WALDENSTROM'S DOESN'T WAIT

It's been a good while since I posted in this blog.  I have been trying to ignore my crazy blood and live like a normal person.  Diagnosed with Waldenstrom's macroglobulinemia in February, 2013, doctors put me on "watchful waiting" with the hopes of remaining in that pattern for years to come.  Sadly, that did not happen for me.  Seven months later, we started a six month chemotherapy regimen which gave me satisfactory results.


Following treatment, "watch and wait" began again for me in March, 2014.  The drugs diminished the tumors and I felt great.  It seems that the effects of the disease had come upon me so gradually that I had no idea that I was sick.  Over the past nineteen months, we have been keeping an eye of the by-products of my malignant plasma.  Through blood work, we can get an idea of the progress of the disease by measuring the protein produced by the tumors, the thickness of my blood, and my level of anemia.  Month after month, lab after lab, we have watched the numbers gradually worsen.  But this time, the change hasn't been so gradual, and I have really noticed a change in my energy level.  I feel tired from the inside out, and I feel like I am basically no fun at all.  I don't like that.  I have developed some new symptoms this time around which add to my discomfort.  So, tomorrow begins the process of making me better.


I trust that you have never endured a bone marrow biopsy, but I get my second one tomorrow morning.  Since my cancer (there, I said it) lives inside the plasma cells of my bone marrow, the only way we can really get a peek at what's going on in there is to drill a gigantic needle (imagine a horror movie) into my hip bone and aspirate a sample of bone marrow.  Hey, I've seen my bone marrow.  Bet you can't say the same!  I was a rookie back in 2013 when I had my first BMB.  I had the test done in the doctor's office with nothing but a pain pill.  I survived, but many nightmares followed.  This time, I'm older and wiser - I asked for anesthesia!  Oh yeah!  Tomorrow I will sleep right through the horror of the BMB.  The results of this test will tell us how much of my plasma is malignant.  With that knowledge, we will move forward to make a treatment plan.


A trip to M.D. Anderson Cancer Center is set up for January.  My Houston doctor assures me that treatment has improved by a "quantum leap" since my first regimen.  Very soon, I am going to have some "crazy blood warriors" doing battle inside me.  Of all cancer thrivers, I consider myself among the most blessed.  But I sure would appreciate your prayers:  for me and the medical team tomorrow during my bone marrow biopsy; for wisdom for my doctors as they work out a treatment plan; and that our healing God will use the treatment for my good.  Please remember my right hand man, too.  My Stevie never leaves my side.  I am most blessed.

"I can do everything through Christ

who gives me strength."

Phillippians 4:13

"My flesh and my heart may fail but

God is the strength of my heart

and my portion forever."

Psalm 73: 26



KEEP ON KEEPING ON

     It was two years ago tomorrow when my doctor said that word.  The numbers printed on the lab results meant absolutely nothing to me.  There had to be another explanation than the "C" word.  My oncologist said the dreaded word and sent me immediately to the scheduling desk.  My day planner was filled for the next three weeks with appointments and events that thoroughly terrified me.  If you know anything about me, you are aware that am a card-carrying needle-phobic.  I don't mean just the kind that gets nervous at injection time.  I am talking complete loss of consciousness.  My Mom could tell you about the time when teenaged Kathy reported to the hospital lab for pre-op testing prior to a tonsillectomy.  Apparently I went into the lab by foot and came out of the lab by wheelchair.  I don't remember much in between, but I do remember asking Mom, "why am I in a wheel chair?"  As an adult, I always warned my nurses and lab techs that I needed to lay down to have blood drawn.  I told them that I was a frequent fainter, just wake me up when it is over.  My husband takes great delight in sharing the story of taking me to the doctor with a really bad sinus infection and picking me up off the exam room floor because of a penicillin shot.  I tell you that so that you can understand the horror that February, 2013 held for me.  CT scan (with dye,) Bone Marrow Biopsy (you can't even call that needle a needle - - - it is more like a drill!), more blood work, and MRI (with dye of course.) 
     Two years later, I have had countless blood tests, 18 chemo injections in the tummy, and nine chemo infusions.  God has blessed me with answered prayer regarding my needle-phobia.  Shortly after diagnosis we had a talk, God and me.  I told him of my fears and asked him to take away my fear of needles. This burden was immediately lifted from me.  Now, I do have to admit, I did not ask God to help me enjoy needles...... no, not at all.  I still hate them.  But every time one comes near me, I just say, "this is going to help save my life" and God gets me through it.
     So, two years after diagnosis, I feel that I should be wiser, I feel that I should understand why I am living with a cancer that only effects 6 in a million people.  I feel that by now I should have put all of this into perspective.  Nope!  Not at all.  Cancer is confusing, cruel, and all-consuming.  Physically, I have good days and "cancer days."  On "cancer days" I feel exhausted from the deepest part of myself.  It is not a normal tiredness.  It is as if every part of my body is rebelling.  Other physical symptoms are beginning to show themselves, but I am learning to deal with that.  For me, the most difficult part of this journey has been and continues to be the emotional reaction to the diagnosis, the treatment, the knowledge that my cancer is "not yet curable," and the uncertainty of when my next treatment regimen will begin.  I am still processing the fact that I have a chronic illness that is unlikely to be cured in my lifetime.  But, at the same time, I feel unbelievably blessed.
     I am not alone.  My family, friends, medical peeps - I am so grateful for each one.  But, I have to tell you, the past 24 months have brought about a closer relationship with my best friend, my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  I always knew He was there, I just didn't always feel the need to call on Him.  The "C" word has brought me to a new dependence on him, and for that, I am forever grateful.
     Tomorrow begins year three of my cancer journey.  Unless God chooses to heal me miraculously, He will walk beside me through the fatigue, the aches and pains, the confusion, and even the encounters with needles.  He provides the great minds who create life-saving drugs, He provides the medical professionals who prescribe and administer them - for now, this is my healing.  Oh, my body will be completely healed of cancer one day.  If not in this lifetime, in the next.  Until then....

"Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for.

Keep on seeking, and you will find.

Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you."

Matthew 7: 7 (New Living Translation) 

Do not be afraid or terrified,

for the Lord your God goes with you;

he will never leave you nor forsake you."

Dueteronomy 31: 6