tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83670061082116947072024-03-26T05:04:46.710-04:00My Wife with CancerA husband's chronicle of an unplanned journeyBrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-40010056707933029042010-04-25T23:11:00.003-04:002010-04-30T17:41:44.760-04:00Happy CancerversaryIt's been a little over a year now since Karen's breast cancer diagnosis. We "celebrated" her Cancerversary on April 15th -- a day now marked for us with taxes and cancer. It's hard to imagine two things that are more despised. Despite the dread this date might elicit, I hope that instead it will be a day we embrace for many, many years to come. My hope is that it will forever be a day that marks triumph over fear and hope over despair. In the end, these are the characteristics that Karen -- and many thousands of survivors like her -- embodied as she stood up to cancer: courage, strength, hope. They are words used over and over to describe the qualities of those who battle cancer. I can tell you, they are words never over-used or under-appreciated for those who fight this disease.<br /><br />We've come full circle since a year ago at this time. The beautiful pink flowers on the azalea bushes are blooming again, just as they were when I took the first picture of Karen for the blog. And although I haven't blogged at all since Karen finished her chemotherapy in November, the "journey" did and has continued.<br /><br />Chemotherapy was followed by seven weeks of daily radiation that ended in February. While the side effects were few, the lasting effects of the chemo drugs on top of daily radiation wore her down to the point that getting out of bed some days was a real struggle. Harder still was dealing with the expectation that since she was finished with the chemotherapy that she would quickly be back to her "old" self. She learned -- we all learned -- that it would take months before she regained her energy and felt good again. But thankfully, those days have arrived!<br /><br />Although her toenails have yet to grow back -- her hair has grown back in. There's no sign of the predicted "chemo curl", but she looks right in style with her "pixie". In fact, last week she said goodbye to the gray that highlighted her hair and she's back to a brunette.<br /><br />The Spring of 2010 may always be a time of change for Karen. Last year, her big news of course, was her cancer diagnosis. This year, she has made a change by accepting an exciting and challenging new job with Deloitte Consulting. It was a tough decision since it meant leaving the friends, colleagues and company that supported her during one of her most difficult years.<br /><br />To mark Karen's first Cancerversary, I put together a short video that chronicles some of the past year -- particularly the support that she got from friends and family. The theme song for the video is "I Run for Life" by Melissa Etheridge, a cancer survivor, and includes highlights from last year's Susan G. Komen 3-Day Walk for the Cure in Philadelphia in which Karen and the team she joined -- "For Our Girls" -- participated.<br /><br />The video tells a story of resiliency and hope -- not just Karen's, but that of all women who battle breast cancer and other forms of the disease. Looking back now on the past year, and the photos in the video in particular, throughout it all, Karen's smile remained bright -- a smile so bright, it's as if she swallowed the sun.<br /><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tUWE9yhfpqk&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tUWE9yhfpqk&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-17418215393615702772009-11-26T21:13:00.004-05:002009-12-01T15:05:39.534-05:00Giving thanks<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNYKUr_CZwPrdGBHN3t-ukNLr_rDTBF2qrBU-lOW1Mcd46qh-TY3_V7YzzR0RBDr_2ACO6fHQM4BExs33ZyPVbXhxp3Zdnd-nlyHrWc955bsrL0xC3qPwyU5Y85beyGnKJ5NvbDZC0VQ0/s1600/IMG_1707.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409954167289491922" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNYKUr_CZwPrdGBHN3t-ukNLr_rDTBF2qrBU-lOW1Mcd46qh-TY3_V7YzzR0RBDr_2ACO6fHQM4BExs33ZyPVbXhxp3Zdnd-nlyHrWc955bsrL0xC3qPwyU5Y85beyGnKJ5NvbDZC0VQ0/s320/IMG_1707.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">It's not what we have in our life, but who we have in our life that counts."</span></div><br /><div align="center"><em></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">j.m. laurence</span></em></div><br /><br /><p>This Thanksgiving, as our family counts our blessings, we have so much for which to be thankful: For the strength to fight cancer and tolerate the treatment...for the courage to face this daunting challenge....for the hope and optimism to beat this disease...for the skill and knowledge of the doctors and the compassion of nurses. But above all, our gratitude runs deepest for all of the love and support we have received from our friends, family, co-workers, neighbors and many others, including people we've never met before.</p><br /><p>Over the past six months, these caring people have provided Karen with a daily infusion that's far more powerful than any of the drugs that have flowed from her IV bag during chemotherapy. Their generous infusion of support counteracts the fear of cancer and the sick fog of chemotherapy. Their care and concern is a kind of anti-toxin -- a remedy that nurtures Karen's spirit and has sustained all of us during these past months. Indeed, the support of those who love you is a cure itself.</p><p>A year from now, when we think back to this time, our memories won't be of the diagnosis or the treatment, but rather, it will be of the many simple acts of kindness, friendship and love that have been repeated every day along this "journey", including:</p><ul><li><div>Soft blankets and a hand-woven prayer shawl -- gifts from Karen's friends -- have provided warmth and comfort during long chemo sessions.<br /><br /></div></li><li><div>Over three dozen family, friends, colleagues and neighbors have provided gift cards and meals -- from homemade soups to roast chicken with mashed potatoes. From slow-cooked ribs to Turkey Tetrazzini. From chicken Marsala to Cuban chicken. From Mexican lasagna to meatballs made from a friend's secret family recipe. Some meals arrive with bottles of wine and even dog biscuits for Caramel. Every dish was special -- not only for its unique flavors and the talent of the cooks, but because of the time, energy, care and thoughtfulness that went into preparing and delivering them.<br /><br /></div></li><li><div>Friends and family have bought Karen a myriad of hats and scarves -- colorful, fun, practical, whimsical and too many to count. They allow Karen to make a fashion statement every day and keep her bare head warm as the weather gets colder.<br /><br /></div></li><li><div>Other friends have sent over their "cleaning lady" to help with household chores -- a generous gesture and a big help for me since my job forced me to travel almost every week.<br /><br /></div></li><li><div>With 16 rounds of chemo -- all in Philadelphia -- we were fortunate to have a reliable group of friends who drove Karen to many of her treatments and spent nearly a day at the Penn breast cancer center with Karen as she met with her doctor and received her infusion.<br /><br /></div></li><li><div>Care packages filled with lotions and other soothing items, books, magazines and CDs to help make each day a little easier.<br /><br /></div></li><li><div>And a steady stream of flowers, phone calls, emails and cards -- enough to fill a shopping bag -- continue to arrive with words of encouragement, support and offers of prayers.<br /><br /></div></li></ul><p>These are simple acts that have had a powerful impact on us -- especially Karen.<br /><br />This past year has been a long and often difficult one. But it has been made easier because of all that our friends and family have shared with us. It's difficult to imagine getting through this without such incredible support. I recently came across a fitting Turkish proverb, "No road is long with good company." Battling cancer is often a long road, but with good company -- friends, family, co-workers and neighbors -- that road is made shorter and less bumpy. </p><p>Thank you!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Times;"></p></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Times;"><br /></span>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-90466105237316093722009-11-19T23:13:00.004-05:002009-11-20T01:25:07.158-05:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKzfcZNTkuSed5qdO2Fliqc3tUlfIEiVTfl3JPOImzywjCUP7jPjhK2iWJapNcVaRwor9wSv_K3Gh0PgLqpDpZRrDwi98KtO6XFUeyo8bAWi1HmXSx9dT8obDFv9tHLLWkvvYgwNCFdfw/s1600/klw-strong.