We got some pretty bad news today from my Oncologist's nurse. It turns out that my cancer is aggressive and has indeed metastasized. The mutation was not present, so it looks like I am going to have to have aggressive chemo and radiation unless CTCA can come up with a different treatment plant (I am hoping beyond all hope that they can).
The evaluation begins on Monday at 12:45. I will get Pet Scans, CT with Angiogram, a Fluorescent Bronchoscopy, lab work, and an ultrasound. Then, I will work with not only my medical team, but a holistic member, a dietician, a chiropractor, an accupuncture specialist, and have my own private nurse. Almost like a spa...just not quite.
I am learning that the most important part of having lung cancer is having a strong support system in place. My support system consists of my husband, my children, my mother and step-father, my family, and my plethora of friends. These people are all around me...praying for me, offering advice, and just listening to me when I have my really horrible days.
The next step in surviving this so called terminal cancer is my cancer people. My cancer people consists of everyone at CTCA, my Home Oncologist, her nurse, my surgeon, and my pulmonologist. I am also a member of an online support group that was offered to me through CTCA and I find that it is important to include the support of other people with cancer because they know what I am going through both physically and mentally.
The third step is money. Cancer is expensive, and even if you have good insurance (which we do), the co-pays plus KB's missed work can add up quickly. This is why we have started a Go Fund me account so that I do not have to stress out about the financial burden this is causing on my family.
Support is the most vital part of survival. I cannot continue to be afraid to ask for help from people who love me the most.
Courage....what can I say about courage? Sometimes my courage comes in big chunks enough to sustain me for weeks. Other times, it is granules that are just enough to keep me going for moments at a time.
It is the courage to ask questions of my doctors, the courage to advocate for myself if I feel like I am not getting the care and response I need. It is the courage to admit that I need help. It is the courage to go for a second opinion. It is courage to discuss end-of-life wishes and issues. It is courage to tell those closest to me about what I am facing, my worries, my dreams, and my nightmares. It takes a huge amount of courage to admit that I don't feel positive all of the time. I have to admit the fear, speak of the terror, and stop being strong all of the time. Then and only then, can I begin to move forward once again.
Then I must melt and stir a cup of knowledge so that it spreads evenly through the mixture. When I was diagnosed with Lung Cancer, I was thrown into an entirely new landscape, and knowledge has given me back some of the feelings of control that cancer tears away. Knowledge helps me to know what to expect, how to plan for what could go wrong, what the Plan B will be if/when treatment stops working. With this knowledge, I can learn about clinical trials that may prove promising (even potentially lifesaving) for my particular case. I can find this knowledge from online cancer communities of others with my disease, from staying abreast of the latest research, from pressing my doctors for more information, and from talking to other professionals in the field.
And then there is good ol' denial. Sometimes the intensity of a Stage IV Cancer diagnosis can be simply overwhelming. I have found that I cannot spend all of my time focused on my dire prognosis. Sometimes, I just need to forget about it, try to forget cancer exists, forget this thing living inside of me. So I go ahead and splash in some denial and if I am having one of those days, I pour in the whole damn bottle.
Finally, I bring you to hope. Never underestimate the power of hope. In the darkest of times, It can provide a single ray of light that keeps me moving forward. It could be the hope that I make it into a clinical trial, or that my treatment will buy me more time, or that I will make it to see my 36th birthday, or that I just might be the amazing woman that blows the damn statistics out of the water.
There is always a reason to remain hopeful. Just because my cancer is aggressive and spreading does not mean it is the end by any means. But it is a nasty reminder that it is living inside me, threatening to take me away from everything I love.
I have never been fearless, but now I do have less fear. I have less fear about little things,less fear about speaking my mind, less fear about taking chances, and less fear about what other people may think of me. I have one giant fear that trumps everything else and that puts it all into perspective.
My drive to get everything out of this life is much greater than all the little fears. We only get this one life (I think), so it only makes sense to grab on tight and get all the living you can get out of it.
Cancer may have started this fight...but I will finish it!
"You don't always have to hold yourself together..." - II Corinthians 12:9
https://www.gofundme.com/hope4shanna
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