.
I don't have any medical appointments scheduled for next week -- unless you count getting my nails done! :) In any case, I'll update next week on where things stand with this latest round of ancillary issues.
4/12/24
In a nutshell: the consultation with Dr. Ryan Gentzler, an oncologist at UVA Cancer Center who is also a professor at the UVA Medical School and whose research interests are lung cancer and targeted therapy, went well. He basically summed everything up as "stay the course ... I wouldn't change anything." He also said he would "not be inclined" to call the "schmutz" that keeps showing up in my scans as any indication of new cancer.
We talked about a lot of things, but here are the nine specific questions I asked him, with his answers summarized.
1) What do you see in the scans?
He said he saw the same things that my primary oncologist (Dr. DeRidder) and the radiologist saw. A review of all my scans clearly indicates a shrinkage in the one new "spot" that was detected in January and treated in March with radiosurgery (SBRT), and also shows that growth of new cancer cells is "minimal." The inflammation or infection (what Dr. DeRidder calls "schmutz") that keeps showing up as a shadowy presence could be related to the Tagrisso (my oral chemo tablet that I take daily), or could even be an after-effect of radiation, or could be left over from the Keytruda chemotherapy I had last year. But he stated very clearly that "I agree with Dr. DeRidder; I would not be inclined to call it new cancer."
2) Are we on the right treatment plan?
Yes. The Tagrisso is an oral chemo treatment that is targeted at lung cancer, specifically the kind that has certain abnormal epidermal growth factor receptor (EGFR) genes. That's what I have. My cancer was caused by a mutated EGFR gene called Exon 19. Dr. Gentzler said it is not inherited or passed on, which was a concern I had. Tagrisso inhibits the growth process of the mutated cancer cells, but what it doesn't do is make the cancer go away completely. I am going to be living with it for the rest of my life. In that sense, he did a good job of managing my expectations. But I still believe in a miracle-working God.
3) What would you do differently if I were your patient?
Nothing different, at least not now. There may come a time when I would need to switch to a new treatment, but for now he would "stay the course." He would not recommend going back on Keytruda because that is more for smoking-related lung cancers (I had one Keytruda treatment before we knew my EGFR results).
4) What do you think about Tagrisso?
It is the standard of care right now for my type of cancer. It was not available 20 years ago, so in that sense it is fairly new, but been around long enough to measure its effectiveness. There is a range of about 18 months to three years when the effectiveness of Tagrisso begins to wear off, in which case we'd have to develop a new standard of care, most likely going back to infused chemo treatment. But for now, Tagrisso is far better than (infused) chemo because of its convenience.
5) Would you recommend a clinical trial?
UVA has connections with NIH, Johns Hopkins, Sloan-Kettering and all the major cancer hospitals, and he is not aware of any other EGFR-specific trials right now. But if or when the Tagrisso stops working, there may be a new standard of care available by then.
6) What should I anticipate as far as the future state of my health?
Right now I appear to be doing well ... no hair loss, no brittle nails, no rash, no nausea or vomiting or diarrhea. Those are all good signs. Keep doing what I'm doing, but if I do notice changes, such as increased shortness of breath or fatigue, I need to let my oncologist know. I do have a maddening cough that has developed lately, but so far Dr. DeRidder is not too concerned about it. It's not uncommon, she said. I suck on throat lozenges for relief. If new "spots" show up in future scans or if the major areas of cancer don't continue to shrink (with the Tagrisso), then I would likely be looking at more radiation.
7) If I was your mother or sister or wife, what would be your next step?
He'd be doing exactly the same thing: keeping an eye on the effectiveness of the Tagrisso and monitoring any changing side effects.
8) Do you recommend specific message boards or support groups?
He's heard people talk about a patient advocacy group called EGFR Resistors that he thinks might be helpful.
9) What do you think of acupuncture?
He described it as "adjunctive," which means it's more of a supplement for pain control and muscle relaxation.
I met with my primary oncologist, Dr. DeRidder, the next day (April 10), and she had not yet seen a report from Dr. Gentzler. But she was clearly pleased that he agreed with her prescribed treatment plan for me. I'm glad she sent me for a "second opinion," and I feel much more at ease now about the course of action being taken in my case. I wasn't uncomfortable before, but it never hurts to hear someone else say "you're doing the right thing." To God be the glory!
4/6/24
I had a CT scan yesterday (April 5) as a follow-up to the five radiosurgery treatments I completed in March, but it yielded very little "new" information. It will mostly serve as an update for the oncologist I'm seeing next week at the UVA Cancer Center, Dr. Ryan Gentzler. The goal is for him to provide a second opinion (although it's really a third, not counting that my primary oncologist and my radiation oncologist are on the same Riverside Health team) to the diagnosis and treatment of my lung cancer. It's more of a consolation for me, to make sure everything is on the right track. I believe that we are, but it will be good to hear it from an "outside" source, so to speak, who doesn't have a dog (or a patient) in the fight.
