lorlatinib – Page 3 – polepole ~ breathe

Big Night, Big Week

Big Night is an amphibian phenomenon. It’s fascinating, and I’m very glad I learned about it, and about how humans feel a responsibility to help. On the first rainy night in April salamanders and some frogs migrate from their winter home to their breeding pools. Often this means crossing a road, so that’s where people come in. They help move the salamanders and frogs across the road. Yes, on a rainy April night, way past dark, people go out to help on Big Night.

So I got to thinking about it. I understand that they need to stay wet, so rain is needed. I understand that they avoid sun for the long journey, so travel at night. But why do they cross the road? Why not find a vernal pool on their side of the road? I mean really. I saw the poor little guys crawling over that winter “salt sand” to even reach the road. Why? Simple. They are returning to their ancestral breeding pool, not just any vernal pool. And so that adds to why it is so wonderful that people help them. It is our responsibility since we put the road in their way. Here’s one naturalist’s explanation (and an interesting blog to follow). Mary Holland’s “Big Night” explanation

I first went out on Big Night last year. We (my sister, niece, and a friend, new to big night!) went out on a night that wasn’t so big this year. I couldn’t go out a couple nights later on what turned out to be Big Night because I’d had a Big Week. Either my targeted therapy drug or cancer cause me to have less energy and stamina. But that’s okay. It’s because of crizotinib and now lorlatinib (and so much that’s not medical) that I can think about going next year. And, the other really wonderful thing about me learning about Big Night is that I shared it with others who love it now too. On Big Night my phone chimed on the bedside and sure enough, there was a pic of my granddaughter holding a salamander. The whole family was out in the rain with friends, way past bedtime, to save lives. What a great learning adventure for the children (and their parents)!

Big Night came in a big week for me. The night before the “night I went out searching” was certainly a big night for me. I went to see the Wizard of Oz! Yup. Somewhere Over the Rainbow for me. And not just me! I got to enjoy the show with four of my grandchildren (the campers) and my son, daughter-in-law, and daughter. We all rode together and went to dinner before. Everything, even (or maybe especially) the car ride was so great. What a treat the evening was! There’s so much I could say about how much that evening meant to me in any life. Yet, I can’t even think how to describe exactly what it means to me in this second life I’m in. Just so precious and special.

To top off my big week, my sister, a friend, and I went to Bar Harbor yesterday and walked the trail in the village that goes along the ocean , stopping of course for lunch, but too filled for Pugnuts ice cream on the way home. I tried out my new sneakers from Ortho Feet. Pretty good! Roomy, well cushioned, comfortable. Not too stylish, but luckily that’s not what I was looking for. I was looking for something that would help with the neuropathy discomfort when walking.

Dan and our son have been working on traps in the field by the house, readying them for lobstering “season”. How nice it is to be here to prepare lunch for them. I’m grateful that I don’t have to struggle to try to keep working like I was last year at this time. I’ve loved my winter at home as much as I loved my fall at our camp. Today I made a sauce with tomatoes I froze (whole by the way) from our summer garden. Soon we’ll be planting again.

Enjoying the everyday every day. Me. Now.

Be your own Advocate

Today I went to my PCP. I’ve had a hard lump on the bottom of my foot that appeared as part of dealing with neuropathy. Dr. PCP seems to think it is unrelated to my neuropathy. She/he also thinks the nodules on and inflammation of my finger tendons is also unrelated. Funny coincidence, both are caused by trauma, both involve inflammation, and both happened shortly after the neuropathy began in those appendages. I know better, but at least today Dr. PCP confirmed for me that it isn’t something more serious. It wasn’t worth trying to convince Dr. PCP or to argue the point. I will share my observations with my clinical trial team.

What was more traumatic was that I was in the room where I first was told I had a mass in my left lung hilum. Sitting there waiting today was unpleasant, thinking back to January 7, 2016. I’m not sure Dr. PCP knew what the hilum was that day. If she/he did know then, she/he couldn’t explain it, having to look it up. The hilum is the point of entry and exit to the lung. KenHub explanation of hilum “Functionally, this means that the hilum aids the lung roots by anchoring the lungs to the heart, trachea, and surrounding structures.” Left hilum, near the heart in addition to having an important job.

