Conquering Cancer in the Time of Covid
#12 Riddle Me This
Feb 22, 2021
Fair warning before you start reading. This isn’t my most upbeat update. And it’s kind of long. Sorry. I’m stuck in the doldrums right now. Still home, still in treatment, my days are just blending together, time and forward momentum have stopped. I hope I don’t depress you, but I’ve decided to share honestly. This journey will inevitably have its ups and downs. Just now, it’s a perpetual slog, just adrift. But — My 2nd Moderna shot is on the calendar for this Thursday! So two weeks from then, I should be eligible for tentative reentry to life. A family visit is already penciled into the calendar and it’s a very bright light that’s compelling me forward. So hopefully, the winds will fill my sails again soon and I can progress forward into brighter seas.
Thursday was yet another weekly round of Taxol. I came home, chowed down some lunch, and got some great zzzzs on the couch. But then, although I was really tired during the night, I don’t think I got a wink of shuteye. I’m guessing that was the steroid effect? I just could not escape my racing mind. I did stay in bed to rest and remain warm, but my thoughts just would not stop. I was doing a lot of mental writing.
This math problem is how my crazy mind was working at 2am. I guess I miss teaching more than I’m aware! I was thinking of all the different ways to solve this — using systems of equations — using substitution. And if I could somehow make it entertaining to write it up for you. Likely only those of you who are fellow nerds will enjoy this. I’ll put the solution at the end of this piece so you don’t have to go crazy trying to figure it out. It’s a problem I’d give to my top 5th graders or my pre-algebra classes.
Riddle me this: Mrs. Reiss is having Taxol treatments once a week, every Thursday. Today she was 1/3 finished with all her treatments. Last week, she was ¼ finished. And in 2 weeks, she will be ½ finished.
A) How many treatments will Mrs. Reiss have altogether?
B) If her first treatment was Jan 28, 2021, on what date will she have her last treatment?
I also have been thinking for quite some time about how I can spin the universe’s intentions for my cancer into something positive. Assuming the universe has some plan, and that it’s benign and beneficial for me, how can my cancer be construed to be something helpful and good for me? Here’s the crazy scenario I’ve cooked up. It’s along the same theme as the parable about the young man who falls off the roof and breaks his leg. At first, everyone thinks it’s a calamity. He’s broken his leg and can’t walk or work. But then, the next week, army recruiters come to town and draft all the eligible men into war. The man with the broken leg isn’t fit for service so he doesn’t go to war and in the end, the broken leg saves his life.
In my story, I got my diagnosis just as the coronavirus was entering the deadly winter surge. Because of my cancer and treatments, I had to be exceptionally careful and isolate at home. I stopped the few social things I had been doing. I stopped going to my daughter’s house to visit and help her. I stopped playing golf. I stopped outdoor visits with friends. I stopped going to the grocery and other stores and instead arranged for pickup. Husband had to be extra cautious when he went out. So we never got Covid, that we otherwise would have. We survived the pandemic. And then I survived cancer. Ét Voilà! Cancer saved my life.
This is a ridiculous story on many levels. But I find that I need to justify my circumstances somehow. To make some positive meaning of the ravages of my life. To understand why, of all people, this happened to me. I’ve been so careful and protective of my body and my health. I’ve never taken my body for granted. I’ve understood for many years that my body is a temple that must be cherished because it is the only container I ever will have for my soul, for my essence. So I’ve exercised, eaten properly, attended to my medical needs, gotten my routine mammograms and ultrasounds. Why then, has my body forsaken me? I have no good answers so I have to spin reality into an imaginary, happy ending.
