Even On The Rainiest Day...

Yes, "holey" as in "having holes" and "guacamole" as in "mostly avocados". Allow me to explain...

I went back up to Mayo at the beginning of June for a check-up. I had surgery in May to burn a couple more tumors out of my liver and when they did the pre-op scans my oncologist had said that it looked like my lung tumors may be growing again. So my return in June was to check things out after the surgery and to take a look at my lungs and decide what course of action to take. In the weeks after surgery and before my check-up my liver had been hurting pretty badly. Well, that is to say, the area in which my liver is located had been hurting, I only assumed it was my actual liver hurting. So when looking at my scans after hearing about my pain my oncologist told me that my pain was caused by the holes created in my liver when the tumors were burnt out. I had holes in my liver from previous occasions when tumors had been burnt out and apparently one of the old holes connected with one of the new holes and created a giant hole. And that giant hole was (is) filled with fluid, dead tumor, and other nasty sounding things that I have been informed my body will absorb and get rid of on its own. In the meantime, however, I have a giant hole and the crud in it is pushing on my liver capsule and causing pain. How big is my giant liver hole, you ask? According to my oncologist, it's the size of an avocado. And so therefore, "holey guacamole"! So to give you some visual reference as to how big an avocado is in relation to your liver I took some pictures... okay, I took them because they're funny too. The plush liver is made life size so it should give you an idea.




So, for a normal person, your liver is on your right side.









I, however, am not normal and due to surgeries and such, my liver is on the left.







This, folks, is an avocado.








And here is a liver to avocado size comparison for you. Can you say ouch!?





Where did I get a plush liver? I know a guy. *wink wink*
Look! I have plush lungs too!

In other, non-avocado related news, my oncologist and I discussed my lungs. Looking at the scans, my doctor said that you really have to squint at them to see that my lung tumors have grown, but that they are growing. But given that my liver is still recovering from surgery and that my lung tumors are growing very slowly right now my oncologist said he felt comfortable with, and, in fact, encouraged me to hold off on treatment until after the summer. We will look at my lungs again in September and see where to go from there.

Interestingly enough, the news that I got at Mayo that upset me the most wasn't directly to do with my cancer. About a year and a half ago I had a medi-port put in so that I could receive chemo without having to go through the trauma of getting an IV every time. My port is a PowerPort and can be used also for scan contrast. Well, this trip to Mayo I was informed that I would not be able to use my port for my scan contrast and would need an IV. Trauma! IVs and me do not work well together, thus the port, but the tech who was getting me preped for my scan looked at an older scan (something I guess they are supposed to do) and saw that the tip of my port, the part that is supposed to sit in a big vein just outside the heart, was in the wrong place. After talking to my doctor and having him look at my scans, it turns out that the tip of my port is, indeed, in a bad place. Instead of sitting just outside my heart, the tip of my port had worked its way inside of the atrium of my heart. My doctor said that this was most likely due to my being on the thin side and port tubing being made a standard length. Because I do not have enough fat to hold my port farther away the tip of mine, through repeated use, got pushed into my heart. Not good for scan contrast because they run it at such a speed that the tip of the port could flop around and hit the walls of my heart causing fibrillation or the speed at which the contrast is run could just simply blow a hole in the wall of my heart. Neither of these things sound like fun, so no scans using the port and we are going to have the port situation remedied in September. I will either have it taken out completely or, if I will be starting a treatment, they could put a new one in for me that could be fitted to my size better. Fun stuff.

So there you have it, a goofy little update. Sorry I have been absent from this blog lately, I blame the avocado hole, it still hurts. But even on the rainiest days, when life hands you avocados, there are still silly pictures to be taken and friends and family to help you while you heal and make you smile.

We're all familiar with the little elephant, Dumbo, and his big ears, right? And do you remember how Timothy, the mouse, gave Dumbo a "magic feather" to give Dumbo the confidence to fly? And Dumbo flew. Then at the worst possible moment Dumbo lost his "magic feather" and with it lost his belief that he could fly. Of course, in the nick of time, Timothy explains to Dumbo that the feather was never magic and that he can fly without it and, of course, Dumbo finds his confidence in himself and flies without the feather.

So, once again, I know it's been quite awhile since I've posted anything. Sorry about that. In any case, I thought I just give you all a quick update on how I have been and am doing.

I think that sometimes we get caught up in the enormity and seeming endlessness of cancer and we let it overwhelm us. We feel hopeless and helpless and any small change that happens, be it a physical change or a change in treatment, causes stress and maybe even despair. And that is probably normal (not positive, I'm still a bit new to the world of cancer) but I think that sometimes those emotions can prevent us from seeing positive changes in the cancer journey as the huge and amazing things that they are.

