Round 3 — I’ve been CHOPped

Today was the CHOP portion of my R-CHOP therapy. This is the day that gives me a headache and makes me feel generally tired. It usually seems to take a day or two for that to happen, but not today. A few hours in, they were dripping the cyclophosphamide into me a little too rapidly, and that apparently might cause your sinuses to swell, which it did for me. They slowed the drip, and that cleared it up, but I still got a clanging headache. I can’t say I feel bad; I certainly can’t say I feel good; I guess it’s most accurate to say that I feel like I’m on the verge of not feeling well. A kind of uneasy feeling, where it just seems better if I keep myself relatively immobile, otherwise I could become ill. I am trying to drink a lot of water in order to flush my system of the cyclophosamide as it can cause bladder irritation — I’m also I’m trying to drink a lot of water to help head off any unwelcome tummy issues. However, all this fluid makes me feel a bit sloshy, which is not a comfortable feeling by any stretch.

Oh I also posted a picture of myself without my hair today as my profile. I think I look like I feel… tired. I’m off to bed to try to remedy that right now. Goodbye tumor the poison will kill what little is left of you while I sleep and by April 21, my scans will prove you are history.

Round Three Begins

I started round three of chemo today… it’s my rituximab day. Even better my doctor gave me a bit of an exam today (yes, he actually saw be BEFORE they gave me the phenergan – an antihistimine that makes me fall asleep almost instantly), and I didn’t take my crutches with me because I’m walking so well, and I did not get lectured (except by my mother); as a matter of fact my doctor was thrilled I was able to walk so well! He thinks it’s evidence of the chemo-therapy working, and so do I. I absolutely wouldn’t be walking without my crutches if I didn’t feel so much stronger, but I do.

The doctor has also scheduled new CT & PET Scans for April 21 (two days after my birthday… what a great birthday present). I’m so looking forward to the results of these scans; I feel really, really positive about them and about the reduction in the size of my tumor. I can feel that it is better. Unfortunately I let slip that I was hoping I’d only need six rounds of chemo, and while he didn’t say one way or another, looking into to his eyes I could read that he feels eight is more likely. So unfortunately I don’t think I’m half way through my journey today, but I’m 3/8ths of the way there (I know I’ll celebrate anything). My husband says we’re saving up for when it’s all over because when my immune system is back to itself, I’m going to be taken to the best sushi restaurant in town and treated like a princess! As if I didn’t have enough to look forward to, now I’m getting fish incentive… call me a seal… I’m out of mind excited… arf arf arf :)

The only thing that really went wrong today is that AGAIN my port would not give up any blood. It takes fluid really well, but it apparently is not going to save me from having blood draws from my arms. At least I’m not afraid of needles, or being poked with them, and I’ll hand it to the nurses doing the blood draws; they’re quite good at finding my tiny little veins, and getting blood in one stick. The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. As soon as they start putting the phenergan into my IV, I begin to get lightheaded and a little dizzy, and I am asleep within about 10 to 15 minutes after they finish the injection. The one funny thing that happened… I’m allergic to latex, so they have to wear special latex free gloves when they give me my injections. Well the nurse wears size 6.5 in latex gloves; so she got size 6.5 in the latex free and she totally Bruce Banner’ed them (Hulk reference for non-comic book readers). She slid her hands in and when she flexed them she totally shredded them. I found it hilarious anyway.

Oh I thought this was kind of cool. I went to a website suggested by another NHL blogger, Carrie Davis, called My Crazy Sexy Life, and they had up a really cool question, which was… If you could draw a picture of your cancer, what would it look like? Now I love to draw and paint, and I have actually imagined my tumor quite a bit. For whatever reason, I really don’t know why, I just imagine it as a big sheet of a kind of pinkish purple plastic bubble wrap that goes around half of my pelvic area, like half a pair of panties (this blog was almost called My Panty Tumor” by the way). The other way I sometimes imagine it is as a big group of foamy purplely pink bubbles. I really don’t know why bubbles, and I really don’t know why I imagine it is purple. It’s not because I have any negative associations with purple, and the pink bit is just the sheen on the bubbles. Really though, I love the color purple (there aren’t many colors I don’t love actually) so I must’ve just got some strange impression from the way the doctors have described things to me. Anyway, the person who posted the question is apparently looking to write a paper using some of the responses, so anyone reading this who has a cancer & would like to comment on how they envision, they’d be helping out with a paper.