But, that was then and I’m here now. And, I made the choice to stay with the PCP who missed my illness totally, despite my visits, calls, and pleas for help that fall. I am so grateful to the walk-in clinic FNP who had the good sense to do the x-ray that saved my life. I stayed with Dr. PCP because of convenience. I would not have stayed for my treatment, choosing to go to Dana-Farber saved my life. I have hoped that this experience would help inform Dr. PCP about lung cancer symptoms, that she/he might listen more carefully to patients, that she/he would believe the patient when they are clear that what’s going on isn’t a long lasting cold.

But, today for the first time I felt angry. Not because of the lack of, or misdiagnosis. That’s every Stage IV diagnosed lung cancer patient’s story. I forgave him/her that day he/she had to give me the news. Today really started last week when I called to try to see Dr. PCP. I explained why I needed to be seen, and was told that Dr. PCP was booked into July. Hmm, I thought. Then I laughed. It does seem like a funny situation for someone who is already past their statistical expiration. (I inherited my mom’s sense of humor.) The receptionist must have been confused by my response, but then she did tell me that if I called at 7:30 AM any day I might get in to see my doctor or another. So, I weighed my options and decided to call this morning.

So after waiting in the room with the unpleasant memory playing over and over for 15 minutes, Dr. PCP came in. Once we completed the purpose for the visit, Dr. PCP asked how I was doing. Since I hadn’t been in for quite a while I explained (as succinctly as I could) about the leptomeningeal cancer progression, entering the clinical trial, and the success (80% reduction) of the new drug Lorlatinib. Then came the part that I felt angry about (and is already forgiven and soon to be forgotten). My PCP, the one who seemed interested, said, “Well, I think they send reports to us so why don’t we just schedule an appointment in six months to check in.” He/she didn’t even know if Dana-Farber sent reports, hadn’t even peeked at my chart to see what was up before coming in to the room, had no process in which he/she checked on his/her patients with metastatic cancer, and he/she thought it would be nice to check in in six months. And me? Silly me. I stopped at checkout and scheduled that appointment.

Recently I saw FB posts singing the praises of Dr. PCP. Before cancer I would have said to anyone asking about this doctor that you’d have to do your own follow-up, that Dr. PCP doesn’t always call promptly with lab results, mammography reports, etc. Now I would add that if he/she doesn’t care about my case enough to know if Dana-Farber has sent reports (of which there have been dozens in 2 years), then it seems unlikely that he/she is very attuned to the needs of his/her patients.

As we all know, but don’t always remember – you know your own body. Pay attention to what it’s telling you, and advocate for yourself. Ask questions, ask for explanations of test results and treatment options, ask for expert opinion, and if you don’t feel confident about any of it, seek another expert opinion. I feel blessed that we made the right choice for us by going to Dana-Farber . They fill us with confidence in their work and with hope. Even when the news is not so good, there’s no doom and gloom, and always hope.

Spring seems slow in coming here on the mountainside. The goldfinches are now bright in color, and tom turkeys are in full strut, dancing for the hens. Dan and our son are now over in the field daily working on getting the lobster traps ready for another season. I am truly finding joy in the everyday every day with Dan, the family, our three little dachshunds, and Dottie and Matilda, our spoiled Nigerian Dwarf goats. And, tomorrow night my children and grandchildren are taking me to see the Wizard of Oz. Blessed.

Season of Hope

If I had a favorite season, it would be spring. There are things I truly love about each season. Spring just has so much to love. Even with the ground and everything else covered with FEET of snow, I felt spring yesterday. The vernal equinox was 12:15 PM. I was at a meeting of a Maine Lung Cancer Coalition advisory group when spring began, but two hours later as we stepped outside into the sunshine, even surrounded by parking lot snowbanks, I felt spring and breathed a big sigh of relief. Phew, I made it, made it to spring. I bet lots of animals have that thought, perhaps not at the moment , but later, when the snows melt and the trees leave.

Sigh of relief? Made it? You see, many years ago my grandmother pointed out that more people die in winter and she said if she made it to spring, she’d go a while longer. She nearly made it to 100. This was my third big sigh of spring relief. The first in 2016 I was just 18 days into my first targeted therapy treatment and knew from how I felt that it was working. Huge sigh of relief. I would conquer the beast inside my body certainly long enough to enjoy another spring. Today I’m feeling pretty darn good, in great shape for the shape I’m in. The beast is once again contained by the targeted therapy drug Lorlatinb.