As for the interpretation of yesterday's scan ... here's part of what the radiologist had to say: "Unusual appearance of the lungs, with multiple findings that were metabolic active on a prior exam from 01/31/2024. Some of the nodules in the left upper lobe have clearly decreased in size from the prior exam. The findings in the right lower lobe are relatively stable. There is bronchiectasis and scarring in the left lower lobe, and a nodular appearance of the left main fissure. Overall, an inflammatory or infectious process or a neoplastic process are possibilities. In summary, some of the findings in the lungs have improved, while others are stable or minimally worsened. No pathologic adenopathy. Chest port in place."
The good news? His findings are consistent with what Dr. Reshko (radiation oncologist) told me after my latest treatments. The left upper nodule -- the "spot" -- is not gone as I'd hoped, but it is clearly smaller. Also, the rest of my cancer is "stable." It would be nice if it were lessened, but I'll take stable. I'm hoping the UVA oncologist can shed light on the "inflammatory or infectious process or a neoplastic process," which I've heard before but without specificity, at least enough to satisfy me.
My UVA appointment is Tuesday (Apr. 9) and I meet with my primary oncologist on Wednesday for a debriefing of sorts. My thanks to all who gave me some really good questions to ask. I hope to post an update by Thursday, April 11.
(Click on the 2024 and 2023 Archives tab for previous posts.)
3/30/24
The week was full and went by quickly. I'm now a year older (version 7.3, as one friend put it) and grateful to be here.
For my birthday, I decided to do something I'd been threatening to do for many years -- dress up and play Diana Ross! A friend of mine, named Diane, has a birthday the day after mine. We typically go out for tea, but this year she suggested we have a joint tea party at her house. During our conversation, I mentioned that our birthdays are just a few days after Diana Ross (March 26), who was turning 80 this year. I said maybe we could lift a toast to her, and somehow a toast turned into a performance. We roped in another friend, Briget, who is also a Diana Ross fan, and voila, we had the Supremes! We decided to do one song -- "Stop In The Name of Love" -- and that's what you see in the video above. We had an absolute blast, even though the performance itself got off to a bumpy start and the choreography was a bit out of sync. I'm including the video on this page so my weekly reports are not all gloomy details about my treatment but show my silly side -- and I do have one! I feel pretty good, most people tell me I look good, and I've had very few side effects. To God be the glory!
This week I had my final two radiosurgery (SBRT) treatments. The first one on Monday (3/25) was a little rough, but I got through it with prayer and Elevation Worship. Afterward, I met with Dr. Reshko, the radiation oncologist, who excitedly showed me scans indicating that the targeted "spot" was much smaller than before radiation. Much smaller? I was expecting obliteration! He seemed surprised that had been my expectation, at which point I whipped out my notebook and reminded him that it was HE who'd said the spot would be "wiped out." Oh no, he said, that's not what he meant (even though I had it clearly written in my notes; people forget I was a career journalist).
First of all, he explained, a targeted area is never really wiped out, but can be shrunk and appear as a ghost (words he did NOT use before). Secondly, he said the treatment is still working over the next few weeks and even the ghost that shows up on the scans now can get even smaller. The next day, when I saw my primary oncologist Dr. DeRidder, she assuaged my disappointment by saying a spot never really disappears but turns into scar tissue. Okay ... I accept that.
The day of my final radiation treatment (March 28) was much more cheerful. This time I chose Lauren Daigle for my musical interlude, and the treatment seemed to go much faster. My arms started to ache a little bit, but not nearly as much as on previous days. At the end of treatment, all the staff gathered and asked me to ring the bell (photo above). They applauded, hugged me, and gave me a certificate to commemorate completion of that leg of my journey. It was really quite touching.
On Friday (March 29) I had a Prolia injection in the morning for my osteoporosis, which I've had for a couple of decades now. In the afternoon, I had a follow-up appointment with my optometrist to check up on the YAG procedure I had last month. He said my vision is much improved (I could actually read the letters at the bottom of the chart) but I still have to wear glasses for my astigmatism and myopia (nearsightedness). My prescription has changed, so I ordered a new pair.
I am still seeking help from you in advance of my April 9 appointment with the UVA Cancer Center for a second opinion on my diagnosis and treatment plan. I need you to help me think of questions so I can take full advantage of the consultation. What should I be focused on -- treatment(s), possible clinical trials, etc.? Send your suggestions via the Questions & Comments tab or by regular email.
And that, dear ones, is the end of my fabulous birthday week and the end of the month of March. I'll update next weekend.
3/22/24
Three down, just two more to go -- and none too soon, from my perspective.
It's been a rugged week. On Monday (3/18) I had my second radiosurgery treatment, which went much better than the first one. This time I didn't cough, even though I forgot to take the suggested cough drop beforehand, and my arms didn't ache as badly from holding them above my head. The procedure was about 10 minutes shorter than the first go-round, so I thought everything went pretty well and the next treatment should be a breeze. I went home afterward and took my usual nap, then felt well enough later to do a couple of loads of laundry and even cook dinner.