All in all though I don’t think that’s a bad way to envision my cancer. A lot of people believe a very helpful technique in battling cancer is to meditate your way to healing; I’m among them. I think your mind is an extraordinarily important tool in battling any disease, and I try to spend time everyday meditating on becoming fit, optimally healthy and tumor free. When I imagine my immune system fighting the cancer cells I see them as big feet dancing away on the bubble wrap, popping bubbles all around and freeing up my healthy bones, or sometimes I see them as little soldiers with spears wandering through a field of purple bubbles, popping massive amounts of them at a time and freeing the healthy white bones underneath. It makes it all kind of fun in a way I guess. I imagine a lot of other things depending on what side effects I’m feeling from the chemo, but those are my primary imaginings when I’m in tumor fighting mode. I guess I never see it as anything that could fight back. One guy at Crazy Sexy Life said he imagines the tumor cells as blobby and dumb, and I guess I see them that way too. Not intentionally malicious, just too dumb to know they’re doing anything harmful.

One other thing when talking to the doctor today that kind of I think emphasizes a very different sort of view of life that I have been blessed to have and have never thought about… My mother was with me today and she was asking why I got this, and the doctor was saying not to think of it as some sort of punishment from God or something along those lines. He said some things are just random and bad things unfortunately do happen to good people. I guess my view of life is totally different from that way of thinking. I have never thought that life was supposed to be smooth sailing on glassy calm waters. To me, life is about lessons that we need to learn in order to grow spiritually. The challenges you face are the things that teach you the most about yourself, those around you, and life in general. Cancer isn’t pleasant, but since I have it, I won’t miss out on the lessons it’s there to provide. I know it can be hard to see unpleasant things as a blessing sometimes, but for me personally, I can’t see them as anything else; it’s what keeps me optimistic and gives me the strength to believe I will be healthy again.

Anyway, enough philosopy. Tomorrow is the CHOP portion of R-CHOP, and I’ll need my rest for that. The doctor thinks a lot of the trouble I had this time was a result of my having suffered strep throat, so hopefully this time goes better. I’m still on the antibiotics for strep, so I hope so too. Goodbye tumor, by April 21, you will be a distant memory.

Round Three of Chemo Starts Tomorrow

Oh my it’s been a long day today, and frustrating. I’m working from home using a NextG connection. I have to say I can’t recommend it. It drops out sometimes as much as 10 or 20 times an hour. I spend more time trying to get connected to the network than I do working. It drives me nuts as I actually LIKE to be productive. I know, I know a lesson in patience and heavens knows I need to learn something about being patient as much at least as I need to learn about being a patient; ha ha ha pun intended.

I am excited that next week I see my bone doctor & he’ll be telling me that my bone is hardening up as the tumor dies (how’s that for positive thinking) :) hehehe. I can’t wait. I know that it IS harder because… I can walk, almost like a normal person. If it’s a very short distance I can even keep myself from having any sign of a limp (it’s only as I get tired I fall into a bit of an odd gait). I am just so excited to see some progress toward having my normal life back, and being able to do normalish stuff without being scared I might fall and turn my pelvis to powder. In all seriousness, I went outside in the dark the other night because someone had parked in my drive & was blocking my car from getting out. I went to walk over to see whether or not it was the neighbor and when I stepped off the pavement into their yard, it was so dark and I was just suddenly struck by this nearly paralysing thought of not being able to see and if I stumbled and fell it wouldn’t be just a tumble, I could very seriously injure myself doing something I wouldn’t have had a second thought about before. I literally crept back into my own yard, sliding my feet along the ground so I wouldn’t trip, and once I was on safer ground I got so angry at being so frail and scared I just cried. I’m just not used to being frail.  When I was a little girl I used to help my Grandpa plow his garden beds by harnessing myself up to his plow and pulling it. I thought it was great fun, especially when my Grandpa would tell me I was stronger and worked harder than most men he knew. To be afraid to walk across someone’s lawn in the dark just seems so absurd to me. But this has been a bit of an absurd few years.