In my last post, I alluded to the pros and cons of new patient portals providing us access to the minute details in our files that perhaps are not fodder for consultation conversation. After my tele-consultation with the plastic surgeon, he posted my Pet Scan results in my UCLA health chart. It was the first time I’ve had the opportunity to read them. They showed no hypermetabolic activity anywhere in my body. That means my breast and my lymph nodes all appeared clear on the scan, even before we started treatment! That was a real morale boost — most especially about the lymph nodes. There’s a very uplifting prediction in the report that they are clear. We won’t know for sure until after the sentinel node biopsy, but it’s another positive, optimistic sign. I asked the oncologist about this last Thursday — why, if I was cancer free before treatment, must I have every possible treatment — chemo, surgery, radiation, clinical trial — every possible therapy/torture that oncology has cooked up. He explained that chemo can’t reach the cavity where the tumor was removed because there’s no blood supply, so the goal of surgery and radiation is to eliminate any remaining stray cells there. That only partially makes sense to me. There must be blood supply or my breast would be dead — black and necrotic. And whatever margins were not clear are still connected to blood supply so the chemo can reach them. I’ve also since learned that small, individual cells are not detected on scans so I could still have had microscopic cancer cells anywhere. And stray BC cells are notorious for lurking around and then resettling themselves. If we don’t zap every last one of them now, they can return, multiply, and wreak more havoc. So the best way to keep me alive and healthy for the long-term is to destroy me now. So ironic.
I made a big mistake a few days ago. Decided I was strong enough to start some research into clinical trials as it appears there’s to be one in my future. I discovered a trial that recently completed and reported out of the UK. It was for my tumor biology, so possibly for me, and reported good results. It reduced recurrence within 2 years in high-risk patients from 11.8% to 7.8% or something like that. That sounds really good right? Yes and no. What set me off was in the details. Apparently, to qualify for the trial, you had to be high-risk for recurrence within 2 years, and there were 3 criteria for that. Lymph node involvement, large tumor size/high grade, high reproductive rate. So, I discovered that on at least 2 out of 3 criteria, I’m at high risk for recurrence. I hadn’t known that or considered it. I’ve been going happily along, with optimism and confidence, that once I get through all these therapies I’ll have a strong chance to be cured. But apparently, I’ll still be at high-risk. The optimistic spin for all this is to consider that if between 7.8 and 11.8% of patients have recurrence, that means that about 88–92% of patients do not. Those are still pretty good odds. But that’s not what stuck with me emotionally, no matter how deliberately and forcefully I repeated the statistics to myself. All I could really process was “High Risk for Recurrence”. I also know firsthand that the small %s represent real people. When my mother had her primary melanoma lesion excised, the doctors told her they got it all and there was a 99% chance she’d never be troubled by it again. But 5 years later it was in her bones and brain, and within months she was gone. That 1% was my mother. I spiraled into a depressed mood. Then I startled awake in the middle of the night as my dreams filled with anxiety about it. I prefer depressed to anxious. Sad feels less debilitating than freaking out right now. I keep thinking how awful and how sad it is that these might be my last couple of years, or maybe I only have a year or so of decent health in my future. And I’m spending this precious time alone at home, isolating from Covid, without my family — my precious kids!! — and my friends. I can’t squander this time and yet, how to get around it? I need to surrender, have faith, and trust my team….and never forget to Carpe Diem, no matter how bleak the day is. And, as I said earlier, hopefully the vaccine will open some doors for me to start living again.
The hubby pointed out to me several times that just because I had this new information, my status and progress have not changed. I’m still doing really well with the treatments. I’m strong, my bloodwork is excellent. I was able to get my blood sugar down in just one week with a diabetic diet — no carbs, no sugar. I feel pretty good. No serious fatigue, nausea, or side effects yet with the Taxol. A few of my fingernails seem to be turning a lite shade of yellow — the ones with the red/pink moons. And my tongue is still gray/green. But my sense of taste is returning. I have no neuropathy so far, thank all the powers in the universe. My digestive system is actually really excellent — my gut is happy and healthy. The fuzz on my head is still there and possibly getting longer? It’s hard to tell but we think my hair may actually already be growing back! A very welcome sign of recovery and convalescence. I haven’t lost all the hair on my body either — I still have eyebrows and eyelashes, and some downy body hair. I wouldn’t mind if the coarse hairs on my legs never return! But I do really want my head hair back. It’s cold without it and I hate looking at myself. Sadly, and honestly, I’ve also become rather slovenly and lazy — I don’t even really get dressed anymore. I live in “day pajamas”. I laze around in my adjustable Casper bed, under my warm blanket, sometimes for hours, after I wake up. Then I grow roots into my chair at the kitchen table, fruitlessly surfing the internet, my email, facebook. Really jarring is that I’m even struggling to enjoy books. I’ve been trying to listen to Transcendent Kingdom for book club but I just can’t concentrate long enough to get into it. I’m a couple hours in already and I’m not really sure what’s going on. (Or maybe I just don’t really like this book? lol) My greatest pleasure is my knitting. I finished one terrific afghan and have started another one. They’re intended to be hugs from me for my family, when I’m gone. But also, it’s very meditative…the monotony and repetition puts me in a little trance. And it makes evening TV time somewhat productive.