Then came Thursday and the third treatment (3/21), when the space-age machine started behaving like the typical toddler. I overheard the technicians talk about "angle checks" and "gantry rotations" and adding more inflation to the pads propping up my elbows and moving my hips from one side to the other. So it took a little longer to get everything adjusted and staying that way -- all the while with my arms above my head and my chest bare. I felt like I was on one of those racks from the old Vincent Price black-and-white scary movies of my childhood. At least this time I remembered my cough drop so I didn't set off the instruments with an unexpected tickle in my throat, but toward the end of the procedure I felt tears welling up. I started praying that the Lord would help me get through it. I got up from the table feeling slightly lightheaded and very tired. Hubby took me straight home and I napped for about two hours, then woke up to take a couple of Tylenol because the muscles across my upper back were aching.
Two more treatments to go. I'll meet with Dr. Reshko (the radiation oncologist) after the fourth session on Monday (3/25), and then I'll see my primary oncologist (Dr. DeRidder) on Tuesday, so I'm hoping they'll both tell me that the radiosurgery worked and they were able to zap that new spot into oblivion and we can get back to concentrating on that nasty mass tumor at the base of my left lung and scattered "schmutz" throughout my chest area. My daily God-sent chemo tablet (Tagrisso) is what's fighting off the encroaching bad cells now. At $13,000 a month, I would never have been able to afford it without a grant from the drug company (AstraZeneca) that makes it.
In the meantime, I'd like some help from you. In advance of my April 9 appointment with the UVA Cancer Center for a second opinion on my diagnosis and treatment plan, I need you to help me think of some questions so I can take full advantage of the consultation. What should I be focused on? Send your suggestions via the Questions & Comments tab or by regular email.
Also, I've started hearing more about cancer vaccines, which sounds like the next big breakthrough in cancer prevention. Here's an article about a doctor being recognized for the work in that direction. Her research is focused on mutations in cancer tumor cells. https://www.cnn.com/2024/02/20/health/cancer-vaccines-catherine-wu-scn
3/16/24
One down, four to go!
I had my first radiosurgery treatment on Thursday (March 14), and from all I was told and witnessed, it went well. The precision laser treatment consists of four "arcs," each representing a pass over my chest to administer the radiation targeted specifically to the new "spot" discovered in January on my upper left lung. I could see the green laser beam that criss-crossed my bare chest to mark the spot, but I didn't feel anything during the treatment.
There was one little hiccup, so to speak. After each arc, the technicians came in to make sure I was still properly positioned, with my arms over my head and my body perfectly straight. But between the third and fourth arc, I had to cough. I've had an intermittent cough for awhile now, and it's usually very brief. But this one lasted a few seconds, and I could feel my whole body shaking. I also saw the measurements on the screen across the room flash orange. The technicians paused everything and rushed in to make sure I was okay. Mike said the cough threw the measurements off by "a centimeter or two," but the oncologist (Dr. Reshko) and physicist (Dr. Bailey) supervising the procedure were able to make the right "adjustment" and the fourth arc was successfully completed. Mike suggested next time I take a cough drop prior to the procedure.
The technicians are great. All the while they're saying encouraging phrases like "you're doing great," and narrating what's going on. They even asked me what music I preferred to have played during the treatment. For this session, I chose Diana Ross. (She's been on my mind a lot because I'm a lifelong fan -- at least 60 years -- and she'll turn 80 on March 26). At the end of the treatment the whole team applauded! It was very affirming, even though I felt like my cough had thrown them off a little. They're probably used to that, though.
Afterward, I thought I felt fine and was ready to go out for breakfast. But hubby took one look at me and said I should wait a few minutes. So we sat in the waiting room, where I had a chance to read an actual newspaper! It's so seldom you see a print newspaper these days, so it pleased me to see one in the waiting room. When I finally got in the car, I felt a little woozy and was glad hubby rightly noticed I needed to take it slow. We came home, and after a light breakfast I promptly fell asleep for a couple of hours.
On Friday I felt pretty good and went out to get my nails done -- those who know me well know how important this is to me! Hubby is usually my chauffeur, but this time I drove myself and took advantage of the occasion to run around a bit: Hallmark, Home Goods, Publix and Fresh Market. The weather was spectacular, but I quickly realized that I was feeling fatigued and drove my little happy self home, where I took another nap.
I have two more treatments next week (see Treatment Schedule page). I'll update then.
3/7/24
Hallelujah!
I'm relieved to report that I have a radiation schedule (although tentative) and a date for my consultation with the
University of Virginia (UVA) Cancer Center for a consultation/second opinion.
This is the second week I've gone without a single medical appointment, but it was not without me working the phones. On Wednesday, I heard from Mike at Riverside Radiation Oncology who told me that Dr. Reshko, the radiation oncologist, approved the SBRT treatment plan. The plan is laid out in a document that's about as close to Greek as it gets so I won't try to decipher it here. The only part I kinda/sorta understood is "SBRT left upper lobe lung 5000 cGy in 5 fractions." That means the five-part treatment is targeted to the recently discovered new "spot" in my left lung, which Dr. Reshko has said previously should be "completely wiped out."
