Not so hot, thanks, but getting there

I’m going to post this blog on Facebook and to my email list, in hopes that my friends will sign up to follow my blog, and keep up with my healing process. It’s going to be a longer haul than I’d hoped.

Once more with the lung cancer. Just now I’m emerging from the misery of the  chemotherapy treatment last Wednesday, so I’m feeling hopeful again.

I’ve gone through five sessions of chemotherapy, every three weeks, and my lung tumor has stabilized — but is nowhere near gone. Every chemo session seems to be worse than the last, in terms of nasty side effects. I do still have my hair, though.

For those of you just now being acquainted with my illness, in June I was diagnosed with adenocarcinoma of the lung, thanks to an alert pulmonologist I was seeing for my sleep apnea and asthma. Also visible on the PET scan that confirmed my lung tumor was questionable activity in my left half-ovary (all I have, thanks to a couple of tubal pregnancies in the 1980s). My oncologist felt it important to treat the lung cancer first, with chemotherapy rather than surgery. A blood test he ordered showed that the ovarian activity was very likely (but not absolutely) not ovarian cancer. It could be a metastasis of the lung cancer, or unusual but benign activity. In any case, the chemo treatment protocol they’re using for the lung cancer would be useful on an ovarian cancer as well.

But here I am, at a medical standstill until I see a gynecological oncologist in Syracuse (60 miles up the road) in two weeks. She will most likely remove the ovary for biopsy, and will also check on a suspicious spot on my intestines nearby, shown by the latest CT scan. First I’ll have an ultrasound (what’s this, the third?) and a consult. A week later I’ll have a sixth chemo session, and we’ll see where we go from there depending on the OB/GYN’s recommendation.

4 thoughts on “Not so hot, thanks, but getting there

  1. Glenda I am so, so sorry to hear this news. My heart goes out to you. Please don’t hesitate to complain. You have every right to. Chemo is hell and the side effects can be totally debilitating. I hope you have someone close by to help you thru all this. I have family members going thru something similar so I know how this is impacting you though it is different for everyone. If I can help by reading your blog that is the least I can do. I often think you of you painting and your wonderful pictures when I am dancing! All very best wishes to you and great strength to you as you battle this. Sally Grubb

    1. Thank you, Sally. I have a strong support system of friends and family — my husband has been with me every step of the way, and has taken on most of the household maintenance and chores. My 89-year-old Dad is there as much as we’ll let him, and with me at every chemo session. My two closest girlfriends drag me out of the house every chance either of them gets, and come to visit when they can’t drag me out. My artist colleagues at Cooperative Gallery 213 have been just wonderful. My chemo hasn’t been as bad as some — I haven’t lost my hair, and have had minimal nausea (the aches and pains and fatigue, however…)
      I’m so sorry you have family members going through this. So glad my painting has made an impact on you as you dance! I still have some wonderful photos of you dancing with your Scottish Country group, and contradancing. I will get through this.

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