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 217px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406040341385320386" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKzfcZNTkuSed5qdO2Fliqc3tUlfIEiVTfl3JPOImzywjCUP7jPjhK2iWJapNcVaRwor9wSv_K3Gh0PgLqpDpZRrDwi98KtO6XFUeyo8bAWi1HmXSx9dT8obDFv9tHLLWkvvYgwNCFdfw/s320/klw-strong.jpg" /></a><br /><div align="center">Strength, courage and wisdom</div><div align="center">And it's been inside me all along</div><div align="center">Strength, courage and wisdom</div><div align="center">Inside of me</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><em>India.Arie</em></div><p>Twenty-two weeks and 16 rounds of chemotherapy later, Karen is still strong. Sure, her body has been ravaged and her energy drained by the cumulative effects of nearly six months of a difficult regimen of chemicals, but today, as the final drops of Taxol dripped from her IV bag, she took the first steps toward getting "on the other side" of this journey. The same strength, courage and wisdom that she drew upon for her first chemo treatment on July 9th was still inside of her when she finished her final round of chemo today. </p><p>Looking at the two photos above -- one taken on her first day of treatment and the other on her last -- the toll of the experience is apparent. On the outside, chemo has stripped her of her hair, eyebrows and eyelashes. Her skin is milky-white and her toenails are falling off. But her smile remains, always, as does her buoyant optimism. On the inside and on the outside, she's been fighting cancer every day, never losing hope and inspiring all of us along the way. </p><p>Karen could have opted for a less intensive and shorter treatment protocol. But faced with a diagnosis of the more aggressive triple negative cancer that has a higher rate of recurrence, she never thought twice about participating in a clinical trial that required 16 cycles of dose dense drugs, including the trial drug, Avastin. After all, she didn't want to ever have to go through this again if there was any chance that she could knock out cancer for good now. Bravely, she said yes to the trial. In the end, she endured that long trial only to learn after the 10th cycle that she was in the 20% of the trial participants that received a placebo instead of Avastin, the drug added specifically for the trial. Disappointing? Greatly. But she can rest easier knowing that she received more chemo than she might have otherwise received with a standard treatment protocol. </p><p>Today was an important milestone in the cancer journey. Yet, in many ways, the last treatment was strangely anti-climatic. Oddly, there were no cheers or high-fives in the "infusion room." Of course, we were both glad to end this chapter. Karen is anxious to begin the process of recovery and healing. To grow hair. To rediscover the taste of food. To sleep well. To simply feel good. But first there is radiation treatment -- perhaps as many as four to six weeks of daily radiation. While it doesn't loom as threatening and scary as the the chemotherapy, it represents another phase in the treatment course. And so, the journey continues. </p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-15166496848750532572009-10-22T14:27:00.006-04:002009-10-23T10:39:51.683-04:00And how was your morning?I have been travelling a lot these past few weeks for work and keeping up with what's happening at home and checking in is often done via email. I got this blog-worthy email response from Karen when I checked in with her this morning from Austin, Texas:<br /><br />Woke up at 4 AM after three hours of sleep.<br /><br />Found stink bug under covers with me. Freaked out.<br /><br />Got up. Changed sheets. Did laundry.<br /><br />Unloaded dishwasher.<br /><br />Scanned Internet for news clips on my client. Sent client emails at 5:30 am.<br /><br />Showered and dressed. Woke exhausted Phillies fan. Fed him healthy breakfast. Made myself eggs and English muffin. Did dishes.<br /><br />Walked dog. Kissed child goodbye.<br /><br />Got on 45 min conf call with client at 7:30 am. Left to catch train to Philadelphia for chemo appointment at 8:20 AM.<br /><br />Bought coffee and Tastykake donuts. Sat squishy fat ass down on train at 9:00 AM.<br /><br />Enjoying foliage of Lancaster County as I decompress and regret eating all six donuts. How's your morning? xo<br /><br />KarenBrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-69878255597415375702009-10-18T20:03:00.012-04:002009-10-20T23:30:10.618-04:00Walking on Sunshine<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCnswzRwRJUefE8DV7TNgkD0ckdHjys-9Ntq0pWsjkUGLp_-Bi70-0sdz7Dc_hmCHXB2lgzCM_drJGnvAO9XSsIfdo_wzL6CLcb_UzZIbkLyyzvl7PohdsunB3o2z-IKl_msJhM91ZcrA/s1600-h/team+photo.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394188378307664882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCnswzRwRJUefE8DV7TNgkD0ckdHjys-9Ntq0pWsjkUGLp_-Bi70-0sdz7Dc_hmCHXB2lgzCM_drJGnvAO9XSsIfdo_wzL6CLcb_UzZIbkLyyzvl7PohdsunB3o2z-IKl_msJhM91ZcrA/s400/team+photo.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG3trqxLCZBdb8FzKvFsUuNObXumdPDiOepml7ekWrZf5gOyi7co41jUgW4VYZ9_TH3rcydOkpcoBQi-_OUlDUmAB6xqIT0HgalXn8JmVzQL5LAgejc2Iw_HZMgdZsd4AAugcPi0G42NM/s1600-h/team+photo.jpg"></a>There are heroes, and then there are <em>super</em>heroes. Ordinary people doing extraordinary things.<br /><br />People like the six women from the Neiman Group -- Amy, Cate, Whitney, Alex, Kelly and Karen -- who joined thousands of others this weekend in the Susan Komen 3-Day, 60 mile Walk for the Cure in Philadelphia.<br /><br />Despite a Nor'easter that swirled around them and prompted the organizers to cancel Friday and Saturday's walk segments, the Neiman Team -- "For Our Girls" -- kept their promise. They stuck to their plan and their commitment to a greater cause. With the official walking course closed, they took to the shelter of the King of Prussia Mall and walked 20 miles around the mall. On Saturday, with the official walk still postponed, they braved the unseasonably cold temperatures and steady rain and walked another 20 miles. The weather would not stop this team.<br /><br />Karen joined the team on Sunday, originally hoping to participate in the opening ceremony and walk just a few miles to show her support. But those of us who know Karen also know that she never does anything part way. When she's in, she's all in. And so just three days after her chemo treatment, and without the juice of her wonder drug, Decadron (more on that later), she walked today's entire 15 mile course.<br /><br />Was it lunacy for Karen to undertake such an ambitious effort with no training and weakened by 11 chemo treatments? Maybe. Her doctor gave her a green light to participate -- but that was when Karen planned to only walk a few miles. Yet she walked -- energized by the honor of participating in a emotional tribute and celebration of cancer survivors -- a group to which she now belonged. She walked -- lifted by the support of her friends and propelled by an inner strength that only she could understand. Though the weather was gloomy, as they walked across the finish line, Karen and the Neiman Team were walking on sunshine.<br /><br />Many tears flowed as the walkers raised their sneakers to honor the cancer surviors. I can't adequately capture the emotions these women felt as they walked the course or participated in the emotional closing ceremonies. For Karen, the event, was incredibly moving. It was a moment she had not yet experienced in her "journey" and may very well prove to be a transformative one.<br /><br />To Amy, Cate, Alex, Kelly, Whitney and Karen -- and to all those who participated in the 3-Day Walk or made a donation (the Neiman Team raised over $15,000; the Philadelphia walk raised over $8 million), congratulations on this extraordinary achievement!<br /><br />And to those who read the blog, please take a moment to congratulate Karen and the Neiman Team by leaving a comment on this blog posting. I am sure that they would appreciate your support and encouragement.<br /><br />For more photos of the walk and the event, go to: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/forourgirls">www.flickr.com/photos/forourgirls</a></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-53745691350287255682009-10-11T23:23:00.009-04:002009-10-12T11:50:26.522-04:00This One's For the Girls!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLmrLTqnr5BC_ATL_6-xynodjgpIFYnnALAVsTuTkrd7QRBOQmzc9JVItvAhYvPOuUENmilDkYoXA3PrGCbwZg1ZDcZG5xG5Ri_RRgn_mJRfQbcfHiFBvfK-jIGkOzxgEhQDlpMN0rtms/s1600-h/BBB_009.