I love all the things in nature in spring like most people do who are lucky enough to notice, from the smell of the mud to hearing new songs each morning and evening. There’s so much to see and look forward to. Everything seems new or renewed, just born or re-born. My babies are spring babies. For all beings, I think it must be the season of hope, spiritually and physically.

Today memories of “springs past”, sprang into my head. Ha! True though. Memories like the leaves in front of me as I crossed the Waldo-Hancock bridge for years daily, first simply appearing and then over weeks changing their shades of green . There’s really nothing else like spring green. Dan’s grandmother’s joy in attending Easter sunrise service and breakfast with her great-grandchildren, so sweet. Then there’s the Easter 55 years ago (give or take a year or two) when we camped out in the woods behind our house. Easter Bunny didn’t know what to think. I think it really happened, my younger brother wouldn’t remember because I was the baby then. I do remember that. Or the April 42 springs ago, that my “ready to be born” daughter nearly jumped out of my body when the engine of the Patty P II, her grampa’s boat, was started for the first time ever. A few days after that we went on a rough road to go “alewiving” (alewife the fish) to see if we might jiggle her out. Spring memories.

In recent years a great memory maker is our now annual family weekend at Spencer Pond Camps , off the grid wilderness lakeside cabins in the Moosehead region of Maine. Dan, me, our children and their spouses, and our five grandchildren fishing, hiking, bike riding, kayaking, moose spotting, toasting marshmallows and playing games in the evening, and even relaxing in the porch swing. So many memories. Moving to our Salt Pond camp, now even more exciting with Dottie and Matilda, the Nigerian Dwarf goats, riding along. The year we lived at camp I saw the return of ducks and other migrating birds. Closing my eyes, I see spring sunrises from the Salt Pond to Grand Canyon. Spectacular, all. Planting the garden, and patiently (or maybe not) waiting for something, anything to come up. Dan working on his lobster boat and traps, readying them for another year. Every spring for about 46 years. Picnics at the boatyard during April vacation. Memories. And new spring traditions. Last year was my first spring Big Night, the first rainy evening in April when the salamanders cross the roads and people go out and help assure their safe crossing. Quite the phenomenon! A fun time and I hope we helped the little guys out. Started a phenology journal so I can follow the changes from year to year. So many memories.

Watching the goldfinches acquire their gold today (you can almost see it happening), I think of watching Mr. and Mrs. Merganser the spring we lived at camp. How beautiful and how different he looked from Mama Merganser and her babies in summer. Spring memories. Looking forward to seeing the snowshoe hares in the field soon. And baseball and softball. Lots of memories to make. Looks like a busy spring for this Gramma.

Time to re-hibernate and rest up – there’s more snow on the way. Reminds me of the April snowstorm in 1975 when I was stranded on a hill in Orland. Out of the blinding snow appeared the dad of my best childhood friend. Hadn’t seen him for a decade, and there he was to rescue me.

Here in our winter home on the mountainside, finding joy in the everyday every day with Dan, the family, our three little dachshunds, and Dottie and Matilda, our Nigerian dwarf goats. Dreaming of springs to come.

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March 1, 2018 Health Update

The good news is IT’S ALL GREAT NEWS! No, I’m not cured. No, I’m not NED (no evidence of disease). Don’t waste your time worrying about those things. According to “my” oncologist at Dana-Farber, my brain MRI, CT scans of my chest and abdomen, EKG, and blood-work all look GREAT. I won’t see the reports myself until next week for details, but GREAT will do.

Our morning started with a blood draw and IV at 6:30 AM at Dana- Farber. (Sent a pic of IV to our granddaughter in nursing school who just successfully inserted her first IV) Then, after a brisk walk across the bridge, I had the brain MRI and the CT scans at Brigham and Women’s. After those, it was a race back to Dana to the 10th floor for an EKG, vitals check, and appointment with the doctor and the clinical trial nurse. We finished all this at 9:55 AM. Record time I’d say, thanks to a new patient coordinator who booked my appointments overlapping one another. Oops! Everyone made it work just fine.

After the appointments we waited 45 minutes for my wonder drug Lorlatinib. It is she who is in there day after day tracking down that nasty ROS1. Lorlatinib is relentless in her work. I am grateful to those who developed Lorlatinib. With each drug developed we get closer to the time when lung cancer is managed as a chronic disease, until there is a cure. I’m grateful to all the brave patients in the first trials of this and other drugs being developed for ROS1.

