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I have always been an active outdoorsy healthy cowgirl, now forty six years young. My whole life has centered around my family and our horses, both breaking, training, riding and running the rodeo circuit. Both of my sons were showing horses from the time they were in diapers. I had plans to teach my two grandchildren to ride too. My life was good, full of promise for tomorrow.
Then my cancer happened! It invaded my life, destroyed dreams and caused pain. Yet I have learned a lot of important lessons too. My whole purpose in sharing my personal story is to increase the awareness and understanding of this horrible disease.
I have lost relatives and many friends to cancer. I see so many still battling like myself for their very existance. You or your loved ones may have already been touched by cancer. It can have far-reaching effects on all those who care about a cancer patient. I hope that my words will console and offer emotional support.
For those cancer patients following in my footsteps, I encourage you to trust your instincts, seek various medical opinions, research for all the truths available, and never give up the fight. Reach out to others. Speak out for cures. We will not be forgotten or written off. Miracles do happen!
One morning in August of 1998, I woke up with a sharp pain under my shoulder blade which I attributed to a strained muscle.
Even after a few weeks, the pain persisted. Making an appointment with my regular family doctor, he confirmed that it was *only* a muscle pull. I was given a steroid shot and a prescription for muscle relaxers. The pain came and went but was never completely gone. I returned again and again, making regular appointments every two weeks. After several months, I was given an MRI at Summit Hospital where it was determined that I had a "slightly bulging disk". I was referred to a pain management doctor, who gave me several treatments which involved injecting steroids by needle into my neck to reduce the inflamation. In addition, I continued to go to my regular doctor because the pain was increasing. One prescription after another of pain pills was prescribed and taken to no avail. When it became so bad that I could no longer get out of bed, my physician insinuated that the whole problem was in my head.
It was almost Christmas when my doctor decided with a lot of persuasion on my part to finally take a simple X-ray of my back. Obviously he saw something, because he immediately personally called to set up an appointment for the next day with an oncologist for a biopsy. The surgeon found a three centimeter malignant tumor which had spread from my lung to my lymphnodes in the middle of my chest. On December 23, 1998, a day forever etched in my memory, the diagnosis was advanced non small cell lung cancer, stage 3B with a prognosis of one year to live. This doctor's opinion was that without treatment, I would not survive three more weeks.
At first, I was in shock. Cancer is such an ugly harsh word. When it finally dawned on me that I was going to die, I was panic-stricken. I immediately wanted to disburse all my belongings. I called friends to come over and help me clean out everything. I gave tons of my material accumulations away. I had to do something. I was racing against time. I was exhausting myself with anxiety. All my life I had a premonition that I would not grow old, and now it was coming true. Slowly I acepted that I did have lung cancer. I admitted to myself that I had not taken very good care of my body by living the healthiest of lives. I was not mad at God like some terminal patients say they feel. I never said "Why Me?", but I certainly was not calm. I cried at the thought of never seeing my family and loved ones again.
One night, I told the Lord that I just could not handle it anymore. I begged God for comfort. Not that I was going to give up the fight, but I did not want to be running scared. I started reading the Bible for understanding. Acceptance came with more faith and oddly, a sense of humor. I would like to share WHAT CANCER CAN NOT DO. My priorities changed. No more saving for a rainy day or a far-off vacation. Earthly possessions did not have the same appeal as before. I wanted to set right all the wrongs in my life.
trouble37122 brain cancer
I switched doctors to an oncologist, Dr. David Johnson, associated with Nashville's reputable Vanderbilt Hospital.
During the Christmas season, my left arm and hand went completely numb, and the feeling was not returning. With this new symptom, Dr. Johnson felt that the numbness could be cancer spreading to my brain and effecting my motor skills. On December 20, 1999, I was given a PET scan which showed that cancer had spread to my bones and neck. New MRI, PET and CAT scans were scheduled immediately. It makes me very angry that this same mass showed up on a previous scan but was mis-diagnosed on numerous ocassions by various medical personnel causing an irreversable delay in my personal treatment.
Steroids were prescribed to reduce the swelling in my brain and risk of stroke. My recent MRI determined that there is a single spot of cancer approximately 3cc (golf ball size) in the right back side of my brain, not the most operable of places. My neurosurgeon, Dr. Toms, favored regular surgery rather than the photon knife that we originally planned because the tumor is so large. He sounded confident and optimistic that he could remove all the cancerous brain tumor.
My biggest anxiety was not knowing how much memory, facial muscles, and mobility of my limbs that I might loose, even if only temporarily. I was warned that I might need extensive rehabilitation. I consoled myself by thinking of the bad memories that I would not mind loosing.
On Tuesday, January 25, 2000, I had the cranial brain surgery. Operating time was an estimated four hours or more. The neurosurgeon sawed a circular piece from my skull in an approximate size of the tumor, cut out the cancer, and screwed back in the skull bone that was removed. The doctors felt the operation was a success. The staples holding the incision together were uncomfortable, but only a thin line of my hair was shaved. I woke up with a headache but so happy to still be "me" and have hair. I wanted to go home, and started demanding release while still in intensive care. I hate hospitals. I was awake, showered, and dressed to go home in two days. The doctors and nurses were relieved to sign me out! I am sure they believed my screen name of "Trouble" fits my personality.
Follow-up treatment involves three weeks of radiation to clear the brain of any metastasis before concentrating on treating the cancer in my neck and bones. My doctor is checking into clincal trials for any alternative to the harsh chemotherapy.
While it may be menial or vain, it weighs heavy with me that there is a 20% probability of ending up permanently bald this time. My faith in the medical field being accurate about statistics is slim. It could have been a lot worse. After this, I can not imagine being able to pass through a metal scan at the airport again. Guess I will just have to take my head off! (grin)
I have appreciated all the concern, uplifting and encouraging messages and most of all prayers. Please forgive me if I do not respond promptly to your email as I am having much difficulty typing.
By the end of February 2000, I was in the last stages of the fifteen required radiation treatments. My scalp felt very tender, maybe "crispy" would be more descriptive, and my hair fell out by the handfuls. I was still on steroids, not sleeping much, and beyond grouchy.... and that is an understatement. My temperment brought new heights to the term "road rage". I got irrationally perturbed and impatient at even the traffic lights. Drivers and pedestrians, watch out!
A CAT scan and bone scan was scheduled for Monday, February 28, 2000. Might as well pack my bags, lunch and half a dozen books for an all day wait at Vanderbilt Hospital. That is probably the most aggravating aspect of cancer, having to spend all your valuable time with medical personnel instead of friends and family. The doctor's appointment the following day will determine what kind of "cocktail" that they will prescribe.