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391554941475066098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 286px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLmrLTqnr5BC_ATL_6-xynodjgpIFYnnALAVsTuTkrd7QRBOQmzc9JVItvAhYvPOuUENmilDkYoXA3PrGCbwZg1ZDcZG5xG5Ri_RRgn_mJRfQbcfHiFBvfK-jIGkOzxgEhQDlpMN0rtms/s320/BBB_009.jpg" border="0" /></a> The invitation read: <strong><span style="color:#ff99ff;">Beef, Beer and Boobs! </span></strong>-- an invite sure to get the attention of any guy. But this wasn't about the guys (it never is). This one's for the girls!<br /><br />Once again, Karen's friends and her colleagues at work have turned out in force to show their support for her and the fight against breast cancer. Last week, her colleagues (including the guys, of course) from the Neiman Group held a benefit to raise money for five women in the office who will participate in this weekend's Susan G. Komen 3-Day Walk for the Cure in Philadelphia.<br /><br />The well-attended event brought together many of Karen's friends, co-workers, clients, fellow breast cancer survivors and even a guest celebrity, Dr. Andy Baldwin, the star of the 2007 television series, <em>Bachelor: An Officer and a Gentleman.</em> Baldwin is raising awareness for his own cause -- childhood obesity -- with a 420-mile bike ride across Pennsylvania.<br /><br />Thanks to the generosity of so many wonderful people, the team raised over $15,000 on Wednesday evening. The team from Neiman Group -- Alex Wagner, Amy Muntz, Cate Olyer, Kelly LaMark and Whitney Shaeffer -- head into this weekend's 60-mile walk energized by the success of the fundraiser and eager to honor and celebrate the courage and determination of the thousands of women battling breast cancer, including many like Karen who they know personally. They walk for those who face cancer today, but also "for our girls" in the future, so they might not face this ugly disease.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs0pOkjKzdtnxpcO9GR2-8QI4Z393hp9xCDUQuFk4PuYZArV6FiAJ7blaa0meuTyuz6AOqQMrpH2fruDvP1DJjGPJyb5TbQ70hvMEgMNlGZqNP81frsRy6ye6RROzzDC_YvQqDih31xxE/s1600-h/Andy_Baldwin_040.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391712196517393138" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs0pOkjKzdtnxpcO9GR2-8QI4Z393hp9xCDUQuFk4PuYZArV6FiAJ7blaa0meuTyuz6AOqQMrpH2fruDvP1DJjGPJyb5TbQ70hvMEgMNlGZqNP81frsRy6ye6RROzzDC_YvQqDih31xxE/s320/Andy_Baldwin_040.jpg" border="0" /></a>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-66183889244627185742009-09-27T23:35:00.005-04:002009-09-30T01:35:21.994-04:00The Burden to Be Strong<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD0GhsqOAg6HRmkGRgu3SVtzv9OGEZGGxXNuhtf3nv7kfvgrkLip1ZSPbywXtQGvk3c6rQM1vnvpU4X5trg678E-oIN2L8xOG8B95LEDrjBscibvDN6i_YtyBTvza6FgSpcbX_bG7jPW8/s1600-h/klw+at+chemo.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386743301902427666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 246px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 322px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD0GhsqOAg6HRmkGRgu3SVtzv9OGEZGGxXNuhtf3nv7kfvgrkLip1ZSPbywXtQGvk3c6rQM1vnvpU4X5trg678E-oIN2L8xOG8B95LEDrjBscibvDN6i_YtyBTvza6FgSpcbX_bG7jPW8/s320/klw+at+chemo.jpg" border="0" /></a> With last Thursday's treatment, Karen has reached the half way point in her chemotherapy. There was no singing and dancing to celebrate the metaphoric "light at the end of the tunnel." Instead, she approached it just like the week before, and the week before that: get up, get on with it and move forward.<br /><br />That's what you do when you have cancer. Is there a choice, really?<br /><br />Karen's hope hasn't faded, but the facade of strength has begun to show cracks. Behind her ever-present smile that seems to buoy others more than herself is a flu-like fatigue that no amount of rest seems to ease.<br /><br />New in town for the chemo production playing out at home is: "The Change of Life". Hot flashes have thrown Karen's internal thermostat off kilter. And weepy emotions flow without warning. It's all new here..for all of us. Yet still, there's: get up, get on with it and move forward.<br /><br />We've heard it before, "That which does not destroy us makes us stronger." Some might say it's a challenge put before cancer patients as they go through treatment. The pressure to be strong is very real.<br /><br />I've come to realize that Karen carries a burden to be strong, because she must, but also because we want her to be. We expect cancer patients to <em>battle</em> cancer as <em>brave</em> <em>fighters. </em>These words -- and I've used them repeatedly in my blog, helping to fuel this <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">expectation</span> -- convey the image of a strong warrior. But Karen is not a warrior. Yes, she is strong -- in more ways than one -- but when it comes to cancer, she has no choice but to be strong. As she puts it, "you do what you have to do."<br /><br />There are days when falling into self-pity and despair would be much easier than fighting. But in the six months since her diagnosis, I'm not sure I could count even one day when she retreated into self-pity. This is tough work...to stay upbeat as your body and mind tries to bring you down.<br /><br />Soon, there will seven treatments left, then six, then five....and Karen will move beyond all of this. Perhaps stronger, but relieved of the burden to constantly be strong.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-79437455795670222252009-09-15T23:12:00.005-04:002009-09-19T19:40:56.986-04:00Race for the Cure<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL8lhAyPMYfG3QzHJlasJb77HNEc5VXcBaOqaloXV-6EXr6ci9ACsaFNyt_EOnb6f0mM1msZhYrlXqTObUz2l2Q5eJmQD2nGqREb1G_IgFTbE76KtpN1zcR6egnQ-XHjsc8M-nmkQP-mo/s1600-h/komen+race.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382654845024473730" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 301px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 221px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL8lhAyPMYfG3QzHJlasJb77HNEc5VXcBaOqaloXV-6EXr6ci9ACsaFNyt_EOnb6f0mM1msZhYrlXqTObUz2l2Q5eJmQD2nGqREb1G_IgFTbE76KtpN1zcR6egnQ-XHjsc8M-nmkQP-mo/s320/komen+race.bmp" border="0" /></a>This past weekend, the Walsh family made a strong showing in support of breast cancer awareness and research -- participating in two Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure events in Scranton, Pa. and New York City. On Saturday, over 20 family members in Scranton ran and walked the 5k course as part of a team organized by our niece, Sarah. I joined my brother, Chris, and his family and my brother, Will -- along with over 25,000 other supporters -- in a race through Central Park on a beautiful Sunday morning.<br /><br />These were great events that brought my family together to support an important cause and to honor Karen -- and thousands of others -- fighting breast cancer. A huge thank you to Chris who raised a very impressive $5000 and to Sarah who recruited family members and friends in Scranton.<br /><br />For me, the event marked my first race. Not my very first charity race...my first race ever (unless you count when I ran track in middle school). I can't think of a better way or place to have made my entrance. The scene in NYC was overwhelming as a sea of runners and walkers of every age, gender and race came together to show their support. Given our family's personal experience these past several months, it was impossible not to be moved by the commitment, concern, hope and encouragement of so many wonderful people. They ran or walked in memory or celebration of their own friends and family, but I also realized that those 25,000+ people were running for our family...for Karen. It's powerful when you stop to realize that these people run for someone you love.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5iX4zUIpTco9IXjz5H6qSNRtv8M_FeF-ruxb8xwUlH8MC0v6fTAKvGYyylKr8FT5ryA1sg1KZn4UwJAWmSewf00HPEvEnu-gmwe3vAJDHNT_Dj96unTnLx7hOTCvU-yvQZ2z5rjPNXcg/s1600-h/Race+for+Cure_Sarah+and+Friends.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383327049865516690" style="WIDTH: 310px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5iX4zUIpTco9IXjz5H6qSNRtv8M_FeF-ruxb8xwUlH8MC0v6fTAKvGYyylKr8FT5ryA1sg1KZn4UwJAWmSewf00HPEvEnu-gmwe3vAJDHNT_Dj96unTnLx7hOTCvU-yvQZ2z5rjPNXcg/s320/Race+for+Cure_Sarah+and+Friends.bmp" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjunNjHujn1yMxbqOT-_2PbFPWgSaseS-TNkiJftPclfyfQ5nB0vvGIItpLbNPaISXLleKkAVtZ4_68j7-RyPPkhWaOEBiE0v6V48CRM3iUwWGkOGcCif4Kgwh3d1yumHCtWWgiUKGv6Q/s1600-h/scranton+race+for+cure.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382653979182844658" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjunNjHujn1yMxbqOT-_2PbFPWgSaseS-TNkiJftPclfyfQ5nB0vvGIItpLbNPaISXLleKkAVtZ4_68j7-RyPPkhWaOEBiE0v6V48CRM3iUwWGkOGcCif4Kgwh3d1yumHCtWWgiUKGv6Q/s320/scranton+race+for+cure.jpg" border="0" /></a></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-12091689731652421552009-09-03T23:56:00.021-04:002009-09-05T09:14:12.973-04:00"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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><div>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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />"The worst is over," say the doctors.