After I struggled to come to terms with the recurrence aspect, I decided to start the book my sister gave me months ago…Dying to be Me, by Anita Moorjani. And fortunately, this book held my attention. It’s an interesting read about her Near Death Experience and subsequent spontaneous remission from end stage Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. It’s uplifting and inspiring at the same time it’s truly incredible in the literal sense of the word. Can I really believe it’s possible to have an out of body experience? To visit /experience another ‘realm’ between life and death? If so, I really wish it could happen to me! And, where I think the book is going (I haven’t finished) is to the conclusion that our mental state determines, or at least strongly influences, our physical state. Mind over matter. We bring disease upon ourselves when we stress, fear, are anxious, and untrue to our essences. So, by extension, did I ‘cause’ my cancer because I had so much stress and anxiety this year from Covid, retirement, and the challenges my kids are facing? Am I “to blame”? And by extension, can I heal myself with positivity? Obtain a better long-term outcome if I stop worrying and fretting and just live in the moment? It’s a goal to strive for irrespective of the cancer prognosis, but it’s a challenge nonetheless. I am finding though, that when I begin to feel worried, frightened, anxious, it has helped me to think of this story — to believe that miracles are possible — to believe that there is consciousness after, or near, death — to believe that my lost loved ones, mom and dad in particular, are watching over me, guiding me, protecting me, still loving me. My feelings about death itself are unchanged, however. I haven’t been afraid of death for a very long time…that is to say, I’m not afraid to be dead. I’m not afraid that there is a hell or that I will be punished. I’m not optimistic that there is a heaven where I will be rewarded. I’m hopeful for a life after death but I’m agnostic about it. I’ve hoped for a long time that my soul will be released to wander the universe — maybe we turn into stars? Or rays of light? After all, mass and energy can be neither created nor destroyed, according to Einstein. They can only be transformed between the states. No, what I feel most strongly about death is sadness. I’ll just be so sad to leave my life, my loved ones. I will miss my children and husband so very much. I’ve had such a wonderful life — I will miss the sunshine on my face, the smell of the earth after a rain, a beautiful sunset, trees, flowers, food, (chocolate!). I will miss hugs and kisses, laughter, joy, surprise. I will miss, perhaps more than anything, seeing my beautiful grandbabies as adults. I want to be at their weddings, I want to meet their babies! I just don’t want to leave my life behind. I have said for years that I believe that THIS is heaven. We are living in the Garden of Eden. We must live for now, appreciate this life, because life after death is probably just a wish. So death is the end. I believe it’s peaceful, but it’s probably just a great void with no consciousness. So I will miss life and all the wonders and loved ones in it. I remember telling my mother, as she neared her end, how much I would miss her when she was gone and she replied that she was going to miss all of us! That was such a profound moment for me — the realization that her loss was so much greater than mine/ours. And now I feel her pain and loss as my own. I’m just not ready yet. I have so much left to see and do, and I need my health and lots of time to do it all.
Wishing all of you peace and health. Remember to embrace this day.
Xoxo
Jill
Solution to the Math Riddle:
Let L = last week
Let T = total treatments
¼ T = L
L + 1 = 1/3 T
L + 3 = ½ T
Use substitution to solve because it’s easiest: (Substitute ¼ T for L — since ¼ T = L)
¼ T + 1 = 1/3 T
3/12 T + 1 = 4/12 T
- 3/12T — 3/12T
1 = 1/12 T
12 x ( 1) = 1/12T x (12)
12 = T
So, T, Total treatments = 12. The last day of treatment will be April 15. I’ll happily settle up with the IRS as usual on that date, just to be done with Chemo!