Looking back now things make more sense knowing that my pelvic bones were being modified by the tumor; the medical term for cellular membrane destruction is apparently lysis; and there were lytic and sclerotic (hardening and thickening of cell walls) changes to my pelvic bones and the surrounding tissue. Basically the tumor was smashing the bone & making the muscle and tendon tissue harder and less flexible. In my world though it just seemed like the more I tried to do exercises to strengthen the muscles around my pelvis, the more I kept hurting myself. It’s so good to have that all cleared up, but it is strange to think that something like that can happen. Cancer is a funny disease I guess.

It must be strange to everyone that has it I guess. To think that without your knowing anything about it a clump of your own cells suddenly go from being healthy, normally functioning organisms to dangerous, wildly reproducing mutants that don’t die and that will kill you if you don’t kill them; it seems almost like something out of a science fiction novel or a graphic novel… but maybe it’s just the way I’ve worded it :) Still I look at my right pelvis in the mirror sometimes just looking for some sort of a sign of the dangerous little creature it has hidden away in there, and I don’t see anything.  Both sides look the same, pressing on the weak one causes me quite a bit of pain, but that’s the only clue. Sometimes I just feel around for the tumor too. I can’t help myself. It’s like I almost need to see or feel it to believe it was ever there on some level. This has all just happened so fast. It’s only been a month since I was diagnosed, and I’m already up to my third round of chemo. That’s a good thing I suppose especially considering how cancer works, but I just feel sometimes like I’ve been swept away. I started treatment before I even understood what I was treating really. It wasn’t until day two of my first round of chemo that I even had my full diagnosis. I’ve remedied my ignorance since that time, but still it’s been such a whirl-wind.  Hopefully it’ll be over before I know it too, as I don’t relish slogging through the side effects of chemo for too much longer. I even have this occasional weird thought that maybe the chemo doesn’t have to be so bad, but since I had no symptoms of anything wrong before… the chemo is there to let me know I’m not well. I laugh at myself sometimes; I’m so silly, but still the thoughts do pass through my addled brain.

Look out tumor… here comes another round of MabThera… aka rituximab, aka rituxan followed by a heavy dose of CHOP. You are on your way out of my damaged pelvis and off to where ever tumors go to die, and I’m off to bed.

Countdown to Round 3

Today is Monday and chemo round three starts on Wednesday. I have to admit, on some level I’m not looking forward to it, and on other levels I am. I still don’t know whether it’s my half way mark or my almost half way mark, and I still don’t know the exact date of my next scan, but I know it will be sometime after the 10th and I think before the 24th. I’m praying my tumor will be shrunken so much it’s gone and I’ll only need three more rounds of chemo after the scan. Pretty, pretty please whomever is in charge of tumor shrinkage.

In spite of a lot of difficulty eating these last couple of weeks, I don’t think I’ve lost any more weight since the last time I saw my doctor so hopefully he won’t have anything to lecture me over this week. It’s not as if I have been trying to lose weight, though I can’t wait until I am allowed to try. I am so excited by how much better I’m walking already, I honestly can’t wait to get out there and MOVE!!! Anyway, I think I’ve only lost weight because I’m working from home and I make really nice meals for myself for lunch instead of eating take-away. Plus noone brings naughty goodies for “morning-tea” to my house :)… Morning tea is like a snack at 10 or 10:30am for anyone who doesn’t know, and commonly offices have a morning-tea to celebrate office birthdays, so there’s cake and savories and all manner of goodies. There’s an afternoon tea as well around abouts 2:30 or 3:00pm but those aren’t as common.

I’m still on antibiotics for my strep throat, and I think I will be until Sunday. I hope that doesn’t interfere with my treatment in anyway. My mouth and stomach are a lot better now too thank heavens. I’ll have to ask my doctor on Thursday about what to do if I get the mouth ulcers again. I used the numbing spray I got for my sore throat and some anbesol I have from the States to look after it this time, but I wonder whether he has any other suggestions.

I’m feeling well enough to actually get a couple of full days of work in right now, so I’m off to do that. Fortunately the confusion I’d been feeling over the weekend has passed and I’m back to my sharp self. Look out!

I’m a Cranky Pants

Yesterday was such a good day, I thought / hoped maybe I’d feel that good until the 10th when I’ll have to poison myself again, but no such luck. I woke up nauseous with a clanging headache this morning. Then came the cold sweats and shakes. I sat down on the couch and pretty much fell asleep for another hour or two. I thought the headache was gone, but no when I stood up it jumped right back out.  Stupid head. My right side pelvis (the tumor riddled one) is also aching quite a bit today. I haven’t experienced this before but its like the whole thing is feeling bruised and tender.