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. </div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-12980736663510708552009-08-25T21:30:00.001-04:002009-08-26T22:49:41.822-04:00Walk in Jen's Shoes<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAoLls0oVTY8JlDOy5VH8FXOH-PfTOq8yEJ0ddzbm8Wedb6mk-JzrC_n-O3LrjUsKssXr7vf9_DuwhEnzMZgvG9Y4jBQ0_f6wdOsoy14dn4RJsTGPSwC-iBvVbhYzO8T_sZBiXEpu6Bpg/s1600-h/jen6.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374100790573489202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAoLls0oVTY8JlDOy5VH8FXOH-PfTOq8yEJ0ddzbm8Wedb6mk-JzrC_n-O3LrjUsKssXr7vf9_DuwhEnzMZgvG9Y4jBQ0_f6wdOsoy14dn4RJsTGPSwC-iBvVbhYzO8T_sZBiXEpu6Bpg/s320/jen6.jpg" border="0" /></a>Walk a mile in Jen's shoes. Better yet, walk 60 miles in Jen's shoes.<br /><br />Last weekend, Karen's sister-in-law, Jen, joined hundreds of other women and men in the Twin Cities for the Susan G. Komen 3-Day Breast Cancer Walk. She walked in honor of Karen and Dick, for Nancy and Oma, and for so many friends, mothers, fathers, grandparents and children whose lives have been touched by cancer. The event raised over $6 million for breast cancer research and Jen raised an impressive $5000!<br /><br />But more important than the money she raised is the personal commitment that Jen made in training for this weekend and walking the 60 grueling miles over three days -- an effort at least as challenging as running a marathon and just as exhausting. <br /><br />For Jen, the walk was a humbling experience. Despite blisters and aching muscles, Jen and her team endured the pain, knowing that those who battle cancer experience much greater pain and discomfort. <br /><br />Without being there among the hundreds of walkers and supporters, it's difficult to convey the incredible emotion and energy driving these selfless individuals. They honor us all. And for that, we are grateful. <br /><br />I applaud Jen's dedication, hard work, compassion and great physical exertion. Awesome job, Jen!Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-15848589533806567922009-08-22T14:35:00.007-04:002009-08-22T20:04:22.583-04:00A Father and Daughter's Shared Journey<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqaKQyU8wEIfIlqfJ0AEJNAEtSMNoKM4ofEGGffSbbPcE3SthpAdDgn9HGAbzLsjSNEPHXNyn7eYq-yFVjglsnE6abtORHrjkcCPWCA75_bU0PvAUOi9UxsjyVLZFGL95pB8qoZDBZ7ME/s1600-h/dick+huart1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372849812828392866" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 292px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqaKQyU8wEIfIlqfJ0AEJNAEtSMNoKM4ofEGGffSbbPcE3SthpAdDgn9HGAbzLsjSNEPHXNyn7eYq-yFVjglsnE6abtORHrjkcCPWCA75_bU0PvAUOi9UxsjyVLZFGL95pB8qoZDBZ7ME/s320/dick+huart1.jpg" border="0" /></a>This past week, while Karen underwent her fourth chemo treatment in Philadelphia, over 1100 miles away in Woodbury, Minnesota, her Dad sat in a similar blue recliner as toxic chemo drugs ran through an IV line into his veins and raced through his bloodstream in search of hyperactive cancer cells.<br /><br />While Karen is battling breast cancer, her father, Dick, is battling prostate cancer.<br /><br />It's a dark reality: a father and daughter fighting their own cancers and enduring lengthy chemo treatments at the same time. Separated by five states, they find themselves on similar paths hoping to -- no, determined to -- beat cancer and move on with their lives.<br /><br />Sharing this disease can give way to a multitude of empathetic emotions between father and daughter. Yet, it's also a strange, almost awkward, bond to share. Is it somehow easier for Dick, who’s left with tiny wisps of a white crew cut after months of Taxotere, to relate to the trauma that Karen is facing with her own hair loss? I know that it's difficult for Karen to be so far away from her dad at this time.<br /><br />They speak little of their fate or their fears, or the details of their treatments. Instead, they share useful tips, like Dairy Queen strawberry milkshakes, Dick's near-daily elixir for taste buds that have all but lost their receptors for flavor -- unless you consider metal a flavor, and Karen’s craving for scrambled eggs and spinach to ward off nausea.<br /><br />Dick fights his battle with a “play-the-cards-you're-dealt” acceptance and a determination to get out on the golf course as often as possible. But they haven't been easy cards to play. Only retired a few years, he's already endured quintuple heart bypass surgery, radiation for his prostate cancer and now a long chemotherapy regimen. This isn't exactly how Hallmark or Charles Schwab portray the golden years, but he never complains. Dick still finds great joy in his Saturday morning golf games, his weekly cardiac workouts and a good book curled up with his dog, Bella.<br /><br />Sadly, cancer is no stranger to Karen's family. Her mother, Kathy, valiantly fought colon cancer, losing her battle after four difficult years in which she tried every drug imaginable in an effort to have more time with her grandchildren. Karen's stepmother, Nancy, bravely fought cancer as a new mother, beating Hodgkin’s Disease some 25 years ago when the anti-nausea drugs were not anywhere near as potent as they are now. And Karen's cousin, Larry, took on colon cancer with his trademark guts and wicked sense of humor right until the end.<br /><br />One thing we have learned from Karen’s loved ones is that there is great strength and faith in this family and they have all shown Karen how to fight cancer with courage, dignity and grace. <div></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-32142176426746327562009-08-17T20:53:00.013-04:002009-08-19T19:21:26.796-04:00I am not my hair!<img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 285px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 203px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371522476218907570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdePwBgoNAcxg-1on7oYsxDM350KC7niBZsfc9zLFATzz5wb33YS1ps9-n3jkJTL_2Bnpi3NvRwFcmpX4WaJjBpToIxHfjukcb555_bR5q-ds9Gwi_8L9snfPXG8weoh64OyWjNss8vQ/s320/bald+mannequin.jpg" />Karen has decided to bare it all...her bald head that is. These days, as the temperature has broken 90 degrees for several days in a row, she has tossed aside her caps, scarves and hats and stepped out into the world -- or at least Harrisburg -- as bald as a full moon.<br /><br />Clearly, she's feeling more comfortable with her new look. She has the good looks, not to mention a nicely shaped skull, to pull it off. She strides down the street like some sort of exclamation point (an upside down one, perhaps) that proclaims her new-found self-confidence. And she's having fun with it too. Sitting hairless in a colorful summer dress among a large crowd of 9th grade students and parents at Jack's high school orientation today, she laughed, "I look like you stole me from a department store."<br /><br />Her friends shout out, "You go girl!" I agree. <div><br /></div><div>Yes, she's feeling bold, but her acceptance of her transformed beauty hasn't quite caught up with her boldness. Because, despite how easily she appears to throw caution to the wind, she admits it's still quite jarring when she catches her reflection in a window or stands before the bathroom mirror in the morning. And no matter how good she may feel about herself or how bold she may be, the hair loss remains a constant reminder of the journey she is on and the toll of cancer.<br /><div><div><br /><div align="center"><em>I am not my hair</em></div><div align="center"><em>I am not this skin</em></div><div align="center"><em>I am not your expectations, no, no<br /></em></div><div align="center"><em>I am not my hair </em></div><div align="center"><em>I am not this skin</em></div><div align="center"><em>I am a soul that lives within<br /></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">(I am not my hair...India.Arie)</span> </em></div></div></div></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-61492097849954947342009-08-10T23:50:00.004-04:002009-08-11T13:35:38.414-04:00Can duct tape fix cancer?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNx_h9ZqZuQEYQPsIEIxXYZbiANgsxeDtGo1WX9pUC50TPU2ZXA3_gGSH2FdrvYuZfiKAePgl2IP8CdJaOe0A1nzAs_Of9I3DA1zKInJhed_VJw3_x9VubO4UC1irB1ox8f5GhJ7tj6qo/s1600-h/Karen,+Dave+and+Anne.