I hate to even say this considering how high morale was following my last post but-

I’m back in the hospital. In fact, I’ve been here since Saturday. I felt absolutely fine on Friday, I was able to eat normally. Everything was just dandy and then boom, out of nowhere, uncooperative intestines.

Around 8:30am on Saturday as I drove home from my haircut I began to feel some abdominal discomfort. I figured I was just a little backed up and planned to put together the “let’s get movin'” cocktail of Miralax and Colace. My plan backfired as every attempt to drink fluids was met with violent vomiting shortly thereafter. My abdomen was rock hard and distended. Something was definitely not right.

My sweet Cory came to help me as I struggled to find comfort in my own skin. Finally, about twelve hours after the initial abdominal pain I called Sheila for advice and she confirmed my instinct to go to the emergency room.

The ER staff took me in quickly and made me more comfortable with an IV of fluids as well as Zofran and Dilaudid. After a physical examination of my protruding belly the ER doctor turned to me a most serious expression and said “This examination is very concerning. We’re going to send you for a CT scan”

What I didn’t know at the time is that everyone except for Cory and I suspected that I had a bowel perforation which would have been really bad and resulted in emergency surgery. Dr. Robison was on call and came right over ready to slice me open if need be. Of course, Sheila wasn’t working but left a party to join us in the ER because she’s just a good person.

We sent this picture to my Mom when breaking the news that I was in the hospital to ease her concerns. I look like death warmed over  but I’ll put aside vanity for the sake of how adorable Dr. Robison and Sheila are right here.

Clearly this is post-pain medication. There wasn’t too much smiling going on before that.

The CT scan results returned and we all breathed a collective sigh of relief when it turned out to just be a bowel obstruction and not perforation. My relief was short lived when we discussed next steps: the dreaded NG tube.

I’ve written about having an NG tube before. For those not familiar with its function- the NG tube is inserted into your nose and shoved downward until it reaches your stomach. While it is being inserted they have you drink water out of a straw to help naturally guide the tube in place. Ultimately it feels like you are drowning and it’s the worst. The tube’s purpose is to allow the bowel to rest by sucking out fluid/gastric juice.

The ER doctor knows first hand what pure torture it is to both place and receive an NG tube so she was kind enough to give me what I now fondly refer to as “the holy trinity”: Phenergan (for nausea), Dilaudid (for pain), and Ativan( for anxiety). I remember all of the tube being inserted but nothing after it. I slept until the next morning with no memory of the multiple x-rays they did or moving to the 4th floor as an admitted patient.

I woke up the next morning, throat raw and irritated, and noticed that the end of the tube was clamped and not attached to anything? Confused I asked Cory what had happened. Double confused I asked him again because I forgot that I asked him the first time (thank you holy trinity). What a patient man…

It turns out that the tube was inserted properly but due to my hiatal hernia, it coiled up and did not stay in the stomach. Here is a visual to demonstrate how the hernia complicates things:

The doctors later told me that I had fluid all the way up to my esophagus so it was still good that we inserted the NG tube because they were initially able to drain a lot out. Ultimately the NG tube was removed yesterday morning and we made a deal- if I didn’t throw up without the tube it could stay out. Luckily, I was able to do that and confirmed this morning during rounds that there will not be another NG tube going in.

Today marks day three in the hospital and we are slowly making progress. I am still NPO (no food or drink by mouth) but have graduated to a small amount of ice chips. They were considering clear liquids today but after listening to my belly, the bowel sounds were still too sluggish. Fingers crossed that tomorrow, maybe just maybe, I can have a few sips of apple juice.

It’s so strange how these things can happen out of the blue. One day I’m feeling 100% the next I’m in a hospital bed. So bizarre.

I want to thank my parents for driving three hours and staying overnight to make sure I was okay. They are currently cleaning my apartment because they are thoughtful and extraordinary human beings. Looking forward their visit later in the day.

I also want to thank another extraordinary human being, Cory. He jumped in his car and drove two hours to be with me without question. He was calm and reassuring even though it was probably scary for him too. The poor guy never left my side and slept in a chair at my bedside all night that first night. How did I get so lucky?

Thinking positive thoughts for a speedy recovery so I can nom nom nom happily once again and get back to work!

Yikes, I have gone an entire month without tickling the ol’…plastics? Hm. I guess there isn’t a cutesy name for typing on a Macbook like there is playing a piano.