Mike said I am "tentatively" scheduled to go in on Wednesday (March 13) for a "dry run," primarily to make sure the spaceship-like SBRT machine is lined up according to the specific measurements determined by the imaging I took a couple of weeks ago. The only reason the date is tentative is because he was waiting to hear back from one of the peer review partners, but he expects that in a day or two.
The treatment itself should start on Thursday (March 14), and continue on Mondays and Thursdays for five sessions. I have posted the dates on the Treatment Schedule page.
The other big news of the week is that I now have a consultation date -- April 9 -- with the UVA Cancer Center for the second opinion recommended by my primary oncologist, Dr. DeRidder. They are going to send me a "welcome packet." Interesting. The journey continues.
3/1/24
It's my birthday month!
And that, my friends, is the extent of my news for this week (she said with tongue firmly embedded in cheek).
For the first time in at least a month, I went a full week without a single medical appointment -- no blood work, no port flush, no heart-to-heart with an oncologist -- although I did make a couple of calls to get updates on what's coming next.
There are two significant events on the horizon. First, I should start radiation treatments soon to target the new "spot" discovered a few weeks ago in my upper left lung zone. The operative word here is "soon." The radiation oncologist, Dr. Reshko, has recommended a "high dose/small area" regimen of five treatments. In his words, "the nodule should be completely wiped out." Ah, but there's the rub (pun intended).
I thought the treatment would be similar to what I had last August when my cancer was first diagnosed and I was experiencing a fair amount of back pain. But this time around he's recommending a "radiosurgery procedure" called SBRT (Stereotactic Body Radiotherapy), a precise, high-dose form of radiation therapy that treats cancer in just one to five treatments, spaced a few days apart. For me, he is recommending five treatments. This procedure requires very precise measurements and has to be "peer-reviewed" by a partnership team of physicists and oncologists from Riverside Health Systems (my primary provider), University of Virginia Medical Center and Chesapeake Regional Hospital. Whoa!
So this explains why I don't have a schedule yet for the treatments. As I said before, the team has to review and evaluate all the images acquired from the CT SIM and basically double-check that the measurements are correct and that Dr. Reshko's recommendation for five high-dose treatments fits with what was observed on the images. I'm told it may be another week or so before a schedule is determined.
As for the other update, about my primary oncologist's recommendation for a second opinion by the UVA Medical Center, the appointment for that is related to the peer review of my CT SIM and all my previous scans. I'm not likely to hear about that either for another week.
All this adds up to a few more days of no medical appointments. I continue to take my daily oral chemo tablet, Tagrisso, and I continue to feel okay. I think I'll proceed with my plan to treat myself every day this month leading up to my birthday on March 30. It'll be No. 73. No benchmark other than I expect to be here for it -- and for that I thank God.
2/23/23
It's been a full week, but here's the heart of the matter: My medical oncologist, Dr. DeRidder, is referring me to the University of Virginia (UVA) Medical Center for a second opinion about the progress of my cancer and how to proceed with treatment (beyond my upcoming round of radiation treatments). I have a smattering of "small bilateral nodular opacities" that when viewed on my latest PET scan (1/31) could be interpreted as either leftover infection from my bout with Covid in December, or could be early indications of disease progression. The second opinion should help determine which one because it's not clearly defined on the scans.
Here's a little background. In my previous post (2/15) I summarized my meeting with the radiation oncologist, Dr. Reshko, who said that based on the scans he reviewed, I am doing "very well" compared to when we first met last August and also described me in his after-visit report as "doing quite well."
But there are additional progress notes in the report that I didn't see until later that contain this language:
"Newly developed 10 mm hypermetabolic nodular opacity at the anterior aspect of left upper lobe since January 10, 2024. FDG avid juxtapleural opacity along the periphery of left upper lung zone and few scattered small bilateral nodular opacities are similar when compared to recent CT from January 10, 2024 but new since October 2023. Constellation of findings are worrisome for recurrent disease or metastasis."
I'll get to the translation of all that in a couple of paragraphs. But first I want to note that I had my CT SIM on Thursday. It's an imaging process that almost felt like being in a spaceship, complete with liftoff and re-entry sound effects and a Mission Control panel to measure every part of my left upper lobe lung nodule and the surrounding area. I now have a big blue X on my chest marking the very spot where the next round of radiation will be targeted. The net result of the five treatments, according to Dr. Reshko, is "the nodule should be completely wiped out."
I don't have a schedule yet for the treatments; they'll call me in about a week to let me know. First, the team has to review and evaluate all the images acquired from the CT SIM and basically double-check that the measurements are correct and Dr. Reshko's recommendation for five high-dose treatments fits with what was observed on the images.
So here's my rough translation of Dr. Reshko's notes. He is concerned that my disease may be progressing and that it's showing up as "scattered opacities" (hazy, white-flecked patterns) on my scans, which could also be interpreted as infection or pneumonia. It could also be very difficult to treat because of its scattershot nature. The radiologist, a different person from the radiation oncologist, didn't express that same concern. And that is why my primary oncologist, Dr. DeRidder, is recommending I get a second opinion. And I am relieved that she said so, because I was thinking it myself.