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368561746502076386" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 294px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNx_h9ZqZuQEYQPsIEIxXYZbiANgsxeDtGo1WX9pUC50TPU2ZXA3_gGSH2FdrvYuZfiKAePgl2IP8CdJaOe0A1nzAs_Of9I3DA1zKInJhed_VJw3_x9VubO4UC1irB1ox8f5GhJ7tj6qo/s320/Karen,+Dave+and+Anne.jpg" border="0" /></a>My idea of doing repairs around the house is using duct tape to hold together whatever is broken or loose. In fact, for Father's Day, Karen and Jack bought me a wooden sign that reads, "Mr. Fix-It. Dad can fix anything with duct tape." And if duct tape doesn't work, well, I simply ignore it. <div><br /></div><div>The fact is, I shouldn't even own a toolbox. But I do... and it's full of a mess of wrenches, drill bits, pliers, nuts, bolts and screwdrivers which I don't use, not to mention dozens of other tools for which I have no idea their purpose. But a guy needs a toolbox.</div><div><br /></div><div>When Karen announced that her brother, Dave, and sister, Anne, from Minnesota would be visiting in a show of support, I didn't realize that I was getting Bob Villa from This Old House for a week. Karen, knowing my lack of handyman talent, had actually warned Dave in advance that she had a "honey-do" list that had long been ignored by her "honey-don't." He came prepared with his own work gloves and work boots. This guy from Minnesota is serious. You betcha. </div><div><br /></div><div>When he arrived, I sheepishly showed Dave my toolbox and quickly departed for a short business trip to Long Island, comfortable that Karen would be in good hands and that he would be busy with an ambitious project list. And by the end of the week, Bob, er, Dave, had:</div><div><ul><li>silenced the pipes that rattled whenever we shut off a faucet (who would have thought that a simple 10 cent bracket could fix that so easily...jeez!)</li><li>fixed the pantry door handle that would fall out whenever we pulled on it (had been this way for, let's see, six months or more).</li><li>trimmed the dead tree branches, filling 17 garbage bags in the process,</li><li>unclogged the basement drain pipe so the two dehumidifiers -- that run around the clock to stop mold from growing on our basement walls -- had somewhere to drain (hmm...does mold cause cancer?),</li><li>replaced two porch light fixtures (whoa!... electrical work is way outside my comfort zone), </li><li>dug out and replaced a lamp post and fixture (taught Jack how to mix concrete),</li><li>cleaned out my tool box (I still don't know what's in there),</li><li>called the exterminator who rid us of cicada killers, don't ask, (to the tune of $353) and, oh by the way, found termites in the process (to the tune of $1100)...gee, thanks Dave! </li></ul><div>I must say that I was impressed and glad to have someone who knows how to change a light fixture without getting electrocuted in the process (I didn't realize that you need to switch off the circuit breaker first...boy, that would have been sad). </div><div><br /></div><div>So, we had a great week. Karen is overjoyed with her new porch lights (it's the little things in life that really matter). As for me, for now, I can leave the duct tape for the soles of my feet (seriously, I tape the dry, cracked, bleeding soles of my feet...the duct tape works wonders). </div><div><br /></div><div>Oh...Anne! Not to be forgotten. For she brought her energy, cooking talents and high school prep tutoring to our family last week. We enjoyed her rich and creamy risotto, wonderful sweet potatoes and special cocktails. Thankfully, she also helped kick start Jack's summer homework assignments, motivating him to get moving on long overdue school work. </div><div><br /></div><div>In the end, it wasn't the risotto or the porch lights that mattered the most. Simply having family here to visit (Karen's stepfather, Phil, also made a week long visit in July), is what sustains all of us during this difficult battle. Thanks!</div></div><div><div></div></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-1510706577413261202009-08-08T17:26:00.003-04:002009-08-08T23:09:08.363-04:00"Pain is temporary; quitting is forever." A personal note from Lance Armstrong<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9fopNfANA2cPlZEVCIjJ6iDdiikxLzFWtamt6LXXk__Zsp2wKOjCsUc8hgrghqPRFVE6WOw1DEjFgtw6Et8p0dLG3lZxxx5QDPff-atlEvD4STzBIY8CYr_-gHSPO2Wi_CbcYfAgXxT4/s1600-h/lance+armstrong+note.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367337426368195410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 224px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9fopNfANA2cPlZEVCIjJ6iDdiikxLzFWtamt6LXXk__Zsp2wKOjCsUc8hgrghqPRFVE6WOw1DEjFgtw6Et8p0dLG3lZxxx5QDPff-atlEvD4STzBIY8CYr_-gHSPO2Wi_CbcYfAgXxT4/s320/lance+armstrong+note.jpg" border="0" /></a> On Friday, Karen received a package from the Livestrong Foundation. At first, she thought it was like several other care packages she had received from cancer support organizations. But then she was surprised to open it and find a personal, hand-written note from Lance Armstrong himself.<br /><br />We don't know Lance Armstrong personally. But my college roomate, Rob Lettieri, and his family, are personal friends of Lance. When they learned that Karen was battling cancer they called and asked Lance if he would send Karen a note of support. The note reads:<br /><br /><br /><em>Karen,<br /><br />Recently I spoke with Bob Lettieri and he indicated that you are in a fight with cancer. </em><br /><br /><em>Please do not give up as you can beat this. </em><br /><br /><em>I am enclosing a few items from the Lance Armstrong Foundation to help you in that regard. Please let me know as to how I or the foundation may be of assistance to you. "Pain is temporary; quitting is forever."<br /><br />Lance Armstrong </em><br /><br /><em></em><br />Just back from the Tour de France and jotting a note off to Karen. Pretty cool.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-24199961440314026082009-08-07T18:05:00.001-04:002009-08-08T22:46:05.191-04:00"Just do it...then do it again!"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrn0vxtTyyHQpmUaQEPtvyjSS9vjMCyXPzOKixlvaexcD7yVR5n2smBWtxUKmVFRsOpiH5yB3CmCYF9YoVoZ-GTYfkimp0JCAlY0VMaShCnZIkXpLNWyevCQzKu-LxHInAJsSSeIYZBTk/s1600-h/chemo+round+%233.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367743638593278274" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrn0vxtTyyHQpmUaQEPtvyjSS9vjMCyXPzOKixlvaexcD7yVR5n2smBWtxUKmVFRsOpiH5yB3CmCYF9YoVoZ-GTYfkimp0JCAlY0VMaShCnZIkXpLNWyevCQzKu-LxHInAJsSSeIYZBTk/s320/chemo+round+%233.jpg" border="0" /></a> The marketeers at Nike have decided that "Just Do It" isn't enough anymore. Now we have to "Just do it...then do it again." For Karen and her chemo treatments, it's again...and again...and again...for a total of 16 treatments over 5 1/2 months. Yesterday marked only treatment #3 of the potent AC (adriamycin and cytoxan) chemo cocktail, with a possible splash of Avastin (that is, if she's actually getting Avastin and not the placebo). She has one more AC treatment on August 20th, before starting with another chemo drug, Taxol, for 12 weeks.<br /><br /><div><div>So far, she's tolerated the AC better than expected. And believe it or not, she's still smiling...and maintaining a busy schedule between working and gladly welcoming a steady stream of her family members from Minnesota (more on that later).<br /><br />Because the chemo drugs have a cumulative effect, the toxins are building up in her body, which means she's almost certain to experience greater fatigue and face the onset of new side effects. During the first couple weeks of treatment we anxiously and nervously maintained a 24 hour side effect watch. No more. Some side effects are now more predictable: mouth sores, waves of nausea, fatigue. We remain thankful for every good day Karen has and for the strength to get through the difficult days.<br /><br />After treatment #2, Karen faced the loss of her hair head on (pun intended). And for the past two weeks the remaining tiny splinters of hair that held on have all but fallen loose too. Though she's found comfort in a colorful variety of hats and scarves ("The Sandra" wig still sits atop a styrofoam head), she has also boldly left the house topless (on her head, that is). My point is this, the "journey" continues on a path of hairpin turns and steep hills, but we're still moving forward and the wheels haven't come off....yet! </div><br /><div></div></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-17705827831775991572009-07-25T18:30:00.004-04:002009-07-27T21:56:22.396-04:00It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye...or their hair.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf2D7P6tEtx7ZF2Ivr61aXsdZ9i2FsXPJ3P1Z6HF2QujYI9QQWhk5ujZCC9G0i2Up9SP3cA3h7_oaNt4czLn6WMAiJ17Jmh94NgvkXEw4BHaaquBm7kEmB25GCjBjCx8V7st0awsh_nMg/s1600-h/hair_pilej.