Whatever, I’m back. In my head I hadn’t updated because I thought that I was just coasting through the monotony of treatment with no real news. Pretty much every week consists of a blood draw to make sure my CBC (total blood count), followed by an infusion the next day, and 2-3 days of steadily increasing instances of nausea, vomiting, fatigue, and a poor appetite. I was; however, lucky that Valentine’s day weekend fell on a week off treatment between cycles so I was able to nom nom nom on every morsel of food I could get my hands on.

I have hired a professional actor to reenact how I’m pretty sure I looked during Cory and my romantic Valentine’s feast:

Much to my disappointment, a ravenous approach to all things delicious has been the exception more than the rule lately. With every treatment it is a little harder to curb the nausea and general unpleasantness.

Tomorrow I am armed with two full scripts of Zofran and Phenergan to hopefully ensure a vomit-free weekend.

That’s really all I have for a general health “update”. Until I have another CT scan this summer (maybe June-ish?) I won’t know much more about how I am doing than I do right now. My CA-125 has been a pretty unreliable indicator of progress as of late. It’s still hanging out in the 800’s. I used to track it but I lost count. As long as the scan shows no new disease, we are happy. No new disease also opens the door to discuss tapering back treatment to only Avastin to see if I can maintain without the Taxol portion. It’s too early to really know so we’ll table that discussion for a few months from now.

Until then I’ll just keep my head down and do what I need to do.

Nope. I take that back. That’s what got me in trouble over the last month. Keeping my head down and trying to suck up frustration over physical ailments just lead to a month of feeling emotionally and physically depleted more often than usual.

So often I’m kneeling on the bathroom floor, grateful for the gentle fibers of the bathmat under my knees, retching over the toilet. I think to myself “WHY CAN’T I JUST EAT A GODDAMN MEAL WITHOUT DOING THIS?!” The next thought, just seconds later is not kind- “You have had it so much worse. Remember the hysterectomy? Remember IP chemo? I know you remember the clinical trial. This is nothing. You’re fine.”

Imagine if instead of that being my inner monologue, a friend said that to me. They would be a total asshole right? Why do we insist on being so cruel to ourselves in our most vulnerable moments?

As a result of this ongoing and dismissive mental-chatter, I was not recognizing the extent to which I grappling with the continued hurdles. What I was doing was throwing all of my energy into the students and projects at work, coming home, and binging on hours of mindless tv/movies. Numbing the discomfort with distractions.

Distractions can only get you so far. You can let your mind wander but it doesn’t forget that you have a case of the yucks (<– clearly a real medical term used often in clinical settings).

Earlier this week my Mom asked me how I was doing in just the right way for me to respond in a cracked voice and tears instead of the usual: “I’m alright”. Totally involuntary. I thought I was okay? Clearly my brain had some feelings to unload and my Mom is the best person to coach me through the yucks. An hour of crying and producive discussion about healthy emotional outlets later, I felt renewed.

After that phone call I dedicated the rest of the night to self-care. I headed straight to my sanctuary- Barnes and Noble and treated myself to two new books. Stories that could serve as healthier alternatives to hours of binge watching garbage tv. I can get lost in a book, but not for five straight hours. At some point I’ll have to put the book down and face nagging thoughts or feelings. I also bought a new, colorful, ornate looking notebook to pour those nagging thoughts and feelings into.

Later, I wandered into Panera, ordered a comforting bowl of soup, and freely wrote for about an hour. I opened the floodgates and painted a portrait of words to reflect every nagging “yuck” over the last month, or months…or years.  If my future grandchildren are to ever come across this journal they will quickly find out that sweet old Nana has a fondness for a certain “F” word not often found in this blog.

It is no coincidence that I slept more soundly on Monday evening than I have in months.

Chronic illness is a marathon. Until science catches up, there is no quick fix for ovarian cancer and the existing treatments though tolerable are not easy- especially over the span of few years without much reprieve. Self-care and kindness is essential to adapting to the ever evolving new-normals of living with disease.

I’m happy to have had Monday’s mini-breakdown turn into a breakthrough. It has energized me through the week and I am working hard to keep up the momentum. So that said I will keep my head up and be less dismissive of my own needs and emotions.

On a final note- this entry is timely as today marks the three year anniversary of The Cancer Chronicles!