I don't want the "it could be" or the "it may be" assessment; I want to know "what it is" so we can get on with the right mix of treatment. I realize that medicine is not an exact science, and that's certainly true for cancer. It changes with every multiplying cell. I'm painfully aware that my cancer is metastatic, so progression is not out of my range of reality. But as I've said before, I trust God and my life is in His hands.
On a more upbeat note ... I had a laser treatment on my right eye on Monday (2/10) to break up some leftover scar tissue from my 10-year-old cataract surgery, and it went very well. Other than numbing my eye and then propping it open with a small disc, I didn't feel a thing. The next day I could even see more clearly. On Tuesday (2/11) I met with my podiatrist, who said the toe from which she removed the ingrown nail is healing well and I am on course for a full recovery. Nice to get some positive reports.
I don't have any appointments scheduled for next week, so I don't know if I'll have any "new" news to report. But I'll at least check in by next Friday (March 1!) and let you know how I'm feeling. Right now, I'm about the same ... mild fatigue, ongoing shortness of breath, occasional cough and infrequent pain. On a scale of 1 to 10, I'd say I'm at 7.5.
2/15/24
Today (Thursday) I met with the radiation oncologist, Dr. Reshko, and he was very, very encouraging. He said that based on the scans he reviewed, I am doing "very well" compared to when we first met last August and my cancer was freshly diagnosed. I had five rounds of radiation then. He said the previously diagnosed areas of cancer have responded well to the earlier radiation, my three infusions of chemo and my daily Tagrisso chemo tablet -- meaning that a lot of cancer cells have been killed off. That was music to my ears!
However, there is a new area -- a left upper lobe lung nodule -- that he'd like to target with a new round of radiation. He is recommending what he called a "radiosurgery procedure" that aims a high dose at a small area. The procedure is called SBRT (Stereotactic Body Radiotherapy). It is a precise, high-dose form of radiation therapy that treats cancer in just one to five treatments, spaced a few days apart. For me, he is recommending five treatments.
The treatments will not start until March because first I have to have a CT SIM (Computerized Tomography Simulator) next Thursday (Feb. 22). This is a surface-guided technology that will take very specific images to help the team create a treatment plan. Because my new area, which I call a "spot," is not near my heart or an airway or my ribs, they can put a "box" around the nodule and aim the treatment right at it. In the words of Dr. Reshko: "The nodule should be completely wiped out." That's what I'm talking about!
Just to keep me grounded, he said there are "very few" cases of Stage 4 lung cancer being cured, which my primary oncologist, Dr. DeRidder, reminds me often. But the continuing treatments are effective at keeping the cancer at bay and allowing patients to live a close-to-normal life (minus those pesky side effects) for a longer period of time. Later, when I read his notes on the patient portal (MyChart), he wrote this: "I am also concerned about two pleural-based plaques that are growing and highly FDG-avid. This raises a concern that this may indeed be widespread progression and not just oligoprogression." I don't recall him mentioning that when we were talking today.
I'm not sure I understand what it all means, although I do intend to follow up with him and with my primary oncologist. But this is what I do know: I believe that God is the ultimate Physician, and He is still in the miracle-working business. I put my trust -- and my life -- in His hands.
Dr. Reshko said I should experience very few side effects with the next round of treatment, basically more of the same fatigue, shortness of breath and lowered blood counts that I'm dealing with already. Other side effects may include nausea, skin irritation, sore throat, weight loss and dehydration.
Overall, Dr. Reshko seemed very pleased with my progress, in fact even writing in his notes that "Mrs. Bridges is doing quite well." I am lifted and encouraged by the prayers of many. My "village" has come through in ways I never expected, and it is making a tangible difference in my spirit, in my mental health and in pushing back the cancer. I AM BLESSED.
I have appointments every day next week (see Treatment Schedule), so my next posting will likely be Friday, Feb. 23.
2/9/24
The highlight of this week was getting a "consultation" appointment with the radiation oncologist for Thursday, Feb. 15, in order to get scheduled for a new round of radiation. I have met him before; he was my radiation oncologist in August when my cancer was first diagnosed and I immediately underwent five doses of radiation treatment. My expectation for this time is that he will go over the PET scan with me that revealed my new "spot," and then he will give me the schedule for the next round of treatment.
I had my six-month follow-up appointment yesterday (2/8) with my primary care physician (PCP), who I hadn't seen since I last visited her in July and mentioned my back pain and shortness of breath. She sent me to get a chest x-ray that same day, which turned into a CT scan, which turned into a PET scan, which turned into a biopsy, which turned into a diagnosis. So she was relieved to see that I'm doing ok and getting the care I need. She did say I could take a break from one of my blood pressure meds (I take three) because my recent BP readings have been consistently low. The day I saw her it was 106/82. No white coat syndrome here!
My visit with my PCP also doubled as my annual "Medicare wellness" visit. I was asked questions about my safety, level of anxiety and access to food. I thank God that I can check "no" on most of the boxes that would otherwise alert the medical professionals that I am in trouble. I also passed the little memory test and the clock-drawing test.
Finally this week, I was able to return to the dentist's office, with medical clearance in hand, to get my teeth cleaned.