None of this would be so bad, but I wasn’t expecting it as it’s been more than a week since my last treatment, and I’m feeling a bit cheated of my limited feel good time. Ridiculous? Maybe, but that doesn’t make me any less cranky about it. Oh how I hate being cursed with cranky pants. Hopefully I’ll snap out of it soon. I could take my pain meds for my pelvis, but my tummy is working like it should and I’d rather have the achy pelvis than more constipation… constipation is not my friend. I don’t like it, and it don’t like me.

I think I’m just going to consider this the tumor’s revenge for my merciless poisoning of us both in order to get rid of it. If this is the best it’s got, it’s dead already. That’s right you bone eating mass of mutant tissue, I can take your headache, your nausea, and your achiness. You can’t win; I’m more than happy to take the side effects of poisoning myself just to say goodbye to you.

On a slightly more funny note, I saw my shadow today… it’s was a bit of a shocker to see me with my smooth dome. It’s been a full week since I shaved my head… but still when catching a glimpse of myself in a mirror or the glass behind the cooktop, or even apparently in shadow, I’m still surprised by my lack of hair. I even catch myself trying to brush it out of my eyes or tuck it behind my ears. I’d heard of people having phantom pain from amputated limbs; I guess I’m having phantom hair pains.

I’m not really a hat or wig or even a scarf person; everytime I try one on I feel like I look silly; not that I’m so hot otherwise, but  I’ve just been rocking the bald look. Mainly cause I get really hot, and it’s kind of comfortable being bald. I know it’s not the choice every woman would make, but it’s good for me.  Funnily enough, in Australia the Leukemia Foundation sponsors an event called Shave for A Cure / Worlds Greatest Shave, and it just so happens to have occurred a couple of weeks before I shaved my head. So many people have given me props for shaving my head for the event; the first time someone said it I told her that I’m actually in chemotherapy, and she was so flustered and apologetic that I haven’t had the heart to tell anyone else. I seem to forget how upsetting cancer can be.  I did have the funniest thought today; when my hair starts to grow back, when it’s like an inch or two inches long, I’m going to look like a porcupine :).  I guess it’ll give me an opportunity to put all those hair products I’ve collected over the years to use… I’ll gel it one way one day, and clay style it another the next.

I did stumble across the most exciting article about a potential cure for cancer that doesn’t involve the blessings of chemo or radiation today… http://ihealthbulletin.com/blog/2007/12/04/par-4-gene-has-broad-spectrum-anti-cancer-benefit/  Hopefully the research will produce the cure the scientist are hoping it will. It sounds quite promising in any case. Here’s to hope!

Orange Sherbet

In an effort to shed my cranky pants yesterday, I decided I would use the ice cream maker my husband got me for Christmas to make myself some orange sherbet. I love orange sherbet, and somehow Australia, or at the very least Queensland, Australia, has never discovered the joys of orange sherbet. It’s not for lack of good oranges, and they have a variety of sorbets, but they don’t even make orange sorbet let alone orange sherbet. I don’t understand it myself; it’s one of those life mysteries (another secret… they have never experienced the joys of combining chocolate and peanut butter… and they don’t understand why anyone would pair peanut butter and jelly either… this is indeed a strange country I’ve chosen to inhabit :)

In any case my strategy worked and today I had some lovely sherbet to share around the place. After tasting it, my husband can’t figure out why the shelves aren’t stocked with it. Maybe I have a cottage industry here on my doorstep that I’m missing out on; the suburban sherbetaria. Today was another rough one, and I spent a lot of it sleeping… not intentionally going and laying down, just randomly passing out while I was trying to do other stuff, like read or watch tv, but I don’t have anything pressing to engage me, so if my body want’s to give up and fall asleep I let it. Though I got a good two chapters into a really good book and it had to go back to the library. Hopefully one day I’ll come back to it and finish it.