Soooo if my blog was a child it would be able to speak sentences of 5-6 words, correctly names some colors, and dress itself. Way to go blog!

I’ll keep this short and sweet since it is 5am, I’m at the airport, and I’m drafting this on my phone rather than writing, editing, deleting, searching for JUST the right fit and finally posting 2 hours later.

First I want to start by saying that do date 2016 has been phenomenal. Sure it has only been 13 days but I’ll take all the good I can get here.

So far I had an incredible birthday with my loved ones, and did a 3 hour yoga workshop with DDP himself. Yup for all my fellow 90’s wrestling fans, I got to meet Diamond Dallas Page.

And now I’m at the airport waiting to board a plane that will take Cory and I to the Dominican Republic.
It still doesn’t feel real. I’m half expecting the plane to land outside of Bryant to drop me off at work.

What better timing than this week to go on a tropical vacation because we got some good news on Friday that must be celebrated!

My CT scan results served to support that my increasing CA125 levels were due to infection and inflammation in the body.

The scan showed NO new disease 👍
NO growth of existing tumors 👍
In fact, one of the tumors in my pelvis is decreased in size! 👍👍👍

I couldn’t be happier. Many a piña colada will be had.

¡Adios amigos!

Not writing is usually indicative of a rut or internal conflict. Truthfully, I haven’t had much to say.

I am realizing that a common misconception is that I am done with treatment since my hair is growing back. I wish that were the case. Despite the oddity of my hair growing in spite of Taxol (the drug that makes it jump ship) I have still had weekly chemotherapy infusions every Friday.

(and if you look closely you’ll see that I have a total of FOUR eyelashes on my left eye only and pretty much no eyebrows to speak of)

“When are you scheduled to finish?”…

^my reply.

I toggle frequently between frustration and acceptance that second line chemo for recurrent metastatic cancer is not at all like first line treatment. (I should add a disclaimer that my breakdown below is based entirely on my own experience. This may not be true for all cancers/patients)

• First line treatment – highly aggressive with the primary aim of cure.
  • Ex: Surgeries/de-bulking, Intraperitoneal Chemo given in high dosages in fewer rounds, etc.

• Second line treatment – less aggressive up front with a stronger focus on quality of life and stabilizing disease.*
  • Ex: Smaller dosages of chemo given over a longer/sometimes undetermined amount of time
    • *Let me be clear that this does not mean that everyone has jumped ship from the idea of cure (I sure haven’t because goddamn it I’m persistent). That would be anyone’s ultimate hope but given the resistant nature of this disease treatment is focused on providing the best life possible.

So for anyone wondering-

Yes I’m still plugging away every Friday with chemo infusions. No, there is no end date. Yes, my favorite color is purple. No, Ryan Gosling, I cannot be your date to the Golden Globes but I’m flattered.

This morning I met with Dr. Robison to check in and do a chemo exam.

My CA-125 has increased again to 785 (up around 100 or so from last time). My inclination is that this number is influenced by the infection in my nails that I’ve been trying to fend off, a result of Taxol.

As Sheila so perfectly phrased it: “Well your numbers definitely do spike when your nails get all gooey”

For real, my nails are a disaster. Oozy, discolored, gross. I hope the ladies at Metronails didn’t think I forgot about them. Manicures/Pedicures just aren’t safe right now.

Dr. Robison ordered a CT scan for January 8th to rule out disease progression. In my gut I really don’t think I have disease progression but I’m happy that we’ll have a looksie to be sure.

We also discussed and agreed upon switching up the treatment schedule slightly to ease up on my body a bit.

This is my current treatment schedule:

Week #1- Taxol & Avastin

Week #2- Taxol only

Week #3- Taxol only

Lather, rinse, repeat the following week.

Now we are moving to a 4 week cycle schedule:

Week #1- Taxol & Avastin

Week #2- Taxol only

Week #3- Taxol only

Week #4- NO TREATMENT

That’s right party people, a mini-chemocation every 4 weeks.

That’s all I have to report for now but I will certainly be posting the results of the CT scan in January when I know more.

I hope that everyone enjoys a safe and stress-free holiday season. I’m pulling my cancer card to mandate that you all take time to be kind to yourselves and watch a marathon of: Home Alone, Elf, and Christmas Vacation.