Bobka the dog perched on my right leg for about 20 minutes last night while I was relaxing before heading off to choir rehearsal. When he got up, the skin felt numb and it's stayed so throughout the day today. In addition, I noticed some small, red dots in a circular pattern in two locations on my right thigh. I called Dr G's office this morning and he is going to squeeze me in for a physical exam before today's scheduled MRI.
Again, we can't do anything to address brain mets until we get the pain under control.
This really sucks.
Showing posts with label brain metastases. Show all posts
Showing posts with label brain metastases. Show all posts
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Brain mets update
I ran into Dr G while dropping off a form at his office, just long enough to say hello. His wonderful nurse Jacque told me that Dr G had spoken with Dr Stephen Eulau, my radiation oncologist. I called Dr Eulau and he said that he thought I'd be a good candidate for gamma knife.
Why gamma knife? Because it's supposed to be more effective at pinpoint treatment inside the brain. (Evidently cyber knife is better for other lesions in the body, such as in the liver.) I asked Dr Eulau what he thought about treating my liver mets with gamma or cyber knife and he recommended I speak to the specialists when I see them.
So hopefully I will set up an appointment soon, ask my questions, and be considered a good candidate for this very high tech treatment.
On another front, when I got home and let Bobka out, he limped back inside, favoring his left front paw. Many of you remember when Pumpkin's leg broke last June, the day before I was scheduled for chemo. The poor dog lay in his bed all day Monday until we got home from the Cancer Institute and once the vet diagnosed a pathological fracture, likely related to a metastasized sarcoma, we had to decide to euthanize him immediately. It was a terrible day.
I was so freaked out by Bob's limping that I called the vet, got an immediate appointment, carried him to the car and drove over. The vet examined him carefully and said he might have torced his leg while romping outside or even been stung by a bee, causing him to favor the leg. At any rate, she said there was no reason to suspect a fracture or anything more serious, gave Bob all the treats he could munch on, and sent us home with some doggy anti-inflammatories and the suggestion to keep him quiet for a day or so, monitor the limp, and if it doesn't improve, call her again.
This one incident caused my anxiety level to rise dramatically. I'm not normally anxious, but my heart was racing and I felt extremely stressed and barely able to cope. I've taken some Ativan and will try to get a nap, or at least try to relax. While I may feel as though I am handling the brain mets news, clearly at some level it bugs me tremendously and that came through in my concern over Bobka.
Why gamma knife? Because it's supposed to be more effective at pinpoint treatment inside the brain. (Evidently cyber knife is better for other lesions in the body, such as in the liver.) I asked Dr Eulau what he thought about treating my liver mets with gamma or cyber knife and he recommended I speak to the specialists when I see them.
So hopefully I will set up an appointment soon, ask my questions, and be considered a good candidate for this very high tech treatment.
On another front, when I got home and let Bobka out, he limped back inside, favoring his left front paw. Many of you remember when Pumpkin's leg broke last June, the day before I was scheduled for chemo. The poor dog lay in his bed all day Monday until we got home from the Cancer Institute and once the vet diagnosed a pathological fracture, likely related to a metastasized sarcoma, we had to decide to euthanize him immediately. It was a terrible day.
I was so freaked out by Bob's limping that I called the vet, got an immediate appointment, carried him to the car and drove over. The vet examined him carefully and said he might have torced his leg while romping outside or even been stung by a bee, causing him to favor the leg. At any rate, she said there was no reason to suspect a fracture or anything more serious, gave Bob all the treats he could munch on, and sent us home with some doggy anti-inflammatories and the suggestion to keep him quiet for a day or so, monitor the limp, and if it doesn't improve, call her again.
This one incident caused my anxiety level to rise dramatically. I'm not normally anxious, but my heart was racing and I felt extremely stressed and barely able to cope. I've taken some Ativan and will try to get a nap, or at least try to relax. While I may feel as though I am handling the brain mets news, clearly at some level it bugs me tremendously and that came through in my concern over Bobka.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Check out this website
My sister turned me on to this website on brain metastases related to breast cancer. It feels kind of technical but appears to have good information.
A sunny morning helps
After spending more than 12 hours in bed, I awoke today to sunshine and warmer temperatures. Given that I'm a basically balanced person, this should help me return to some equilibrium after yesterday's news about brain mets.
I cried myself to sleep yesterday (after taking some Ativan so I wouldn't stress too much). But in my grief and fear, I remembered that one of the women in my cancer support group has had metastatic breast cancer almost as long as I have, and she's had brain mets almost all that time. I need to talk with C and find out what treatments she's had.
