February 5, 2013 was a day that will separate my life into the "before" and "after." The fifth of February - the day I learned that the word "cancer" would forever be a part of my life. It is my desire to live with Jesus Christ in the forefront of my life, and cancer in the background. The words in this blog are therapeutic to me. I hope that they will be uplifting to you. Blessings, Kathy Lollar

Saturday, October 11, 2014

A VERY MERRY UNBIRTHDAY TO ME

"     What do you say about the first anniversary of one of the scariest and most miserable days of your life?  At this time last year, I had received my first of 18 injections of Velcade.  (They told me it would be a quick and simple injection.  They failed to tell me that it would be administered in my TUMMY!)  A week later, it was time for the first of nine Rituxan infusions.  I had been given all the warnings about side effects.  I just KNEW that the possibilities were for someone else - not me. 
     Silly me!  October 11, 2013.  Lab work done, Stevie at my side, and plenty to keep me occupied during the infusion, I was ready to begin the process of beating down the cancer in my bone marrow.  It was causing me some problems and things were about to get serious.  Ain't nobody got time for that!  The I.V. was inserted (a huge victory for this needle-phobic who ironically had blood cancer!)  I had given my explanation of Waldenstrom's macroglobulinemia to the oncology nurses, taught them how to spell it, pronounce it, and found that only one had ever treated a WM patient before today.  Lovely!  A scared needle-phobic with a disease that nobody has ever even heard of before!  Downhill from here.  Right?  Oh boy!  Was I wrong.  The nurse loaded me up with Tylenol to ward off the fever and chills, and steroids - Benadryl to prevent allergic reactions, but my body did not like Rituxan, not one bit!
     It was a very, very long and miserable day.  Because of the allergic reactions, and the starts and stops, only 1/2 of the drug was given during my 8 hour infusion.  I was loaded with so much Benadryl and steriods that I was totally wired!  No rest for me.  I watched every single drip through the tube into my arm.  My doctor and nurse stayed with me after hours to try to give me as much Rituxan as possible.  Finally, my doctor said that it was time to end the infusion - my body just couldn't take any more.  I was devastated to learn that an additional infusion would be added at the end of my treatment regimen to give me the correct amount of Rituxan.  So, late in the evening, after the infusion center had actually closed, Steve and went home with a new understanding of what the next six months would hold. 
     But that was then.  This is now.  Rituxan and Velcade did the trick.  I feel great!  (It's a funny thing, sometimes you don't even know that you are sick until you get better.)  No more anemia.  IgM protein in check.  WM and I are living together under "friendly" conditions.  (That's what my oncologist says, isn't that wierd?)  Next lab work will happen in three weeks.  We'll check the scoreboard then and make sure that my indolent cancer is still sleeping.  Until then, I am enjoying my "cancer vacation."  Three months at a time with no oncology visits (and no needles!)
     Today, I thank God for Rituxan, and the love-hate relationship that we have.  I am thankful that God equips some of his children to think scientifically and to understand the hidden secrets of the human body.  I honor the cancer fighters before me who participated in clinical trials to help researchers find appropriate drugs that are now available to help me.  WM, like so many other cancers, is not-yet-curable.  More research is needed.  WM is an orphan disease which means that little research funds are available.  WM has characteristics of both Multiple Myeloma (plasma cancer) and Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma (cancer of the lymph system.)  I classify myself under the Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma umbrella because there are not categories for a "lymphoplasmacytic" lymphoma like mine.   Today, I am proud and grateful that my friends and family have helped me raise nearly $3,500 for The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.  Some of the research that this money will fund will be used to develop treatments that will help me with my crazy blood disease. 
     On my very-merry unbirthday, the anniversary of my first Rituxan infusion, I would be most honored if you would give to this worthy cause.  No other gift would mean as much to me. 


A click of the "Team Lollar" logo above this post will take you to the "Light The Night Walk" website and you can quickly donate to The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. That would be the best very-merry unbirthday present ever!  Here's to research!  Here's to cures!







"In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God
in Christ Jesus concerning you."
1 Thessalonians 5: 18








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