I continue to work on my part of the deal with Lorlatinib, keeping myself healthy. This work includes: acupuncture for neuropathy, paleo diet for the nonstop weight gain (now stopped), immune system support (advised by acupuncturist, approved by oncologist – some supplements were nixed by oncologist due to unknowns of drug interaction), and energy healing meditation/practices. Soon will be increased time outside. It’s a full time job, staying healthy, but it’s paying off. I’m not just alive, just surviving, I’m thriving, and feel well – all things considered.

So, after a whirlwind trip to the city (traveled there yesterday), we arrived home at 4:30 PM. Dan does a lot of driving and waiting. It can’t be easy. We’re a team, he says. He’s a wonderful man. And now here we are, back to finding joy in the everyday every day with the family, three little dachshunds, and Dottie and Matilda, Nigerian Dwarf goats.

Sharing the Journey

I can’t imagine traveling this cancer road alone. No one should ever, ever have to. I’m so very grateful that I’ll never have to. In fact, my family has grown through this journey. This struck me again today when the caregiver wife of a ROS1der posted a heartfelt and loving message to us all. While I’ve never met any of the ROS1ders, I feel incredibly close to them in the 22 months since I found the facebook group established for cancer patients who are ROS1+. This family has nearly tripled since I found it, and is worldwide.

The ROS1der FaceBook group is a closed group (public site: ros1cancer.com), and I cannot share the details of that lovely post or anyone’s specific information, but I can share what makes them my “family”. Most, but not all, have lung cancer. Most, not all, have metastasized cancer. Most, not all, have been on the drug Xalkori crizotinib, my treatment hero, the reason I survived long enough to even call this a journey. Many, maybe most, are younger than me, many with children at home. Many have had treatments that I’ve not had. Many are in clinical trials, some on the same drug as me (lorlatinb – hero drug #2), some on other targeted therapy drugs that are giving hope to ROS1ders. All are either ROS1+ or the caregiver of someone who has ROS1+ cancer as required to be a group member. Because of all we do have in common, there is always someone who understands, or can relate to, what another is experiencing. Beyond that even, there’s just such a feeling of empathy and sincere caring about one another’s well being in the group. In this group we share information, learn how different oncologists approach different topics, hear about procedures and tests as described by the patient, get the latest news on clinical trials and research, share tips about dealing with side effects and symptoms, options for and how to access healthcare/treatment, and so much more.

I’ve tried to think what it is that makes this family so very special compared to other organizations I’ve been part of and even considered family. I believe it is the never-ending optimism, the incredibly high level of HOPE, STRENGTH, COURAGE, and FAITH. The people in this group have so many (not every!) reasons to feel and speak only doom and gloom, but not in this family. Our fears, worries, and sadness can be freely expressed and we know they will be responded to with caring and genuine concern. It is a safe place. This is a difficult road to travel. Love, compassion and support, research and answers, virtual shoulders to cry on and hands to hold are all offered. Always, always with an eye on a future where, if not a cure, then treatment for managing cancer as a chronic disease, always HOPE.

My ROS1der family, a FaceBook group. Who knew I’d find such camaraderie in such a place. Huh. Another of the countless blessings that have come my way on this journey. May every human needing such a place, find theirs.

Finding joy in the everyday, every day.

Thursday, December 28, 2017 Update

Great news, again! Right up there with some of the best news I’ve had since beginning this journey. Writing this in our hotel room, a block from the most wonderful cancer institute in the world, Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. Wonderful: inspiring delight, pleasure, or admiration; extremely good; marvelous. Yes, wonderful! Regardless of the news I might receive from them, they certainly have inspired admiration from me, data shows their work is extremely good, and the people we’ve met there are delightful and quite marvelous in their treatment of patients and caregivers.

Back to my news! Stable from the neck down, AND (drum roll please) an 84% reduction of the nasty beast in my brain meninges since beginning my second wonder drug Lorlatinib in July.

Today was another long day for us. We stayed in Portland last night to make sure we would arrive at Dana-Farber for a 10:30 AM start. At 10:30 PM the fire alarm went off in the hall of the motel last night. Some kid had burned his popcorn in a microwave. We didn’t have to go outside luckily. Today began with “free” breakfast at 6:00 AM, followed by a very quick 2.5 hour drive to Boston. No morning traffic – unlike any other day we’ve gone. Vacation I guess. We even parked on P4 instead of P6 of the underground parking garage!