I returned to Mayo last week for a check-up and my liver looks good. Well actually, it looks like it is full of holes, but not full of tumors right now, YEA! My liver function tests all look really good too. My lungs, however, have my doctor a bit concerned. The tumors in my lungs are not growing any faster than they were last time I was there, but there are growing. They are still small though and not causing any breathing problems. The chemo that I have been on has not stopped the growth of the tumors, which we already knew, it does seem to be slowing the growth but without stopping the chemo and waiting to see how fast things grow we won't know. I've been on the same chemo for over a year now and the continued growth of the lung tumors has made my doctor suggest other treatments. There are still things that we can try but from here forward the treatments become more taxing to me. What my doctor would like to try next is a different chemotherapy. This chemo would be given through an IV and would be once a week for two weeks and then off for one week, then repeat! So, I will be starting that treatment up here at Mayo this Friday, the 16th, returning for a second treatment on the 23rd, and then meeting with my oncologist before continuing with it in November. If I tolerate the chemo alright then I will start receiving it closer to home and not have to travel up here weekly. There is also some talk of putting a port in but that will likely wait until next month.

So yes, a new chemo and the possibility of a port (which might actually be a good thing) but did you miss it? The good news, I mean. The huge change in my condition that even I, at first, just glossed over when telling people how my trip to Mayo went? My liver has NO tumors in it right now! None! That is HUGE! It has been nearly 3 years since I was able to say that. And so I stopped there to add up the number of tumors that I had 3 years ago, I believe it was 10 or more in my liver at that time. And then I mentally added up all the different procedures that I have been through to try to get rid of those tumors. And you know what? Somehow, the math doesn't add up. There used to be tumors in my liver that were just sitting there, not growing, not shrinking, just sort of hanging out. And we never really treated those. So what happened to them? I looked at the scans with my doctor and I agree, there are no tumors in my liver, and maybe we treated and removed them all, but I don't remember that. But the are gone! And, my friends, that is a huge thing! To be honest, headed up to Mayo this time I was so nervous that they were going to find lots wrong with my liver, I have never been so happy to be wrong! Now, I don't know how long my liver is going to stay tumor free, but it is tumor free now and, to me, that is enough. More than enough.

So yes, I have to start a new chemotherapy. And yes, it is probably going to be rather unpleasant. But even on the rainiest day, when cancer threatens to overwhelm us, there are these huge things, these changes that often slip by unnoticed. Some may choose to call them an improvement, I call them miracles! And I am so thankful for them!

The Good: I was up at Mayo having a bunch of tests done and meeting with my oncologist a couple of weeks ago and things are looking good! Well, things are looking stable but to me, that is good. My liver is healing from the surgery, the are no signs of new tumors in my liver right now, the tumors in my lungs haven't grown radically in the past six weeks that I have been off of the chemo, in fact, the look to be mostly about the same size that they were on my last visit, I have been cleared to start my chemo again, and I don't have to return to Mayo for a check-up for about 3 MONTHS! Yea!!! Three months may not seem like long, but to me it is a long time and the rest of my summer is Mayo-free!

The Bad: I still have cancer. Blah. And so do so many, many others. Double blah.

The Perplexing: I have been thinking lately about how, so often, people, friends, will tell me about some trouble in their life, some sorrow that they are experiencing and then feel the need to follow it with something like, “But it's really nothing compared to what you're going through.” or “But don't worry about me, you have enough to deal with.” WHAT?! Truly people, it drives me banana sandwiches when you do this to me. Sorrow is sorrow, end of story. There is no comparing sorrows and judging that one is harder to endure than another. Big or little, lasting or short term, every sorrow is valid and hurts just as much as anyone else's sorrow. And just because I have some sorrows of mine own doesn't render me incapable of listening to or trying to help with someone else's sorrow. In fact, it hurts my feelings a little bit when people assume that, because of the events in my life that, I would feel that it would be a bother to hear their troubles. Quite the opposite is true. I want to listen, I want to help if I can. Sorrow is sorrow. So many of you have helped me carry my burdens, please let me help you with yours as well.

Troubles are everywhere it would seem but, even on the rainiest day, there are still joys to share and friends who will help us through our sorrows even if they have sorrows of their own.