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362505695613929298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 215px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf2D7P6tEtx7ZF2Ivr61aXsdZ9i2FsXPJ3P1Z6HF2QujYI9QQWhk5ujZCC9G0i2Up9SP3cA3h7_oaNt4czLn6WMAiJ17Jmh94NgvkXEw4BHaaquBm7kEmB25GCjBjCx8V7st0awsh_nMg/s400/hair_pilej.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="left"><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_nGeP1MXtxUr5md9qw59L-YPwA-LD_4UuofDgGd10-b6_U23OD4ml9ZbcdgjMCuSw_rBQTR-1S64Kd81jotGFZUtsYJrfDxDuONEYz-NujCelbTynku1uIa4JCs6IufSJ1gQcJ7FYGs/s1600-h/hair_pilej.jpg"></a><em>They say time takes its toll on a body,</em> </div><div align="center"><em>makes a young girl's brown hair turn gray.</em></div><div align="center"><em>But honey, I don't care</em></div><div align="center"><em>I ain't in love with your hair</em> </div><div align="center"><em>And if it all fell out</em> </div><div align="center"><em>Well, I'd love you anyway.</em></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Randy Travis (Forever and Ever)</span></em><br /></div><div align="left"><br />OK, the "Hair Retrospective" was funny while it lasted. But not funny enough to get through this.<br /></div><br />There was no way to help prepare Karen for losing her hair to chemotherapy. Seriously, what does a man understand about the relationship between a woman and her hair? Despite the many hair transformations she's cried over throughout the years, this would be different. Or so I thought.<br /><br /><br />Signaled a few days in advance by a head-tingling sensation, she started shedding her hair last weekend. It was just as predicted: 10 days into her treatment. First, it was more than the usual strands of hair around the bathroom sink. But by yesterday, a day after her second chemo treatment, strands of hair became fistfuls of hair. And this morning, it just got worse. Karen was literally pulling her hair out. A small wastebasket quickly filled with hair. It was gut-wrenching to witness.<br /><br /><br />It takes a brave woman to surrender her hair to a set of clippers. Resigned to the reality that the shedding would only get worse, Karen agreed to let me cut her hair short and use the clippers to shave off the rest. Let's just say that I probably don't have any hope for a career in hairstyling (not that I planned one), but using tender care, I clipped her hair down to a 1/4 inch buzzcut. She sat there with quiet and calm acceptance as I pushed the clippers over her head creating a wide swath of brown hair that tumbled to a pile at my feet. The chemo will give up even the little bit of hair that's left and it too will find its way to the wastebasket in the days ahead.<br /><br /><br />The anticipation and dread of this moment has gnawed at Karen -- and me -- for days, perhaps weeks. But today, I was moved by how Karen handled it with such inspiring courage, calmness and grace. There were a few tears at first, but she ended it with her great big smile -- truly, a smile against which no hairstyle can compete. Karen is beautiful, not because of her hair, but simply because she is beautiful. I continue to be in awe of how Karen has fought this fight, and today was no exception.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ8S__HfBLsY_VvkM0YAoTfZIFch73Ct0lyG2rmkarUE0vvzuh8Q7QbFqhg7RI035eFD0QxvT1eqzc_paMHgWEJD4Y7ilhFl-auLZTkRulhJj9uPIfi6TmKvom6UBM8qDdUA_-8qDbIRk/s1600-h/klw+post+haircut.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362526756478233714" style="WIDTH: 311px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ8S__HfBLsY_VvkM0YAoTfZIFch73Ct0lyG2rmkarUE0vvzuh8Q7QbFqhg7RI035eFD0QxvT1eqzc_paMHgWEJD4Y7ilhFl-auLZTkRulhJj9uPIfi6TmKvom6UBM8qDdUA_-8qDbIRk/s400/klw+post+haircut.jpg" border="0" /></a></div></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-57473110934041850332009-07-20T21:33:00.008-04:002009-07-20T23:24:26.328-04:00Eleven DaysToday marks Karen's 11th day of her 133 day chemotherapy regimen. There's nothing magical about 11 days. But when you're fighting cancer, you find reason to celebrate just about anything. And right now, I suppose we could celebrate that Karen is 8% of the way through her chemotherapy. Eleven days closer to the end of chemo. I'm a glass-is-half-empty kind of guy, so the fact that I can see the positive in 11 days when 122 more lie ahead is quite impressive.<br /><br />The first 11 days have been relatively good ones for Karen. She's had some side effects and a few more reveal themselves every day. And so far she's been able to continue to work a full schedule. Don't get me wrong, this isn't a "kinder, gentler" chemo protocol. It will get harder. She hasn't lost any hair yet, but we've just entered the "10-14 day" period when hair loss is most likely to occur. Maybe the laughs she got from the "Hair Retrospective" will carry her through those difficult several days. Or not.<br /><br />Eleven days down and 122 more to go. With cancer, you take every good day you can get and enjoy it. And for now, that's exactly what we'll do.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-82395761327426323202009-07-13T22:06:00.013-04:002009-07-14T11:12:48.151-04:00Karen's Hair: A Retrospective<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRSG3U-3HLID8iBSQnt6xy5JKfjvIy2r5GcpJ3PscdfFK-p9RQo9YI0LL_aY53pvae-C-Mdg0y6TPgGdMlVgylO-djtHFYYlpKFtXcNtxur6vvewYMvAVE1gzapQ1Tvh3M_BO1gjP0538/s1600-h/styling+products_1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343684107067318194" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 287px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRSG3U-3HLID8iBSQnt6xy5JKfjvIy2r5GcpJ3PscdfFK-p9RQo9YI0LL_aY53pvae-C-Mdg0y6TPgGdMlVgylO-djtHFYYlpKFtXcNtxur6vvewYMvAVE1gzapQ1Tvh3M_BO1gjP0538/s320/styling+products_1.jpg" border="0" /></a> Let me be clear: Karen hates her hair. Or at least that's what it seems when she curses it most mornings in front of the mirror. (Let's also be clear: she doesn't hate it enough to lose it all...and she hasn't lost it yet).<br /><br />Wielding a blow dryer in one hand and juggling four different brushes in the other, she twirls it, twists it and bends it into shape. No fewer than five styling products stand at the ready for spritzing, pouffing, glossing, shining, straightening and spraying.<br /><br />The 30 minute ritual is repeated every morning and it's a good idea to steer clear of her during this time -- especially when she's got a hot curling iron in her hand.<br /><br />For Karen, the road to perfect hair is littered with stylists who have cut her bangs too short, left color on too long (resulting in an interesting magenta hue), didn't cut enough or, God help them, cut too much. From high-end salons in Washington, DC to a "stylist's" salon in his converted kitchen, Karen has gone from the pixie to the page boy and many bobs (hair, not men) in between.<br /><br />Chae, Ito, Daniel, Roe, Joseph, Ginger, David, Harold, Martine and Joe (to name a few): All but one has been handed their scissors and sent packing like a beauty school drop-out.<br /><p>One of chemo's most cruel punishments is the loss of hair. For women, it is a devastating blow, feared more than almost any side effect inflicted by the cancer treatment. Karen will be no exception. But so far -- her hair still firmly <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">rooted</span> as she waits for the chemo to ravage her normal healthy cells -- she has managed to keep on her game face. And thankfully, she still has a sense of humor. That's why Karen allowed me to "produce" this "Hair Retrospective" of her many, many hairstyles over the years. As she nears the day that she will bid farewell to her tresses for a while, you are invited to join us in paying tribute to her hairstory. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="WHITE-SPACE: pre;font-family:'Lucida Grande';font-size:9;" ><br /></span></p><p><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzvv38ZkLkTvpSWXcjsldY4hZBhnaXjkiBXehm1n8Z3Xya-2NgqBopGicBzVbZNfCYOykX7Ikf9lQWetkDOHA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p></p><p></p><p>To view still images only, go to: <a href="http://tinyurl.com/m6mp33">http://tinyurl.com/m6mp33</a></p><p>To view the video on YouTube, go to: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-BOwB-iZE0">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-BOwB-iZE0</a></p><p><br /></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-65471659101394145232009-07-09T16:00:00.000-04:002009-07-09T17:46:28.962-04:00Drip...drip...drip<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjivdFdJOxd5JanxYkWPTQDMQtp-O2r5J9TMcIRh-nLgJirXk32m3u95NQMkJ9ZTNXFFFHWzfvPfL5pToB-WIeG6TDgl0K6iFWmKzGlygo_frEgANiszdyT7LaD5Cm_SjUdEmbcQRwK_SE/s1600-h/infusion+room.