The Biggest Secret I Ever Kept: Cancer Rears its Ugly Head

The pain in my side started two months ago. Still hurting a bit from my surgery on my right side, the pain started to radiate down to my hip. My plastic surgeon recommended I stopped doing everything: no twisting, lifting, pulling, pushing, etc. Happy to comply, after about two weeks, my muscle on my side stopped hurting enough that I could tell that the pain was not radiating down...but was starting on my side and radiating up.

The doctor's appointments started then. One and then two, in the same week. Both doctor's ordered ultrasounds, each a different type. One doctor was convinced that I had colon cancer, the next a gallstone. I got an appointment fairly quickly and had an ultrasound two weeks ago Friday. My primary care doctor called me while I was on vacation with my family in Tahoe. He had seen something on my liver in the ultra sound and I needed a CT scan. At this point, I was in quite a bit of pain. However, the excitement of vacation was a great distraction and the pain was bearable. We drove home from Tahoe on Friday and took Harrison to a soccer tournament Saturday. By Sunday morning, I was in so much pain that I could not fathom getting through the day. I took myself to the ER, where they did my CT scan, gave me something for pain and referred me to oncology.

I called in sick to work on Monday. Steve and I met with my oncologist, Dr. Sweet who confirmed with the ER doctor had told me, I had cancer in my liver. Dr. Sweet showed us five-six spots on my liver, one was as big as a golf ball, but flat. He ordered a liver biopsy for Wednesday to confirm his assumption and determine which the tumors type. He assumed it was triple negative, like my breast cancer. He assumed it was metastatic cancer. Not good news.

I conferenced with my supervisors at work throughout the week, working only on Tuesday and Thursday. We agreed that I would not disclose my cancer's return until I knew my course of treatment. I was happy not to talk about it at work. To keep this secret. I knew I had to leave my job for a while and wanted to preserve my last days of normalcy.

On Friday, I saw Dr. Sweet again. At that point, all Dr. Sweet knew was that the tumors were cancer, as confirmed by the biopsy. So, we talked about a plan for treatment on the assumption that it is the metastatic breast cancer and triple negative. The reality of the situation is that this cancer is not curable. The goal of treatment will be to slow the pace of the cancer's growth by any means possible. That being said, after discussing several options, I opted to start chemotherapy on Monday. I am starting Taxol, every week, three weeks on, one week off.

Since this has all happened so fast, I thought I would start with this option, while allowing myself time to research clinical trials, other drugs and alternative therapies. I have changed my diet considerably, cutting out refined sugars and animal fats, adding flax, lots of Vitamin C and E and increasing my intake of fruits and vegetables.

How are we doing? We are completely overwhelmed. The kids are each handling this in their own way. Maddie talks about it; Harrison does not. Steve is hanging in there. He starts teaching again tomorrow, as he is on a year-round schedule. That combined with my new battle is a lot for him to handle. However, I know that he will be the rock star that he always has been once we get into our new routine.

I am sure I am leaving out a lot of things in this entry. I am tired but now that my colleagues know what is going on, I wanted to post the gist the recent happenings. I am trying to stay positive. Trying to be normal, enjoying special moments. I will work a couple more days this week at best and then will be home to focus my energies on this fight. And I know I will need all of the energy that I can muster.

Circle of Life, Rest in Peace, Dear Friend

At 6:30 p.m. on Tuesday, May 31, I was watching underpriviledged youth receive their high school graduation stoles for a program called FACES for the Future, a program that I had helped to initiate three years ago through my job as the Grants Officer for Rady Children's Hospital-San Diego. The audience was brought to tears when one of the graduating Seniors declared that the program had saved her life by helping her avoid a gang lifestyle that is prominent in her neighborhood. I was moved.

At 10:15 p.m. that same night, my husband's cell phone rang. I recognized a familiar tone in his voice indicating that one of his good friends was on the other end of the line. His friend was delivering bad news. Very bad news. Also at 6:30 that night, our friend had been struck by a car while riding his bicycle on a seemingly safe bike path along route 56. He was killed instantly. Struck from behind, the accident happened too fast for him to get out of harm's way. A freak accident. A freak accident that leaves his lovely wife a widow and the single mom of their two kids....who are the same age as mine. Rest in peace, sweet Nick.

I could not help but think of the irony in these to occurrences that night. Underpriviledged youth just starting their lives, lives that have been turned around and changed forever....to a good friend of mine, losing his. I remember Nick and Deb's wedding. I remember how happy they were...I know how happy he made another good friend of mine, Andrew, who was his college roommate and one of my husband's very closest friends. Sincere I think is how I would best describe Nick. Just an all around nice guy....as is his wife.

To be a widow around age 40 is something I cannot even fathom. Deb had wanted Steve and I to hear of Nick's passing from Andrew. I was very touched that she even thought of us in a time like that. I emailed her right away and will call this weekend. I want her to know that I am thinking of her.

I hope that my cancer journey has helped me to know what to do.... I have learned that calling is better than not calling. Support will come and go. Anything I can do to help make her smile is good. Even if I can put a twinkle in her eye for a split second, I am helping. These things I know....because in my most dark hours, these things are what I needed.

Now is my chance to give back.....

As I go to bed tonight, my thoughts are truly with Deb. I hope someone is staying at the house with her. I envision her and her kids all sleeping in one bed. I envision her getting up in the middle of the night to cry in the other room so as to not to wake her sleeping angels. And I know Nick is watching over them all.

And as I go to bed tonight, I will go look in on my sleeping angels, thankful for all my many blessings...and at this time especially, thankful that my cancer journey has taught me what to do in times of tragedy.