My energy level is slightly higher than usual; I got a lot done this week that required moving around quite a bit and I wasn't as out of breath as usual. But I know I still have to take it easy. I'll likely post again on Thursday, after I meet with the radiation oncologist.
Oh, and just in case anyone cares, I'm pulling for the Chiefs. I love Patrick Mahomes, and yes, I am a Swiftie!
2/2/24
It's been a hectic, topsy-turvy week.
On Tuesday (Jan. 30) I was supposed to go in for a routine teeth cleaning. But when the hygienist learned that I'd been diagnosed with lung cancer since my last visit in July, she said she couldn't go forward until I got a medical clearance from my oncologist. The concern is bleeding, and with my sensitive gums, even a simple cleaning could be a problem.
Later that same day I had a "refraction" appointment with the eye doctor to get a new prescription for my glasses. Another seemingly routine action. But the optometrist said it's not new glasses I need, but a procedure called "yag laser" to remove some bothersome scar tissue left over from my cataract surgery nearly 10 years ago. The scar tissue has been there awhile, but now it's starting to interfere with my peripheral vision, so the doctor has to "break it up." This procedure is supposed to be simple, but I flagged my oncologist just to be sure it doesn't interfere with something else. She told me not to take my oral chemo tablet the night before the procedure.
On Wednesday I went for the much-awaited PET scan, also known as "eye to thigh." I got the results later in the day, and the most troubling part of it was this language: "Newly developed 10 mm hypermetabolic nodular opacity at the anterior aspect of left upper lobe since January 10, 2024" (when I had the CT scan). More on that in a minute.
On Thursday I went for labs (blood work). The results indicated a troubling dip in both my red and white blood cells, but a strange uptick in my B12 and folate, both of which are supposed to support my blood cells. Hmmm.
That brings us to Friday and my meeting with my oncologist. First, the good news: the overall scan indicates my cancer is "stable." Personally, I would have preferred it to be measurably smaller, but I'll take stable. The not-so-good news is that as the medical language seemed to indicate a couple of paragraphs ago, a have a newly developed "spot."
After reviewing the radiologist's report and discussing a couple of options, my oncologist and I agreed on the following course of action. First, I'm going to stick with the Tagrisso, the oral chemo tablet I've been taking since November. She had asked me to stop taking it for about three weeks when we were trying to chase down the cause of increased creatinine in my kidney function, and had even applied for co-pay assistance to get an earlier version of the drug. But the Tagrisso is working as far as holding my previously identified spots of cancer at bay so she doesn't want me to stop taking it. Plus, the creatinine level is down, so we'll continue to monitor it. She's also puzzled by the ups and downs of my blood cells and wants to monitor those levels as well for a couple more weeks.
Second, I'll be getting more radiation to target the new "spot." I don't have the schedule yet so I don't know how many rounds or how often I'll have to go, but when I had the previous five rounds back in August it was every day for five days. So I wouldn't be surprised if the new treatment is scheduled similarly.
How do I feel? Well, I'm a little dazed. I'm not happy about the new "spot," but if the radiation can take care of it, then I'm good. I'm also disappointed that more of the cancer hasn't been killed off. Keeping it at bay is a good thing, but a better thing would be for it to shrink. I'm still battling with shortness of breath, fatigue and a persistent (but non-productive) cough. Every now and then I get a mild back pain. I'm grateful my side effects are not worse, and I continue praying.
I'll see the oncologist again in three weeks (Feb. 23). By then I should have completed the radiation treatment. I'll post again when I get the radiation schedule.
1/26/24
I visited my patient care facilitator today to fill out some paperwork asking for co-pay assistance from AstraZeneca, the company that makes the Iressa oral chemo tablet that my oncologist wants me to start taking. The Iressa (gefitinib) is half the cost of my current oral treatment (Tagrisso), but the co-pay is considered "very high," although I wasn't told the amount.
Why the change in treatment? Because my blood work has shown a consistent uptick in my creatinine level, which is a measure of kidney function, and my oncologist says the Tagrisso is to blame. On the one hand it may be blocking the mutated gene cells that have caused my cancer, but on the other it is wreaking havoc on my kidneys. So my doctor is switching me to Iressa, which does the same job as the Tagrisso, it's just an earlier version of the drug and filters through my liver rather than my kidneys.
I will be taking a new PET scan on Jan. 30 (last one taken in August, when cancer was initially identified). The PET scan, also known as "eye to thigh," uses a radiotracer to yield a more detailed view of all the places where cancer is present. My cancer is metastatic, so it's not just confined to my lungs, but includes a couple of lymph nodes and a smattering of other spots. The Tagrisso (and soon the Iressa) is a targeted therapy meant to slow cancer's growth, keep mutated cells from spreading to other parts of my body and kill off a chunk of those that have already encroached. I will never be rid of all of it, which is why my doctor calls it treatable but not curable, but I will continue to fight with every ounce of strength I can muster to keep it at bay.
Next update will likely be after I get results of the PET scan.