The other thing Dr G did yesterday was administer a longer gross neurological test. He always does the same things: close your eyes and hold your arms out palm up, push against me, pull me toward you. Yesterday he added touch your finger to my finger, then to your nose, then to my finger again (both hands); stand up and hold your arms out palm up; etc. At the end he said my cerebellum appears fine. So my worries of immediate brain difficulties were eased.
For today, I am going to walk the dog, run some errands, get caught up on email, write a talk for this Sunday's synagogue annual meeting, and finish some ironing. Maybe watch a little TV while I iron. I plan to go to rehearsal tonight and basically live as normal a life as I can while we figure out what to do next.
I cried myself to sleep yesterday (after taking some Ativan so I wouldn't stress too much). But in my grief and fear, I remembered that one of the women in my cancer support group has had metastatic breast cancer almost as long as I have, and she's had brain mets almost all that time. I need to talk with C and find out what treatments she's had.
The other thing Dr G did yesterday was administer a longer gross neurological test. He always does the same things: close your eyes and hold your arms out palm up, push against me, pull me toward you. Yesterday he added touch your finger to my finger, then to your nose, then to my finger again (both hands); stand up and hold your arms out palm up; etc. At the end he said my cerebellum appears fine. So my worries of immediate brain difficulties were eased.
For today, I am going to walk the dog, run some errands, get caught up on email, write a talk for this Sunday's synagogue annual meeting, and finish some ironing. Maybe watch a little TV while I iron. I plan to go to rehearsal tonight and basically live as normal a life as I can while we figure out what to do next.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Brain mets
Possibly one of the scariest things a patient can hear (after "You have cancer" and before "There's nothing else we can do for you") are the words brain metastases.
Last week's brain MRI showed three lesions in my right cerebellum. They don't behave definitively like cancer, but as the radiologist who read the scan said to Dr G, what else could they be?
So the feeling stupid, making typos and feeling not-quite-vertigo were worth reporting and not related solely to starting the new chemo combo or tapering off the antidepressant (which it looks like I will need to start again anyway).
It's going to take me some time to wrap my head around this news. Here are the brief things I know so far:
1) I will see my radiation oncologist, Stephen Eulau, to get his opinion on whether or not I should have cyber knife or gamma knife treatments. Since these are about $80,000 per lesion, and I have three lesions, the insurance company may not cover the procedure, which Swedish does perform (cyber knife).
2) Dr G is against whole brain radiation, which he says will leave me feeling much more stupid, and prone to make many more typing errors, than I feel now.
3) I will continue on the Abraxane for one more week, and next week's labs will also test a sample of CA 27.29, my tumor marker. If the tumor marker shows a decline, then we might continue the Abraxane/Avastin combo. If it continues to go up, then Dr G will consider changing to Xeloda, an oral chemotherapy which he believes is more proven to cross the blood/brain barrier.
The active drug in Xeloda, 5 FU, is the one that put me in the hospital in 2009 with severe infections. However, if I'm monitored more closely, and given a lower oral dose, instead of a larger intravenous dose, it might not prove so toxic.
Like I said, this is a lot to digest. I'm going to bed now and will write more tomorrow. Those of you who live nearby and want to talk, I'm just not up for it now, but Rik might be.
Last week's brain MRI showed three lesions in my right cerebellum. They don't behave definitively like cancer, but as the radiologist who read the scan said to Dr G, what else could they be?
So the feeling stupid, making typos and feeling not-quite-vertigo were worth reporting and not related solely to starting the new chemo combo or tapering off the antidepressant (which it looks like I will need to start again anyway).
It's going to take me some time to wrap my head around this news. Here are the brief things I know so far:
1) I will see my radiation oncologist, Stephen Eulau, to get his opinion on whether or not I should have cyber knife or gamma knife treatments. Since these are about $80,000 per lesion, and I have three lesions, the insurance company may not cover the procedure, which Swedish does perform (cyber knife).
2) Dr G is against whole brain radiation, which he says will leave me feeling much more stupid, and prone to make many more typing errors, than I feel now.
3) I will continue on the Abraxane for one more week, and next week's labs will also test a sample of CA 27.29, my tumor marker. If the tumor marker shows a decline, then we might continue the Abraxane/Avastin combo. If it continues to go up, then Dr G will consider changing to Xeloda, an oral chemotherapy which he believes is more proven to cross the blood/brain barrier.
The active drug in Xeloda, 5 FU, is the one that put me in the hospital in 2009 with severe infections. However, if I'm monitored more closely, and given a lower oral dose, instead of a larger intravenous dose, it might not prove so toxic.
Like I said, this is a lot to digest. I'm going to bed now and will write more tomorrow. Those of you who live nearby and want to talk, I'm just not up for it now, but Rik might be.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)