My appointments were all the “usual”: IV in, blood draw, CT scans of chest and abdomen on L1 in the Dana Building, brain MRI and IV out on Dana 3 , grab some lunch (Yawkey 3), check vitals, EKG, Dr. appointment (Yawkey 10), and wait for medication (Yawkey 2). Done at 4:00 PM. Nothing to it!

Here’s more great news – I am scheduled to return to Dana-Farber on March 1, 2018. Nine weeks!! Yes, nine. That is the longest between appointments in the 23 months I’ve been a patient at Dana-Farber. Wow! Now, will I be nervous about that? I don’t think so. I know my body, and the difference between symptoms and side effects pretty well now. And, my clinical trial nurse and oncologist are just a phone call or 5 hour drive away!

Hey, I forgot something very important in my post about Procedures and Tests ! When they put the contrast dye in your IV during scans, you get the warm feeling and would think that you wet yourself if not forewarned. Thought about that one today when…

For me, 2017 has been the year I began to learn to LIVE with metastatic lung cancer, helping to create new statistics, and bring hope to those diagnosed with this disease that still currently kills 433 Americans every day. We can, are, and will continue to do so much better. There is great hope for the newly diagnosed.

Happy New Year to all our family and friends, new and not so new! Your positive thoughts, love, and prayers continue to help give me the strength needed for this journey. Please test your home for radon this year if you’ve not yet done so.

Looking forward to us going home to the dachshunds and goats, comfy and cozy for the winter, feeling grateful, and finding joy in the everyday every day!

Privileged

Privilege, privileged – the word has come to my mind a lot lately as I think about my treatment and healthcare compared to others’. The “others” I speak of in this case all have access to healthcare, so I guess they too are ”privileged“: a special benefit that is available only to a particular person or group. (macmillandictionary.com) Many people in our world do not belong to the Access to Healthcare Club at all.

My mind begins to confuse the definitions and ways the word privilege is used as I consider my lung cancer treatment. The definition above doesn’t tell anything about the person or group, but in this case privilege feels good and not so good.

I definitely feel it is a privilege (something nice that you feel lucky to have) to have qualified for a clinical trial at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. It feels really nice and lucky to be there. We work(ed) hard to get there (years of employment earning health insurance, paying fully for that health insurance now that I can no longer work, driving to Dana-Farber (250 miles one way), and on and on… But it is a privilege that even someone WITH health insurance living in some regions of THIS country cannot access. Clinical trials for my targeted therapy drug Lorlatinib are only available in a few places in the country. This drug targets only two very specific gene mutations/drivers(more on how cancer cell mutations happen), ALK(in 3-7% of NonSmall Cell Lung cancer) and ROS1(1-2%). We are lucky drugs are being developed for such a small number.

Today Lorlatinib may be available for Compassionate Use (Expanded Access), but it was very difficult to acquire in this manner until recently (now that it is near FDA approval.) I know this because not long ago one of the “others” with ROS1 developed resistance to crizotinib, the only FDA approved targeted therapy drug for ROS1. (Have I ever said that because of this mutation, standard treatments don’t work?) So, after crizotinib stops working, a ROS1 lung cancer patient has little hope unless she can get into a clinical trial. This patient lives in a region where there was not access to a trial. Drive to one, fly to one you say! Not if the person is not well enough to do so or hasn’t the financial resources to do so. Maybe she doesn’t quite meet the criteria. How about compassionate use you ask? Not available in this case. What?!!? Time’s running out. In this instance, the last I knew lung cancer patient advocates began reaching out to the drug company and the ROS1 experts in an effort to acquire treatment for this patient. I was not able to learn if help came in time.

Privilege: a special benefit that is available only to a particular person or group

I belong to a FaceBook group for ROS1 patients from all over the world. Nearly all are lung cancer patients. We are able to share information and learn from one another. I’ve found it immensely helpful in my search for understanding of this disease. This group is available only to ROS1+patients and their caregivers. A privilege that is available to anyone who would need/want it, if they have internet access, and can read and understand the information.

Even those with the education, reasonable financial resources, and health care access cannot assume the privilege of receiving my level of treatment. Lorlatinib isn’t available in all parts of the world. And, the newest of these drugs ( Tyrosine kinase inhibitors)that treat ROS1, entrecinib, isn’t available even through clinical trial right next door in Canada, according to an “other”. (That will still make only 3 drugs, 1FDA approved, to treat ROS1, and those pesky cancer cells really know how to build resistance to the drugs.)