I hadn’t mentioned it yet, but just prior to my being diagnosed with cancer, my cat, K, was diagnosed with an adenocarcinoma that had grown out of his nasal tissue. His tumor was shruken via the side effects of an anti-inflammatory he’d been given for pain, and he’s had three chemo therapy treatments himself. He had one just this past Tuesday as a matter of fact. So he and I are kind of going through all this together, though he seems to recover a lot quicker than I do, and he doesn’t lose any fur… just the occasional whisker. I had considered putting him down, instead of putting him through chemo, but like a lot of pet owners I guess I feel like he and I have a lot of common personality traits, and I would’ve been angry if I hadn’t been given a fighting chance, so I figured he’d at least want a go. So far it was the right decision. His prognosis isn’t as good as mine, but for now he’s in remission, and I continue to be blessed by his companionship. Someone told me they thought sometimes pets took on some diseases as a way to help their owners deal with some aspect of the disease on a smaller scale. I hope that’s not the case, because I hate to lose him. He’s traveled with me everywhere I’ve gone over the last 12 years, and we’ve shared a lot of good times. A lot of people tell me 12 years is a long life for a cat, but somewhere in my head I’d always thought he’d live for 20, and I feel some hope that he might. So here’s to the two of us fighting cancer together over a bowl of orange sherbet.

Another Beautiful Day in Brisbane

Today was such a great day! Even though I didn’t get myself to sleep until three am last night, I was up by seven thirty and feeling so good I was able to work a full day. I am so fortunate; I’m a contract worker, and my workplace has been absolutely wonderful to me through this. As soon as my boss found out I was going to have to be out for a bit he offered to let me work from home on the days I felt up to it. How nice is that? And in spite of their being swamped lately there’s no pressure on me the days I’m just not up to it. I am really so blessed. On top of all that my co-workers sent me the most lovely bouquet of Gerber daisies — I absolutely LOVE Gerber daisies, especially the ones that are orange with just the slightest hint of yellow peeking around the edges; they’re like concentrated sunshine. I emailed everyone my thanks to let them know how much those flowers brightened my day, and so many people wrote back saying such nice things about me I just floated around the house the rest of the day. Gosh I’m a sucker for a compliment :).

It was a really beautiful day here today too, the sun was out and it was still breezy and cool… the state’s tourism slogan is “Beautiful One Day, Perfect the Next”, and it’s true. Brisbane is such a gloriously beautiful place to be. My mom is here and my mother-in-law was nice enough to take her up to Tamborine Mountain (here’s a link to pics of the place I have up on Facebook http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2001165&id=1152562294). I couldn’t go, but I’m so glad my mom was able to see at least some of the sights here, and my mother-in-law is such a doll I knew they’d have a nice time together. It’s great to see my mom relax and have a good time.

As for me, this seems to be about the time after chemo that I start feeling like myself again. I swear I could’ve danced a gig today if I was allowed to put my weight on my right leg. I’m trying to be really good and stick to using the crutches most of the time, but my leg hasn’t felt this good in SO LONG. Even walking without the crutches I barely have a limp anymore. That’s just three weeks into chemo. My doctor who specialises in bones told me he thought eight weeks until I was allowed to weight bear again, but around the house anyway, I feel so good it’s hard not to just go when I want to and leave the crutches behind. I do take them on the rare occasions when I go out somewhere, and I use them whenever I wander in the yard. I don’t want to take any crazy chances afterall, but I’m not allowed to really do anything right now, and it drives me crazy. The doctor approved light upper body exercise on my last visit, but that’s still just MORE SITTING/LAYING around. I feel like a human paper weight… or maybe a sofa/bed weight. Soon though, he promises me, me very soon I’ll be walk, walk, walking again, and I can’t wait! I know to be careful though, heck I fractured my ischium bone the weekend before my biopsy just rolling over in bed, so I do know to take it easy, but even that’s feeling mostly healed now. Who would ever think chemo could be such a Godsend. It’s rough sometimes, but days like today really give me that sense that it’s all coming to a good end, it’s just a matter of remembering days like this when I have days like Monday :)

Freakish Diagnosis / Introduction

My name is Jackie. I’m an American who lives in Brisbane, Australia. In March of 2008, after nearly eight years of trouble with my hip/groin, I was diagnosed with large B cell primary bone non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma of the pelvis. Fortunately for me I am stage A1E; which means the cancer has not spread and I haven’t developed B stage symptoms. Primary tumors of the bone are pretty rare, and even more rare for women, but I guess I’m special. My tumor encompasses my entire right hemi-pelvis… I think of it as my panty tumor, and in spite of the fact my doctors tell me it’s absolutely enormous I can’t say that I ever felt it until about a week before I started chemo-therapy.

