Deja vu

Yes, it's 2014 but I'm going back in time to 2010. I'm going back on IV chemotherapy. The Afinitor/Aromasin combination did not work for me. The Xeloda worked much better because I had shrinkage of the liver tumors and lymph nodes but moderate progression in the bones. When I left MD Anderson in October, three months ago, they seemed confident that this new FDA approved drug has been working "very" well for many people with advanced stage disease and that it should work for me. I feel it made mine worse. The results from the scans last week showed progression in the bones, lymph and liver (including NEW fucking lesions in the liver). Dr. McAndrew feels that it could possibly be two different "populations" of cancer - one that is ER+ and another that we haven't biopsied and identified yet. It has been a whirlwind period since Friday when I got the news and immediately went on the attack to find information to save my life.

As a reminder that is exactly what I am trying to do - SAVE MY LIFE. This is serious business. This is all hands on deck. I don't understand why the cancer likes my body so much. Guess what cancer? You are not welcome. To adapt one of my favorite lines from the Princess Bride: "My name is Jessica Berman. You killed my livelihood. Prepare to die"...

Here are updates:

• I got my port installed this morning. This was almost, but not quite, as horrific an experience as last time. This time I got to use the fluoroscope machine for placement but the problem is that the last port caused scarring and damage to the veins in my arm. I requested the best doctor at the procedure center since I didn't trust Wittanable who did it last time (and of course who do you think they scheduled me with for the procedure, yep, Wittanable). Through this process I have learned to be my own advocate (so sorry to hurt your feelings Dr. W) but I wasn't going to let him install this port. I was told Dr. Ng was the best and after much waiting he was who placed the port. He tried for quite a long time, it just wasn't going through. It kept getting stuck in my clavicle/shoulder area. Well, he tried a few wires and yanked my arm a bit and got it through. If he hadn't I would have been cut open for nothing and then got scheduled for port placement in the operating room under anesthesia. Thank the Lord for watching over me in there today.
• Due to the port being in a tight vein or having that difficulty they are placing me on the lowest dose of coumadin. Did you know coumadin is controversial at these low doses as to its efficacy and was originally a form of rat poison? Yippee.
• I have also worked tirelessly with the help of several people to get in contact with Dr. Valter Longo regarding his study for fasting while receiving IV chemotherapy to increase efficacy and reduce side effects of treatment. Over the course of Friday evening with the help of my sorority sister Karen, and two friends Rebecca and Liz through connections at USC and CHLA I was able to 1) learn about the study; 2) learn I didn't qualify (from which I sank into a black hole) and then 30 minutes later 3) learn that Dr. Longo and his registered dietitian on the study would guide me through the study without being a participant in the actual NCI study. I cried tears of joy and was shaking because of that stupid roller coaster. It is emotionally suspenseful and exhausting. One minute you are running to catch the bus but...crap, you hopped on the wrong bus, get off and a free luxury shuttle offer you a free ride to save the day. STRESSFUL.
• I am now meeting the RD to go over the fasting protocol and will then start the fast tomorrow.
• I have done all the work and paid for the penguin cold cap therapy to try during my infusions so I can keep my hair. At this point I don't really care that much about my hair, I felt fine with the wig last time but I think the more I stay looking the same the less the kids will be curious and concerned about my treatment.
• I am flying Wednesday late afternoon to Houston for a Thursday AM appointment at MD Anderson to seek a second opinion on the next course of treatment. Dr. McAndrew recommended Abraxane (over Gemzar, Halaven, Navalbene, and Exempra). 
• I am not interested in getting into a stage 2 or 3 trial. I am more interested in the tried and true drugs that have proven to kick the crap out of cancer's butt (even though the side effects are more challenging).
• I think the oophorectomy isn't needed any more. I am still doing the lupron injections in the meantime to suppress the ovaries. Still waiting for an opinion on that. 
• I'm wondering if there is a way to biopsy the bone lesions to see if the cancer has changed receptors or form thus the liver lesions responding to treatment but the bone lesions increasing their activity. 
• As a result of all this research, emailing, phone calls, scheduling, surgery, emotional roller coaster that causes fatigue and mild depression I haven't spent much time with the kids and it makes me crazy. I miss them and wish I could get this resolved so I can focus on what REALLY matters to me. This family. These kids. 
• I am scheduled for my first infusion this Friday at 8:30AM at Tower with the cold caps but not entirely sure which chemo I will be having...The infusion with cold cap therapy can take 8 hours. I will be there all day. Another day away from the kids AND after being gone Wednesday through Thursday. I hope I have time and feel well enough (strike that) - I plan to be with them for dinner Thursday night and sing silly songs before bed. 

There was this weird moment where I was stretching in the operating room while waiting for the doctor today. I thought gosh, I really feel great. I already feel better after stopping the A/A combo. The soreness and aches in my bones is getting better and my mouth sores have cleared up. You could go on in your life while cancer is growing inside and feel just amazing. It's the treatments and drugs that makes you so ill. They kill you to try to kill the cancer. Either the cancer dies or you do. It seemed that simple to me in that moment. Well, fuck you cancer. Prepare to die. I'm not going anywhere.