This is my blog:

In July of this year (2010), I was diagnosed with metastatic pancreatic cancer.


I had a physical in February and the blood workup showed that I had fat in my liver. Not to worry, a fatty liver is very common. My cholesterol was high, so my doc set up an ultrasound of my liver as a precursor to beginning a regimen of statin drugs.


As the ultrasound was underway, the technician commented (to me) that I should have a follow-up with my PC Doc. Hmmmmm...


"two lesions on the liver and a dark mass on the pancreas...let's get a CT scan."


From CT scan to gastroenterologist to MRI and then two (yes two) exquisitely primitive and painful liver biopsies later; the diagnosis is presented: adenocarcinoma of the pancreas with metasteses to the liver (pancreatic cancer, stage IV).


Let's see; what do I really know about pancreatic cancer at this point? Steve Jobs lived, Patrick Swayze died....... All the stages of shock and grief hit me at once: denial, anger, deal-making...more and more denial..


This is not happening. I am a non-drinker/non-smoker. I have focussed my entire life around being capable of taking care of myself in my "golden years". I have maintained an exercise regime during my entire life...thought I was healthy..


Less than five percent of people diagnosed with this disease are alive after three years. The majority are gone within the first 9 months.


I am officially declaring my place in the survivors ring. Somebody has to be in the 5%.....trust me on this one..






Three months later:


Written on the day of my sixth treatment with folfirinox (look it up), the most agressive chemo-therapy treatment in use today. Approved only for candidates who are in top health and strength, because of it's intense side-effects.


My life (right now) is centered around Cancer. I just came home from my sixth chemo treatment.


Nowadays, my tummy is always in a state of turmoil. My belly shows visual signs of the roiling feeling that I am living with.


My eyes ache and are constantly leaking fluid. I am unable to swallow without serious difficulty. My throat feels like it cannot close, then it feels like it cannot open; all at the same instant. 


One (or more) of the chemo drugs causes neuropathy. The effect is cumulative with each treatment and manifests as piercing pain in my hands and feet if I come into contact with anything cold. If I attempt to swallow anything cooler than room temperature, it is like swallowing broken glass. This continues for days and days......


My mouth is over-manufacturing saliva... There is so much saliva that I can't keep from drooling...


My hair is a memory and my memory is flawed...


Some days I can't form words..... or stand without wavering.


Sleep is my best friend for the peace and rest and gradual restoration it provides....


Sleep is my worst enemy. It steals the time from me. Some days I sleep 22 hours.....most days I have trouble staying awake.


The fatigue is manageable only by acquiescing to it's demands...






Did I mention the tremors?


During the infusion, my entire body begins to shake uncontrollably. This continues for at least twenty-four hours and tapers off to (just?) my arms and hands. Continues for ten to fourteen days... Just in time for my next infusion....






After six more treatments, I will be done with all of this and my hair will come home. Its short now. I look cancer ravaged; 'cause I am...

Miss my hair  ... Oh well.

Part of my blog is to tell point by point what is going on inside me and outside me.

Monday (November 8, 2010), David, my loving husband and in-house nurse drove me to MGH (Massachusetts General Hospital) at 8AM to start my blood work-up and day-long Chemo. He comes armed with all the games and books and love he can put into his bag and we are off.


We arrive at the hospital around 9 and make our way to the 8th floor of the Yawkie Cancer Center.


First stop: to see my infusion nurse and take vitals. "Hook me up John", and a needle is inserted into my port (this is a surgically implanted IV point that  can be easily accessed for infusions, blood draws etc..).


John draws my blood and then downstairs to see Doctor Clark to evaluate my blood workup and make sure I am healthy enough to endure another treatment.



"Hello my friend and reader-of-the-charts, Doc Clark". He smiles at me and even smoothes out his wild eyebrows. He is happy with my progress.

..Tells me that out of fifteen patients on folfirinox, I am the only one who is still able to tolerate the full dose after five infusions. Makes me feel proud.. Makes me feel hopeful..Helps me believe.....Helps us believe..........


A few questions from my "Nurse David" about a new drug to add to my infusion;  but I don't really listen. I am so happy to be his only patient to make it to number six on full dose.

Hanging on the good news...Picks me up. ..Handshakes and smiles and back out to start the big day.  Elevator to floor 8 and check in...


We are fortunate today to have a bed for my eight-hour infusion.


Drugs, drugs, drugs, drugs and MORE DRUGS.  TV helps pass the time and the time does pass. John goes off duty, followed by a replacement nurse who has to leave to go home to take care of her babies. The floor is emptied as everyone else has gone home except for the staff administering the last stage of my infusion.

Now it's 45 min left... Dragging,  Dragging on . 30,... 20,......10 minutes left.


Finally, the last bag is empty and I am hooked up to my take-home pump. A portable infusion of 5-FU which I wear in a fanny pack connected by tubing to my port; runs on a nine volt battery.


In 46 hours, David will remove the needle from my port and disconnect this pump.






GET ME HOME NOW! is all I feel. It's 8:30 and I have had my fill.. Cold is not my friend... Hat, gloves, warm car. Home! Home!... Please, take me home...

David makes me a wonderful dinner of hot crepes and I sit to absorb the warm smell of batter toasting up to a thin crisp pancake.


Thank you David.

Getting up the stairs to bed is hard work .... Made it.
Into my jam jams and  UGG, UGG, UGGG,  YUCK!

Head is spinning, tummy is flip-flopping. Can I fall asleep? NO! NO! NO!

Conan is on,  YIPPEE....first night back.....

Sleep mercifully comes, but with it I dream a Bright Red Devil with a sharp,barbed, forked tongue is straddling my chest. His knees temporarily pin my arms as he forces his greasy, slimy, painfully-barbed tongue down my throat. I awaken in motion as I wrestle him off of me and throw him acrosss the room. Bam! Into the wall and gone. I look over and find I am alone in bed. David is downstairs. I turn on the TV and David comes back when he realizes I am awake.


The TV stays on and the sleeping is on and off until 6AM. can't sleep anymore.. 

I rise to dress. YIKES!  My hands, my feet;  full-blown neuropathy.