I know what it was like before my first targeted therapy drug. I was dying. I did not build resistance to it (but had brain progression). I am privileged to be treated in a facility where I have scans regularly, where I know when I have a symptom (such as with the brain progression) it will be looked into quickly, where treatments are known and available, where a plan is ready if cancer overpowers the drug. I know of an “other” , living in another country, who died while waiting for treatment to arrive. I am so sorry this happened.

Without the many privileges I enjoy I wouldn’t be here, drinking tea by the Christmas tree, wood fire warming the room, still trying to sort the good and bad of the definitions of a word as it applies to my experience with healthcare. I know the circumstances of my life (from childhood and education to the love and support of Dan and our family) have equipped me to access the best level of treatment. But does that mean I should be privileged, should belong to the club when “others” with the same needs are allowed to die because they can’t access the correct treatment? A treatment that IS available, but not accessible for that person. I can’t change the world, but gosh, at least in our country, it seems like access to known lifesaving healthcare should not be a privilege.

And, by the way, have you heard me say lately that LUNG cancer research is way underfunded? It is the deadliest (433 Americans per day) and least funded when compared to the other common cancers. I’m making my voice heard to my representatives, and urge others to do the same. Oh yes, and radon is the second leading cause of lung cancer – just thought I’d get that in there.

I’m privileged to be able to serve on the Family and Patient Advisory Council of the Maine Lung Cancer Coalition MLCC. More on this work later.

Finding joy in the everyday im my cozy home, making memories, and loving life with Dan, family, 3 little dachshunds, and 2 Nigerian dwarf goats – that’s me, living a life of …

Update, November 16, 2017

Now that I can no longer post to carepages, I will do my updates here. We’ll miss carepages, first introduced to us when our grandson was born at Brighams and whisked (with mom) away to Children’s where he had his first of a few heart surgeries. He’s a very healthy, athletic eleven year old! But then, and now, we needed a way to update and communicate easily with friends and family. So, thanks carepage!

GREAT NEWS! Lorlatinib is working for me. 75% reduction of the cancer in my meninges! I am having no symptoms from the cancer in my brain. I am having some minimal side effects from the lorlatinib doing its job in my brain. Lorlatinib is also controlling the cancer in other places of my body as well as my hero Xalkori Crizotinib did. High cholesterol is a side effect of the drug, so my Crestor has once again been increased, but I’ve been assured that this can be managed and wouldn’t be a reason to stop the lorlatinib. Whew! So, at the lower dose from when I began, it is still effective for me!

Dan and I drove to Boston Wednesday for the Thursday appointment. Our first test was at 6:30 AM. We were finished for the day at 2:45 PM and then Dan had to drive home in the pouring rain. Traffic was heavy heading out of the city, and then visibility was terrible on the highway. It got dark while still on the interstate. We stopped for a quick dinner and break in S. Portland, Between Augusta and Belfast it was mixed precipitation. But finally at 9:20 PM we pulled into the driveway, safe and sound. Dan’s my hero, always. The greeting by the three little dachshunds was as wonderful and crazy as always.

We are ever so grateful to/for everyone at Dana-Farber, everyone in lung cancer research, and our family for jumping in so we can travel.

Too busy making pickles to worry about dying

For someone with a terminal disease who statistically shouldn’t be here, I don’t think I spend much time thinking about dying. It doesn’t upset me to think about dying, but I’m really much more focused on living. I’m way too busy to spend much time on the negative “what ifs” of this journey.

You see, I’ve just been given this wonderful opportunity to spend almost all of my days doing whatever it is that I choose to do. While I may not be well enough to do everything I may enjoy or want to do or sometimes think I need to do, there is so much I CAN do. Thanks to the doctors at Dana Farber and the clinical trial targeted therapy drug Lorlatinib, I feel quite well.

So instead of taking me down rapidly as this cancer named ROS1+ intended to do, it has provided opportunities that I may not have had or would not have taken advantage of. These opportunities are both tangible and intangible, and infinite I imagine. And so now a new path on the journey has just begun.

It began on that first day of school when it seemed like everyone else was going somewhere and I was not. No real plan, no real reason to do anything in particular. Every day could be a new adventure. I could read all day. That’s very satisfying. I could sleep all day. No, not unless I’m very tired. Or, I could bake! Oh dear, we’ve just completely stopped eating sugar, and are reducing how much wheat we eat. No, no baking for now. Well, how about making pickles? Haven’t done that for years and we’ve still plenty of veggies. Pickles it is.