It’s been a long strange journey getting here, and I’m not even sure what parts of the story are relevant, but essentially, I hurt myself running back in May or June of 2000. I had been jogging in a state park in Ohio in the US about a week or so after heavy rains had caused flash flooding. It was an area I was pretty familiar with since I’d jogged or hiked there nearly every weekend for about three or four years, but floods have a way of changing the terrain. I came around a bend and was going to jump a little ravine not realising it had been washed away into a big gulley. I ended up landing on my right leg with my knee locked and drove my femur up into my hip socket. At the time I thought maybe I’d sprained something, and I limped about six miles out of the park thinking a few weeks rest would sort it all out…. Eight years, a zillion dollars in physical therapy, a hundred pounds of fat, a half a zillion doctors visits and a whole lot of pain later, chemo therapy is looking like the cure.

Now that injury likely has nothing to do with my now having a huge cancerous tumor eating my right pelvis, but it did mask the symptoms of the cancer as every medical professional I’ve delt with until February of 2008 heard about the injury and assumed the pain I was having in my pelvis, hip, groin and back was related to that injury. No one ordered an MRI until the specialist I met in February of 2008; I’d had a CT scan in January of 2006, but it was of my spine, and x-Rays taken in 2006 didn’t reveal anything (though those taken in February of 2008 show my right hemi-pelvis looking like an old moth eaten old piece of wool).

When I met with the specialist after getting the results of the arthrogram MRI, he said to me they didn’t know what it was, but obviously something was doing some sort of damage to my pelvic bones. He told me at that point that it was likely either some type of infection or a tumor. I’m a glass half full kind of a girl, so I said “What kind of infection do you think it might be?” He replied, “Uhm, it’s not an infection.” Which still gives me a giggle. Even then I really didn’t believe it was anything all that serious. Afterall, other than being overweight, I’m really healthy. I eat a well balanced diet, full of whole grains and a variety of fruits and vegetables. I had always exercised, and while I’d been fairly limited after that injury in 2000, I was still kicking around and trying to be active using an elliptical trainer when the pain wasn’t too bad and my pool when I was having trouble with weight bearing. I’d even been working on taking up pilates. Somehow I just really believed I was not a “cancer” person. I’m a bit type A and always thought I’d be more a “heart disease”/”high blood pressure” person (ridiculous when you think about it, but disease prejudice is usually as baseless as any other). Anyway, I felt that if I had cancer I wouldn’t feel as good as I did; my only symptom of this disease was a continual weakness throughout my groin and some pain in my right hip/buttock and back (usually manageable via naproxyn sodium).

After the MRI, my specialist (who specialises in hips/knees and cancerous bone tumors… seems to me a strange combination but a lucky one from my POV), ordered a special type of CT scan and a full body bone scan. It was after these scans that he told me I had a tumor and we were going to have to do a surgical biopsy to get an accurate pathology. So first of March I was tossed into the hospital and one long incision in my bottom later, I got my diagnosis. To be honest I’d been reading about all these varied types of bone tumors and the treatments and likelyhood of survival, and when my doctor told me that it was curable via chemo and would require no furthur surgery as long as I kept my weight off my pelvis and didn’t cause it to collapse, I was relieved. I know cancer is a really serious disease, but I’d been reading about tumors that resulted in a hemi-pelvectomy (which requires amputation of the leg below the pelvis) and the difficulties of irradiating pelvic bones and things along those lines, and my diagnosis was a Godsend to me. Instead of feeling all the fear and trepidation of a cancer sentance, all I heard was “likely curable with 16 weeks of chemo and immuno therapy” and I honestly felt blessed. Add to that, the fact that my specialist told me I would likely be walking unaided (no crutches/cane) within 5 to 10 weeks and back to myself within a year of treatment, and I felt like I was being handed my life back. I’d had so much trouble with my hip/leg; I’d lost hope that I would ever be able to walk normally again. Now I’m looking forward to healing from this cancer, getting my pelvis strong again, and losing the weight that’s piled on over the last eight years of inactivity.

Finding out I had cancer made me really curious about what other people go through with this disease and the treatment, and I’ve had the pleasure of perusing a number of blogs written by people who cared enough to share their experiences, and I’ve found them hope inspiring and somehow comforting.  I decided I might do the same as aside from the catharsis of writing about what I go through in the course of therapy, I hope my story might give a similar inpiration and comfort to anyone interested enough to read it.

Because one thought just leads to another…