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356577702013099602" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjivdFdJOxd5JanxYkWPTQDMQtp-O2r5J9TMcIRh-nLgJirXk32m3u95NQMkJ9ZTNXFFFHWzfvPfL5pToB-WIeG6TDgl0K6iFWmKzGlygo_frEgANiszdyT7LaD5Cm_SjUdEmbcQRwK_SE/s320/infusion+room.jpg" border="0" /></a> <em>What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.</em><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>Ralph Waldo Emerson</em></div><div></div><div></div><br /><div>Karen's first chemo treatment was, well, uneventful. It's been hard to know what to expect, despite the doctors' and nurses' careful review of everything that would happen today. We spent most of our time in pre-treatment consultations with the nurses and waiting for an available treatment room. But the "infusions" finally got underway around 3 pm today and were expected to take about 2.5 hrs.<br /><br /></div><div>Adriamycin, a Hawaiian Punch colored drug kicked things off, followed by a drug with a name that screams toxic (Cytoxan). With all you hear about the power of these drugs, you half expect the patient to turn green, double-over from nausea and start losing their hair as soon as the drug reaches the blood stream. But that's not the case, of course. Karen's been loaded up with anti-nausea drugs to combat the nausea and we're hopeful that they work their magic (at least until we make the 2 hr. trip back to Harrisburg). In fact, Karen might have several "good" days until her blood counts hit rock bottom and things get more difficult. Or the side effects could come on more quickly. We'll know soon enough how she reacts.<br /><br /></div><div>With the clinical trial Karen is participating in, there's no way to know for sure whether she is getting the clinical trial drug, Avastin, but there's certainly enough toxcicity in the other two chemo drugs to do more than enough damage to her cells -- unfortunately the good cells and the bad ones. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-36997745702585043882009-07-09T09:00:00.007-04:002009-07-10T15:29:30.739-04:00Big Strong Girl<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHYQB2ierot2l9L1JZqIld59V9Zsttr4F7Lec-wF5CdfXPYLINeIs8FwQo5vMSvcGsGzoWNP5iRxS4Oq2vrLfuabrrDVDAVWCI2JiLjJFRirx-zo2nfxhTdqdWiaxAjKITzJEcYEc6bWc/s1600-h/Karen_Strong+Girl.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356545042250884562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHYQB2ierot2l9L1JZqIld59V9Zsttr4F7Lec-wF5CdfXPYLINeIs8FwQo5vMSvcGsGzoWNP5iRxS4Oq2vrLfuabrrDVDAVWCI2JiLjJFRirx-zo2nfxhTdqdWiaxAjKITzJEcYEc6bWc/s320/Karen_Strong+Girl.jpg" border="0" /></a>Here we go....game on! Today is Karen's first chemo treatment.<br /><br />It's three months and one day from the day Karen first discovered a lump in her breast. I'd like to say that the past three months have gone quickly, but when you're waiting in anticipation of a big event -- like the start of chemotherapy -- time seems to move at a slower pace. Three months on this journey and "we've only just begun to fight." Now, more than ever, Karen will need to muster the strength, determination and courage to beat the cancer and endure the onslaught of 20 weeks of toxic chemotherapy. And you know what? Karen is up for the fight.<br /><br />Just look at her photo above taken this morning before we left for her first treatment. That's a look that says "don't mess with me" (Trust me, I've seen that look before and she means business).<br /><br />Karen is strong. A bit tired going into this next phase -- but strong and ready to get on with the treatment, kick cancer's ass and get back to normal.<br /><br /><div><div>A friend recently sent Karen a set of CDs she created with music she selected to bring her comfort and inspiration. One, called Big Strong Girl, seemed particularly appropriate:</div><div></div><div></div><div align="center">It's not now or never</div><div align="center">It's not black & it's not white</div><div align="center">anything worth anything</div><div align="center">takes more than a few days</div><div align="center">and a long, long night</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br />don't push so hard against the world</div><div align="center">you can't do it all alone</div><div align="center">and if you could, would you really want to?</div><div align="center">even though you're a <strong>big strong girl</strong>,</div><div align="center">come on, come on, lay it down</div><div align="center">the best made plans are your open hands<br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br />rest your head</div><div align="center">you've got two pillows to choose from</div><div align="center">and a queen size bed</div><div align="center">hold out for the the moon</div><div align="center">don't expect connection anytime soon</div><div align="center">feel the light caress your fingertips</div><div align="center">you have just begun</div><div align="center">the word has only left your lips</div><div align="center">maybe in time, you will find</div><div align="center">your arms are wrapped around the sun</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-25795811051937953432009-06-28T20:55:00.007-04:002009-06-28T21:17:48.097-04:00The "Sandra"<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZq7iO5Qyo_YpUCuZNoxL7SX1lajb6hQRd5gxWGYhp-Zx6m83pEQxlrHcHjDoFDtJ9dMvQ82XDWsXqbE0ZpQRHJ0ff1iF_xdHVbiXqpGD-YhG-6DXt8Dft_Z-DrprCo1mOFWO7NvaHSg/s1600-h/Karen+and+Sandy_Wigwam.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352547409459674514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZq7iO5Qyo_YpUCuZNoxL7SX1lajb6hQRd5gxWGYhp-Zx6m83pEQxlrHcHjDoFDtJ9dMvQ82XDWsXqbE0ZpQRHJ0ff1iF_xdHVbiXqpGD-YhG-6DXt8Dft_Z-DrprCo1mOFWO7NvaHSg/s320/Karen+and+Sandy_Wigwam.bmp" border="0" /></a> Karen and her friend, Sandy, picked up Karen's new wig on Saturday and it looks great! Truth is, you probably wouldn't know it's a wig unless you were really looking carefully, and even then I'm not sure. </div><div><br />In the end, it was the "Sandra" style with the brown and cinnamon color blend that won out over "Miranda" and "Emma", though it's quite possible those styles could sit on her head some day too. </div><div><br />For those who have followed Karen through her many hairstyles over the years, you've certainly seen this one before. I think this hairstyle is a throw-back to the summer of 2007 -- Karen's "bob" phase.<br /><br /></div><div>For the next few weeks it will sit perched atop a faceless styrofoam head on the dresser. Waiting. </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9kSL1ezOYudSlIRhqmZ_Ciz09e8LXYEY9Bz6i9PZ5GF3aHyXDRCu-lg8QvZlR3cduX8vnGRPBqhMSXtTRFgBoboOaBkha8QFs25v52TTmbI4X_2fGQYFoj-h5ZVIQR7L2Rx__bPHklI/s1600-h/Karen_Wigwam2.bmp"></a></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-32762897605650040522009-06-28T20:18:00.007-04:002009-06-28T21:34:26.133-04:00My Sister's Keeper<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5EPOH_pwImbRqgKR4BnHxNOXsH-HUr3YM4LsWOcNbwSSckVWlNuzPGwV6ZbzvfYHbsRAlivMdEkPFg1TcTUlnDaCSB1PRn6ZVKO4V5oYlS5f4RaKyCk5I40yli2ZHeDLGSZRWGBCh2dA/s1600-h/sisters+keeper.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352539521693977394" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 113px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 116px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5EPOH_pwImbRqgKR4BnHxNOXsH-HUr3YM4LsWOcNbwSSckVWlNuzPGwV6ZbzvfYHbsRAlivMdEkPFg1TcTUlnDaCSB1PRn6ZVKO4V5oYlS5f4RaKyCk5I40yli2ZHeDLGSZRWGBCh2dA/s320/sisters+keeper.jpg" border="0" /></a>Last night, Karen and I went to see "My Sister's Keeper," the story about Kate, a young girl with leukemia ,whose sister was conceived to help save Kate's life.<br /><br />OK, maybe going to see this movie wasn't such a good idea. Not that it was my idea, anyway. Let's just say that it's not the kind of movie you want to see if you've just been diagnosed with cancer and are about to begin chemotherapy. Within the first couple scenes, and in others later, we watched as Kate got violently sick and threw up blood. There was no hiding from the realities of having cancer and the effects of treatment. The young girl's bald head and lack of eyebrows were an all too vivid reminder of what was to come for Karen. It was a difficult movie to watch, but we stuck it out 'til the end. Yet, it definitely added to the anxiety and fears Karen is experiencing.<br /><br />It was a good movie with great performances by Abigail Breslin and Sofia Vassilieva. But I'm not sure it will win audiences given its difficult subject and graphic scenes of a young girl battling cancer.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-31362673146345599172009-06-27T23:30:00.001-04:002009-06-28T20:17:46.640-04:00Roller Coasters<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqkWJrDrabUnScYASoN4sgPvLl029UxcJ0zOXtqIhDYUZJB2fYqROqhkW-v1dOol3ozOsQfuaeflT5JBpiDN8aNEbvdYaXu7JBTLBLzOi27pIDJt0ifQeSRq_XwaRouTE_Ko379aoHaww/s1600-h/rcoaster.