1/19/24
Let me tie up a few loose ends:
First, as I said a couple of days ago, my oncologist is switching my oral chemo treatment from Tagrisso (a 3rd generation drug manufactured by AstraZeneca that costs $13,000 a month) to Iressa, a 2nd generation drug manufactured by the same company but at half the cost. The ability of Iressa to block mutated cancer cells is supposedly the same; we had to revert to an earlier version because the Tagrisso was starting to wreak havoc on my kidney function (creatinine level), as measured in my blood. In contrast, the Iressa will filter through my liver; now I'll have to be on the lookout for coke-colored urine.
Meanwhile, I'm not taking the Tagrisso, and because I have to go through insurance hoops, I probably won't get the Iressa for at least another week. Naturally, I was worried about going too long (as much as 20 days) without chemo treatment. Don't let those deadly cancer cells think no one is watching or coming after them! But my patient care facilitator, who is an RN, says the Tagrisso has a "half-life" that will continue on in my system for at least 2-3 weeks.
Second, I completed the antibiotic/corticosteroid treatment for the suspected post-covid pneumonia. But I won't know for sure if it was in fact just pneumonia (or "schmutz," as my oncologist called it) until Jan. 31, when I go for a PET scan that will illuminate all the areas in my body where something -- be it cancer or whatever -- is going on.
Third, I also completed the two weeks of daily epsom salt foot baths assigned by my podiatrist following the removal of my ingrown toenail. My toe looks and feels better, but I have a follow-up appointment next month just to make sure I don't get an infection in the meantime.
And finally, the Jeep. It stayed in the shop for a week, where they weren't able to find the source of the oil leak, so we brought Jessie Jeep back home (yes, I name my cars). We've been monitoring possible leaks in the garage, and for a few days nothing happened. But one day a big splat appeared, so clearly we have a problem. Jessie's going to the dealer in a few days (after I get my Social Security check). Hubby also has no heat in the Ford, and in this weather that's no fun, so Edie Edge is going to have to get some work done, too.
Next update will probably be the end of the month. But in the meantime, I'm glad my side issues have quieted down a bit so we can get back to the main event: fighting the cancer.
1/17/24
Brace yourself for a little medical-speak, the new language I'm having to learn to stay on top of my treatment plan.
My creatinine test results came back today (Wednesday), and the level went from 1.56 to 1.27. That's good news, but it means my oncologist believes that my current oral chemo treatment, Tagrisso, is having a negative impact on my kidney function and caused the creatinine level to go above the normal range in the first place. So she is switching me to a different oral chemo treatment, called Iressa (gefitinib). It, too, is an EGFR inhibitor, to specifically block the genetic mutation (called Exon 19) that caused my cancer.
Thankfully, the Iressa is manufactured by the same company -- AstraZeneca -- that makes the Tagrisso, so I'm already in the system, so to speak, to be eligible for help paying for the drug. You may recall that the Tagrisso was $13,000 a month, but AstraZeneca gave me a "grant" to pay for it for a year. My patient care facilitator is checking to make sure I can have that same grant applied to the Iressa, which is actually about half the cost of the Tagrisso because it is considered 2nd generation, or an earlier version of the drug (Tagrisso is considered 3rd generation).
I have to get "chemo education" for this Iressa, primarily to caution me about possible side effects. From what I've read so far, most of the side effects, such as shortness of breath or cough, are ones I've been dealing with already. Other side effects -- such as loss of appetite, nausea and vomiting -- have not been my issues, so I'm prayerful that it stays that way.
I am also prayerful that this transition from Tagrisso to Iressa is a swift one because at this moment I'm not taking either one, and my top-of-mind concern is always: how are we fighting the cancer? The patient care facilitator claims these few days between treatments will not affect the progress we've made thus far at killing deadly cancer cells. Let's pray she's right.
1/12/24
My visit with the oncologist today (Friday) yielded both good news and not-so-good news.
We went over my CT scan from Wednesday (1/10) and compared it with my last CT scan (10/27/23). The areas where the cancer has been previously identified in my lungs are "unchanged." Also, there is "no evidence of metastatic disease in the abdomen and pelvis." My liver, spleen, pancreas and adrenal glands are all "normal" as well. That's good news. In fact, I'd be tempted to call it great news, except for some other issues.
There are a couple of new places -- one resembling a little mound and the other a scattershot region of what my doctor called "schmutz" -- that the CT scan can't clearly define as cancer. The radiologist described it this way in the report: "New juxtapleural opacity in anterior dimension at periphery of left upper lobe. Findings may represent atelectasis or pneumonia."
My oncologist says the "schmutz" could be leftover infection from my bout with covid last month, a partial collapse of my lung or an outbreak of pneumonia. She has prescribed an antibiotic and a corticosteroid for the next seven days to address those possibilities. She has also asked me to withhold taking my oral chemo treatment, Tagrisso, for seven days.
So we are juggling a couple of if/then issues.
First, I go back in on Tuesday (Jan. 16) for another blood draw to see if my creatinine levels have improved (see post from 1/9 if you're not up to speed on that chapter). If the Tagrisso is affecting my kidney function, then the doctor would explore new treatment options. Second, if the creatinine levels have gone up, then it's not necessarily the Tagrisso but we still have to get to the bottom of why it's above the normal range, so I'd likely be referred to the nephrologist again. Sigh.