Hey, I know it's been awhile since I last posted anything but there has been much going on. I went back up to Mayo on April 29th and met with my oncologist and the liver surgeon and it was decided that surgery to remove the tumors in my liver was possible and that it would be scheduled for Monday the 4th of May. So we went back home for two days and packed then returned to Minnesota on the evning of the 3rd. With me I had, my husband, Eric, our beautiful little girl, Kylynn, my mom, and my sister, Julia. It was nice having so many people along. Kylynn really wanted to come with this time, and truth be told, I really wanted to have her close by so I am glad that there were enough people there to help with her and be able to come see me.

I get nervous about any surgical procedure, but this surgery was going to involve a 7 and a half inch incision in my abdomen and so I was a bit beyond nervous. Plus, I had never had a full blown open surgery at Mayo before and so the process was all new to me and I was not able to see my daughter, husband, or sister before surgery. I did get to see mom but only for a short time and only because she got up at the crazy early hour and went with me. I was the first surgery of the day and the procedure went well. I was back in my hospital room before early afternoon and I would like to say that I was resting comfortably but I was miserable. I was really sore and uncomfortable for most of my hospital stay mostly due to my incision and my limited options of pain meds. Stupid allergies. Anyhow, I finally got released on Thursday afternoon and had a LONG car ride home. Since, I have been staying at my parent's house as Eric needed to return to work and I need help with Kylynn. I am getting better slowly, each day is a little better, but I can really tell if I over-do it one day because the next I will be sore and exhausted. On the plus side, I did get to see all 4 for my sibling in one weekend, all together actually. My sister, Amy, and her family came up from Tennessee to see me and my big brother, Ken, was in town from Michigan with his wife and came by to see me. And then my sister Julia and my little brother Jeff who live near by were around. It was really nice. I know that it may sound silly and that many may not believe it, but my siblings are my best friends and I love them all very much!

All of this makes me think back to January of 2006 when all of this started, and when I had my first open liver surgery here at a Chicago hospital. Back in 2006 I went into my surgery asuming that this would be a one time thing, that they would remove the cancer, and that I would return to my "normal" life. Sitting here, a little more than 3 years later, I wonder if this is going to become my "normal"? I sure hope not, and I know that upstairs right now there is a beautiful little girl who has been praying for it not to be. I do know now that this isn't a cancer that we can just remove and be done with, it is not a cancer that knows remission, it is not a cancer that is common and has a set course of treatment. But I have beaten the odds so many times already, my liver has put up with more than any liver should have to, and keeps functioning well. I know that I am going to keep fighting. And most importantly, I know that Our God is a God of miracles and ultimately this is all in His hands. I will trust in Him.

It has been a long couple of weeks. I am sore and tired. My husband and family are stressed and tired. My sweet baby girl is praying every night for her "mommy's tumors not to come back." It is all overwhelming. But even on the rainiest day my husband, daughter, and whole family are there to hold umbrellas of hope and encouragement for me and God is there working on a beautiful rainbow for all of us, even if we can't see it yet.

So much has been going on lately and I have been feeling completely overwhelmed. I recently returned from a check-up at Mayo where I received news that I have two tumors in my liver that are growing. One of these two tumors is lying very close to my stomach and would be very difficult to reach without doing an open surgery. So I return to Mayo in a couple of weeks to meet with my oncologist, a liver surgeon, and an endocrinologist to discuss possibilities and likely schedule a surgery. On top of that, my husband's grandmother has been hospitalized and then yesterday moved to a nursing home. That is hard in itself, but my husband is power of attorney for his grandmother and as such has been having to deal with all the logistics of these changes as well as the emotional aspect. AND my car has been causing us no end of trouble finally resulting today in Lulu (my car) being sent for a time-out at the mechanic's and me driving around a weird smelling rental car. That's all in addition to the normal craziness that goes on around here. It's been quite a week!

As a result of all of the craziness, I have been thinking about and longing for the places that make me feel like my troubles aren't so big. One of those places, one of my favorite places, is The Giant's Causeway in County Antrim, Northern Ireland. The Causeway

"is an astonishing complex of basalt columns packed together, whose tops form 'stepping stones' leading from the cliff foot and disappearing under the sea."

And so I long to be back in that place of giants. To sit again in The Wishing Chair and cast my troubles and prayers out over the sea. To let the sea spray and wind wash over me and and carry my troubles away. To just sink into those ancient stones and let the enormity and beauty of the place dwarf and humble me. And that is where you will find me tonight, walking where the giants walked and letting my burdens be shrunk and then carried away on the winds that sweep over the coast. And I can't help but think that even on the rainiest day, when my heart is heavy and feeling much too large for my chest, that there are always beautiful and gentle giants, giants of all sorts, that are able to carry me through my troubles.