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351756295769558146" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 120px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 131px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqkWJrDrabUnScYASoN4sgPvLl029UxcJ0zOXtqIhDYUZJB2fYqROqhkW-v1dOol3ozOsQfuaeflT5JBpiDN8aNEbvdYaXu7JBTLBLzOi27pIDJt0ifQeSRq_XwaRouTE_Ko379aoHaww/s320/rcoaster.jpg" border="0" /></a> I hate roller coasters. In fact, I hate most amusement rides, but I hate roller coasters in particular. My stomach and roller coasters don't mix well.<br /><br />Yes, I know that roller coasters are an over-used metaphor for the ups and downs of a person's life. But I can't help but use that metaphor right about now. In these days leading up to the start of Karen's chemo treatment, it's as if our "cancer journey" is making the slow climb up the tracks to the crest of the first drop down the steepest hill. For Karen, that steep hill is her upcoming chemo treatment. The ride to the top is long and slow -- how better to build the anticipation and anxiety. As we climb, we can see the top, but we can't see what lies over the crest of the hill, which adds to the anxiety and uncertainty. But when we reach the top...away we go! In an instant, we're speeding down the hill. Whoosh! Your stomach muscles tighten (OK, mine do) and you brace yourself (OK, I do) as you fly along the tracks. From there you careen around sharp turns and up and down more hills. We can expect a similiar experience in the days ahead. And what about those who are also on board who have their arms raised high in the air? I think they must be the cancer surviors who have been through this before and who raise their arms as if to say "I've beat cancer" and it will be alright! Or perhaps they are all of our friends who have raised their arms high in the air as a sign of their support. Just as I know that I get off a real roller coaster in one piece -- shaken and dazed a bit -- I know that we will get off this roller coaster in one piece. Shaken and dazed, but in one piece.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-73562350059305589922009-06-23T23:24:00.005-04:002009-07-10T15:28:36.712-04:00Prêt-à-Porter (Ready to Wear)I took a short break from blogging. Not because I was tired of blogging, but because there wasn't much new with Karen's treatment. Up until this week, we have been in a sort of a holding pattern as we wait until chemotherapy begins on July 9th. But we have started to use this time to prepare in a few ways:<br /><ul><li>On Monday, Karen had a port implanted in her chest. This will make it oh so easier to infuse her with her chemo cocktail every two weeks. No need to try and find a good vein or poke her with a needle every time she has a treatment. Instead, the port will allow the oncology nurses a direct line right into her chest and right to her jugular vein. The Cytoxan and Adriamycin will get coursing through her blood stream in no time! The procedure to install the port -- though a short one -- still took the better part of a day between prep, procedure and recovery. And her recovery left her in more pain than she had expected. Karen doesn't have any fat on her chest. So without any "padding", the port and line is anything but comfortable.<br /><br /></li><li>We also did some wig shopping together on Saturday. I've driven by the Wigwam (cute name, huh?) literally hundreds of times in the past 10 years. Never did I think I might find myself inside actually shopping for a wig with my wife. But here I was -- assessing whether the "Emma" or the "Sandra" was the right look for Karen. Or maybe the "Miranda" would be better...more hip and youthful, perhaps. And color? Would brown with cinnamon highlights be flattering or should we stick with blond highlights? The platinum blond wig on the mannequin was an interesting look. I'm sure that would turn some heads. Imagine the fun you can have in a wig salon! Though we settled on one (which one will remain a secret, of course, until it's unveiled), I'm thinking we may pick at least one other...or maybe several more so Karen can have a different look every day. In the end, we had a little fun with our adventure and Karen took one step closer to confronting one of the most difficult side effects of chemotherapy.</li></ul>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8367006108211694707.post-70861039239603396182009-06-11T23:50:00.002-04:002009-06-12T00:19:21.557-04:00Shock and Awe<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWOp43aDYXStZYv4nCualnY_XNBgIxzOijiR8FuxZrf0DDC7npP4jV86eth_yQXP2TOlUTJRPwVbEaPP08Yq0cumykeFTN3MwXH4IY2dNGu7umsZS2LokCN4OywoLwJZOJhZxEwZQttvE/s1600-h/shock+and+awe.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346289153917630482" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 279px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 197px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWOp43aDYXStZYv4nCualnY_XNBgIxzOijiR8FuxZrf0DDC7npP4jV86eth_yQXP2TOlUTJRPwVbEaPP08Yq0cumykeFTN3MwXH4IY2dNGu7umsZS2LokCN4OywoLwJZOJhZxEwZQttvE/s320/shock+and+awe.jpg" border="0" /></a>Karen's planned chemotherapy regimen may best be described as "shock and awe." I'm not sure any chemo protocol is light fare, but the treatment course prescribed as part of the clinical trial she'll participate in shortly is designed to pound the hell out of any cancer that may be left in Karen's body.<br /><br />Today we got a chemotherapy tutorial -- a 2+ hour introduction to all-things-chemo. We left more educated and anxious to get this phase of treatment underway. We also left with a sense of dread (or I did) now that we are weeks away from Day 1 of a 22 week -- yes, 22 weeks -- course of treatment. That's 154 days, but who's counting?<br /><br />The chemotherapy protocol involves three standard chemo drugs (Adriamycin, Cytoxan and Taxol, referred to as AC/T) and a fourth drug (Bevacizumab, aka Avastin) introduced as part of the clinical trial. The purpose of the clinical study is to determine if adding Avastin to standard chemotherapy reduces the risk of the cancer coming back, compared to using standard chemotherapy alone. The study specifically targets patients "who have breast cancer that has been surgically removed but has features that have a significant risk of recurrence". Karen fits this profile because she has "triple negative cancer" which is more aggressive and has a higher rate of recurrence.<br /><br />The chemo protocol is what they call "dose dense" -- the intervals between each chemo treatment are shorter than with a standard protocol. So, instead of three weeks between each treatment, Karen will get chemo infusions every <em>two</em> weeks. Since the treatments are closer together, the theory is that the cancer has less of a chance to grow. But the higher frequency in treatments make these protocols tougher to endure. (Fortunately, Karen received an "I AM STRONG" T-shirt and bracelet from the American Cancer Society courtesy of a thoughtful client, so I think she's ready to go!).<br /><br />In an earlier posting I shared some of the common, possible and rare side effects from the drugs. They're all ugly, so I won't bother re-hashing them again. Before we left our appointment today, we were armed with at least 5 or 6 anti-nausea prescriptions. I think you get the point. We also got other tips and instructions on what to look for and what to do when any of the other nasty or serious side effects occur.<br /><br />In short, the 22 weeks of treatment break down like this:<br /><br /><ul><li>AC plus Avastin (or a placebo) every 2 weeks for 8 weeks. First treatment: 7/9</li><li>2 week break </li><li>Taxol (T) plus Avastin every week for 12 weeks. </li></ul>And on the 7th day, we rest.<br /><br />The toughest part of the treatment will be the AC -- the first 8 weeks -- in part because the drugs have a cumulative effect. Our goal: make it to Labor Day! Depending on which "arm" of the trial she is on, she may continue the Avastin drug for another 10 weeks after the Taxol. There's a 20% chance she will receive the placebo instead of Avastin (she won't know that until near the end of the trial). <br /><br />So...this is probably way more than you wanted to know (not that you asked). Chemo is fascinating, isn't it? If you logged on for more stories about Karen's attempt to squeeze into a new pair a jeans (see <em><strong>"Do I look fat in these jeans?"</strong> </em>below), I'm sorry to disappoint you. But since this "journey" would not be nearly as fun without showcasing more of "My Life with Karen" (as opposed to "My Wife with Cancer"), please be sure to return on a day when we're not consumed with this annoyance called cancer.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14277725609305765265noreply@blogger.com0