I have a PET scan scheduled for Jan. 31, That's a more in-depth ("eye-to-thigh") diagnostic tool that uses a "radiotracer" to light up specific areas of cancer. If the "schmutz" has cleared up by then, it won't show as cancerous and I can breathe a sigh of relief. If it does turn out to be cancer, my oncologist thinks that specific "schmutz" could be cleared up with more radiation treatment.
We shall see. I'll update after I get the results from my creatinine levels next week. Pray for good outcomes. Oh, and as for the car drama? Well, after a week the shop still had not identified a cause for the leak, so we took the car back. We'll monitor for a few days, and if there's still a problem, we'll take it to the dealer. Life goes on!
1/9/24
The past seven days have been quite a roller coaster ride, both physically and emotionally.
Last Tuesday, Jan. 2, I met with my oncologist for my regularly scheduled monthly visit, and came away feeling ok. Not great, just ok. My post-covid lab results were stable and everything else, other than my ongoing fatigue, was either "normal" or not too far out of range.
All that changed Wednesday morning when the nurse called to say the lab results for my creatinine levels -- a measure of kidney function -- were higher than usual, and the oncologist was referring me to nephrology. I should hear from them in a day or so, the nurse said.
On Thursday, I had a previously scheduled appointment with my podiatrist. My middle toe on my left foot had been throbbing and was giving me grief. The podiatrist took one look at it and said it was an ingrown toenail, and that she could take the whole nail out right then. She stepped out of the room and returned with this six-inch needle (ok, maybe it wasn't quite that long) which she jabs in my foot to numb it, and I nearly went sailing off the table! She removes the toenail, bandages me up and sends me home with instructions to soak my foot in epsom salts every day for two weeks, 15 minutes a day, apply some antibiotic cream and change the bandages.
So by Friday, I'm thinking that the cancer and the covid and the kidney and the middle toe are enough to handle in one week, and I really want to sit down somewhere and just pray. But noooo ... we have to add car drama to the mix! My Jeep leaves a puddle of oil on the garage floor that begs immediate attention, so off to the mechanic we go.
Meanwhile, I call my patient care facilitator to find out why I haven't heard from nephrology, only to learn the nephrologist's office has "declined" my oncologist's referral. I didn't know there was such a thing! They think I need at least one more blood test to show more of a pattern. So we schedule more labs for Monday, Jan. 8.
The Jeep stays with the mechanic all weekend, mainly because the place we take it (NTB) was having personnel issues. No problem, because we thankfully have two cars. But it was a reminder of just one more thing on the What Now list.
We masked up and went to church Sunday for the first time in nearly a month (although we watch online when we're not there in person). It felt great to see everyone and hear a good word about Moses' encounter with God at the burning bush.
On Monday (Jan. 8) we got our RSV vaccine, and then I went back into the oncologist's office for more blood work. Today I learned that my creatinine level in one week went from 1.26 to 1.56. The normal range is .044 - 1.03. My trend for the last four months has been incremental increases above the normal range, but this jump in one week is pretty significant.
So ... my oncologist now wants to rule out my oral chemo treatment, Tagrisso, as the reason for this change and has asked me not to take it for the next seven days. I am scheduled for a CT scan tomorrow (Jan. 10), which will actually measure my cancer, and a follow-up appointment (Jan. 12) with my oncologist to go over the results. If the Tagrisso is the problem, we may have to revisit infusion treatments. If the Tagrisso is not the problem, then we have to look elsewhere. I don't interpret any of this as good news, but I'm glad we are moving quickly. Meanwhile, the Jeep is still in the shop!
My next post will likely be after I meet with my oncologist. Pray for improved outcomes. Now let me go soak my foot.
1/2/24
Happy New Year!
The report from today's monthly visit with the oncologist is mostly good. My vitals are all normal, and for the most part, my covid symptoms have pretty much disappeared. There is minor sore throat and nasal blockage, but my blood pressure, heart rate and pulse are all normal. Having had all those measures fluctuate a lot over the past few months, it's nice to be simply declared normal.
But the most amazing thing has happened since I had covid: my back pain has disappeared! What was a persistent ache across my lower back is now non-existent -- and I haven't had to take Tylenol for at least a week or so now. My oncologist credits the Tagrisso, the oral chemo tablet that I take daily. She says I am tolerating it well, and that is good news!
Some of my lab results -- red blood cells and hemoglobin -- are still a little below the normal range, but they are less below than before (if that makes sense). Again, my doctor credits the Tagrisso. My white blood cells are a bit under normal (a side effect of covid), and my neutrophils (bacteria fighters) are on the low end of the normal scale but still within range.
I don't want to bore you with the numbers, but I guess what I'm getting at is I seem to be doing okay. Not great, not even particularly well because I still have to live with the energy-sapping fatigue, but okay. And for me having stage 4 lung cancer, that's a relief.
We'll get some better measurements on the cancer itself on Jan. 31, when I get the next PET scan. Pray for good results.
New ParagrCaphI