Pickle making is science and art combined, a beautiful experiment each and every time, right up to the moment your guinea pigs (children, grandchildren, and other willing relatives) take the first taste. Since I started making pickles a few weeks ago I’ve made sour cucumber, garlic dill cucumber, bread and butter cucumber, ripe cucumber, garlic rosemary tomato, garlic dill summer squash, and bread and butter summer squash. Yup, it’s true. I’ve been making pickles! I’ve used tried and true recipes passed down from my grandmother or Dan’s mom, and ones I’ve found online. Some have been quite popular, others not so much, but all have found a home.

Now pickle making isn’t the only opportunity I’ve taken advantage of. I’m part of a trio (and that number may grow any day now) that goes on NOW WE CAN adventures. Now we can, and so we are! We’ve traveled near and far (nah, not really far), so far going to the Orono Bog Boardwalk, Common Ground Fair, and Nervous Nellie’s. Just the names make you know we had fun! Here’s some proof! OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA 22046080_10211986642014460_7954483629869582552_n

And then there’s the hundreds of soccer and baseball games I’ve been to this fall. Last year cancer kept me from going to many of the kids’ games, but now that cancer keeps me from working, and I’ve started Lorlatinib, I have energy enough to go. So, go we do!

And on and on it goes! None of us know what may happen in life, and I certainly never know what news the next scan or MRI may bring on this cancer journey, but right now I’m just too busy finding joy in the everyday things of life to worry about dying!

Symptoms, side effects, or just part of living?

Sorting out what is caused by what, and when to be concerned or not, is tougher than you might think. For example, everyone has headaches, but headaches caused by cancer progression to the brain, at least in my case, feel different and aren’t helped by ibuprofen , Tylenol , migraine med, or acupuncture. I knew they weren’t migraines because I used to be tormented by migraines. That was before acupuncture! Luckily for me, the cancer headaches weren’t bad, just chronic and different – a symptom of cancer, and as the new drug attacks the cancer, they’ve resolved.

Recently I’ve been plagued by serious hand neuropathy . Now, that could be a symptom as it is caused by the Central Nervous System , and the meninges where my cancer progressed to is part of the CNS. But, it’s not. It’s a side effect of my clinical trial targeted therapy drug Lorlatinib. And, to make sure of this, I was off the drug for a week. Yup, relief came at day two. So now I go back on at a reduced dosage.

Other examples include my new high cholesterol (side effect of Lorlatinb), and the body aches which I think are a side effect of the statin that I’m taking for the high cholesterol ! Or, perhaps it’s just regular sore muscles from aging or going back to the Y to work out. Not sure, but not really much of a bother.

But it is really important to pay attention to the body and the subtle differences as they provide clues as to whether something is a symptom, side effect, or “normal”. Here’s another example – When I was on crizotinib I could count on bouts of diarrhea every four or five days. Solution? Imodium. With Lorlatinib I had no digestive issues, and then a few weeks into the trial I began to have bowel incontinence. Not diarrhea. No explanation. Scary. Because it could mean that the cancer was in my spine and messing with nerves to bowels. Luckily for me, the first statin drug I was on didn’t work for the cholesterol and I was taken off it. Why luckily? Because it was causing the bowel incontinence we think. It stopped a few days after stopping that med. It isn’t a known side effect of that med and the Dr. was ready to scan my spine in my next scans. But, no more problems with that!

Another side effect of Lorlatinib that I’ve not heard a solution for is weight gain. Now that too is part of life, but in this case it really is a side effect. How do I know? Because I gained 9 pounds while on this medication for nine weeks, and I’ve lost at least five in the week I’ve been off it. Now, I’m hoping that with being careful about diet, along with walking and working out, that I’ll be able to control this weight gain. But I’m not going to beat myself up over it anymore than I did the high cholesterol . Out of my control.

Today I went back on that reduced dose of Lorlatinib. I’m really hopeful that it will not cause neuropathy at this dosage. Two fellow ROS1ders have been through this and the lower dose worked for them. My oncologist really pays attention to the balance of fighting the cancer and quality of life. He was concerned about how the neuropathy was limiting what I could do and affected my sleep. We didn’t discuss options for if the lower dose still causes neuropathy. Fingers crossed (and hope they don’t fall asleep)!

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