"The worst is over...but your tongue may turn black"

I've fallen behind on my blogging, but not because there's nothing happening here. To borrow Ted Kennedy's line replayed so many times over the past few weeks, "the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives..." It's a fitting battle cry for Karen.

Her treatments have taken a toll on her as the chemo toxins build up in her body. She has become increasingly weary as the chemo wipes out her red blood cells. Migraines grip her head like a vice. Her infusion port bulges like a transmitter just under her chest. Mouth sores line her lips. And the waves of nausea have grown stronger and last longer.

Here's the crazy thing about all of this: none of Karen's pain or exhaustion is from the cancer -- the evil, scary cancer that we feared more than anything. Not a single moment of pain was ever from the cancer. It's hard to make sense of it, but all the pain and discomfort comes from that which is meant to cure her. Karen is caught in the crosshairs of a battle between her doctors and cancer. The chemo drugs are the weapons; her body a battlefield.

The doctors always presume that at least some rogue cancer cells may break loose from the original tumor and find their way into the blood stream, travel to somewhere else in the body and then divide and conquer. So, chemotherapy becomes, in some ways, a kind of scorched-earth defense -- kill everything that grows and divides -- even the normal, healthy cells. The result: you have to become sicker to get better.

Thursday marked another milestone in Karen's treatment. She finished four cycles of the powerful Adriamycin and Cytoxan (AC) drugs and has moved onto the chemo drug Taxol.

"The worst is over," say the doctors.

It's hard to find comfort in these words knowing that Karen still has 11 more Taxol treatments ahead of her. The "AC" may be one of the toughest regimens to tolerate, especially with infusions every two weeks. But Taxol has its own set of destructive side effects: pain in the joints and muscles, numbness and tingling in the hands and feet, skin and nail changes, mouth sores, mood changes (oh, joy!), and occasionally, the tongue may turn black. She can also expect to lose the last few hairs on her body -- her eyelashes and eyebrows. But remember, the worst is over.

Still, her spirit remains positive and her resolve is strong -- bolstered in large part by the support of many amazing friends, neighbors, family and colleagues.

It has been 22 weeks since Karen first found that lump and nine weeks of chemo treatments have been crossed off the calendar. Eleven more treatments in as many weeks stand between her and the end of chemotherapy. Radiation therapy will add many more weeks. And then it will be a new year. Surely, a year of recovery, healing and renewal.