Still an Avatar

Started on the same two drugs again - the "little white pill", Tarceva, at a lower dose. The logistics of finding a way to afford the drug after that will take time, perhaps until July 1st when my Medicare starts. Until then, the Avatar protocol will hopefully hold growth and spread to a minimum. Maybe the lower dose will work better - you know, like 1 or 2 cups of coffee vs 9 cups. ;-)

Still, the news from the recent battery of scans and tests has given me (and Jacki, Kate and . . .) pause to consider and feel the current facts of my particular brand of cancer: there is no cure and the best current treatment can slow growth but not stop it. The best medical hope is that I can endure until a "cure", perhaps genetic intervention, is found. Short of that, continued growth and spread of the disease will take me out of this life. Previously I had looked only at the nodules in my lungs as very slow growing, leading to a long drawn out bout of cancer. Throw in the spread to my bones and new growth in my lungs, and the long part shortens.

Last weekend Jacki and I went to a friend's cabin in the mountains and considered the ramifications of the news from 10 days ago. I look at the previous sentence and know at a visceral level that it is a cold and shallow statement of what is really going on. The bottom line is that the road to my death is shorter and the time is sooner. Not imminent, but not long and drawn out so much as previously assumed. In the mountains we shared the intimacy of getting in touch with great sadness. We shared a gut level appreciation for where we have been and the richness of our life together today. But we also cried and talked, taking notes about end of life matters.

So now, a few days later, I have taken 5 days of the new reduced dose of little white pill poison, and I had an infusion Thursday. As before the two post infusion days are extra fuzzy and tired. So far the good hours each day seem to total about 8 instead of the old 6. I even have some hair growing on my arms. The acne-like rash on my face is still gone. I am still very tired, but the naps are shorter. I have gained 5lbs. All in all, the break from chemo was really nice, and so far the side effects are still less than before.

Some moments are bleak outlook "screw it, I'll just roll over and die!" Other moments are over the top optimistic expecting a miracle as though I know the details of God's plan. Other moments are just that: the small bits of life that are to be noticed, appreciated and shared. This moment is awesome! Oops, that moment passed, but check out this moment! And now another moment. Did we notice?
Bill