Updated MRI Results

I'm in my happy place, Green Lake. I mean, don't get me wrong - Edmonds is my home. We've grown roots and continue to be nurtured there, but Green Lake has held my hand throughout the majority of our cancer journey. I always find myself at Peet's Coffee & Tea shop at Green Lake sipping on a matcha latte (unsweetened, almond milk - please don't forget the extra scoop of matcha) when I'm dealing with MRI madness. It's my treat on MRI days. It's where I go to celebrate reports, or stress over the ambiguous findings. 

I'm here in the city for a last minute doctor's appointment, and have been managing the details of our "recurrence" all day (emails, phone calls between doctors and insurance). Here's the information from UCLA. 

UCLA: They reviewed your scans last week [at the tumor board] and feel like there are mild subtle changes so it is suggested that radiation would be a good thing to start at this point. They also mentioned a clinical trial involving an IDH1inhibitor. Perhaps you should meet with them [radiation oncologist & neuro oncologist] to discuss your options.

Me: When the tumor board meets, and there are recommendations given, is there a report that I can access and review? I assume there is some sort of documentation of the process.

UCLA: We don't really have a written report per say that I can provide you.

Me: I'm curious because, when you say there has been progression, I would like to see the measurements, and assessments of the increased disease. As you know I send the copy of the UW's MRI scan to UCLA, along with the radiology report from UW, and their report didn't reflect your findings. It's confusing to me that you would find changes that they did not find.

UCLA: It's been subtle changes over time, of the T2 FLAIR signal. I don't know if UW compared all of your scans.

Me: Yes, the radiology report from UW did compare back the scans for the past few years.

UCLA: Well, they reviewed it at our tumor board and they found subtle mild changes over time. One radiologist might see something different or use different techniques. Also, it was very mild changes. Once again, it might be worth meeting with the neuro and radiation oncologists to discuss your options. Just to see what your options are at this point.

Me: So, is it more of a FLAIR issue as opposed to a nodular issue? 

UCLA: Yes, it's mostly FLAIR. There was no enhancing nodular lesions. 

Me: So, going back to January 2013, I've been doing an immuno therapy, a dendritic cell therapy, and I had recently received a shot about three weeks before the MRI. So I'm wondering if there's any possibility that the treatment could be effecting the FLAIR. If you're concerned about the FLAIR, which I assume you mean brightness - as opposed to size of the area - perhaps it could be correlated with treatment effect?

UCLA: So you started the treatment in January 2013? And how long have you been doing the vaccine, and how often?

Me: Ten shots the first year, then every other month in the second year, then every third month this year. 

UCLA: I mean, yes, that could be playing a part in it too. What I can do is confirm with Dr L that you were doing the dendritic cell vaccine, because that will play a part in how they [tumor board] read it. I'm not sure if they had that listed [as one of your treatments]. I had the Newcastle Disease Virus listed.

Me: Yes! That's the one. Great.

UCLA: Oh, okay. Well, I didn't realize that was a dendritic cell vaccine. And perhaps that could account for some of how they were reading it. I mean it was very subtle, very mild, but as you know as soon as they see any changes they prefer you to start chemo and radiation and do some standard treatments.

Me: Yep, that makes sense. So if it's an increase in FLAIR is that something that a DOPA-PET scan would pick up? 

UCLA: Um, yes, you could possibly have another DOPA, the only thing is that the DOPA is no longer being manufactured. It's not available to anyone at this point, for whatever reason. 

Me: How long has that been?

UCLA: Recently. Perhaps a month. There's other types of PET scans that you can do, though. Let me reconfirm with Dr L to see what she might recommend. I don't think we knew that you were on a dendritic cell vaccine. It could definitely play a part in what they're thinking. I don't really know because I was not at the tumor board meeting.

Me: Well, if you don't mind talking with Dr L to see what she thinks about the dendritic cell vaccine and imaging - along with any possible scans that could be beneficial to differentiate between inflammation/scar tissue that would be great. These scans are very tricky.

UCLA: Yes, well there are differences in reading techniques. You send it here and our radiologists may pick up on something. And we didn't know you were doing a dendritic cell vaccine because that could definitely cause an increase in FLAIR.

Me: If it's an increase in FLAIR that is definitely something to be concerned about. I did, however, have two shots of the pure NDV and then a followup with the vaccine about three weeks prior to the MRI. I had been told to give it at least two weeks between, but who knows, maybe I had a larger effect.

UCLA: Well she definitely said it was very subtle, and very mild. I'll just reconfirm that there isn't another scan or something that she would like. 

In the meantime, I reached out to the German clinic explaining the two differing views and mentioned that we will have a third independent opinion in a few weeks. Today, I received a response that they think a MRI in six months is sufficient. Although they are curious to hear what the third reading would find. I imagine that if the third, independent review, finds a recurrence is likely, we will adjust and increase my immuno treatments. (Among other things of course.)

I also heard back from UCLA and they definitely believe that the dendritic cell therapy could be to blame regarding the FLAIR. They said that they would have read the MRI differently had they known that I was getting DC therapy. I thought that was odd since I have always been open and honest with Dr L. They have all my notes of everything I'm doing and have done. The truth is that they didn't really review my file before the tumor board. 

The recommendation is to conduct a FDG-PET or another MRI in three months. So now I wonder, would they have ever recommended radiation or a clinical trial had they read my patient notes, or would they have considered me "stable, no change"? Of course, we will never know, but I feel much better about this possible "recurrence". 

So the next step? We wait for the review from the independent radiologist. They're not affiliated with any treatment center which makes me feel more confident about their opinions. They don't recommend treatments, only analyze images. They don't take insurance, but at times like this their expertise is invaluable. It will probably be a few weeks before we have more information. Since the German doctors seem optimistically cautious, I feel pretty good myself. They did not recommend moving up my treatment schedule, nor did they recommend adjusting the formula. Since we're just waiting for more information, now I have to figure out how I want to absorb this situation. I feel like it's an opportunity to hit the ground running with my health. A reboot in diet, and exercise, and attitude. 

And it is not escaping me how quickly they were willing to throw me into radiation and a clinical trial. There is a very high probability that my FLAIR signal is just treatment response cleaning out cancer cells. This is why it is so incredibly important to ask as many questions as possible. To hit every target you can. To trust your gut and verify, then verify, then get another INDEPENDENT opinion. I believe that if I would have sent for a third opinion at a treating hospital, they would very likely find a reason to corroborate UCLA's results. There is almost a backroom handshake thing that goes on between cancer centers because they don't want to get sued. They don't want to go against the grain. They don't want to disprove another center's recommendations of treatment because they could get burned by a true positive later. Then the patients get pissed, sometimes so pissed that they engage in litigation. 

You must be in charge of your own care. You must treat results with a heavy dose of skepticism. You must always try to find objective sources to review your files (a place that will not benefit by the outcome of your results). 

UCLA may be correct in their findings. Perhaps the tumor is growing slightly, subtly, over time, but if it's that hard to discern then we should be able to snuff this puppy out! I just need to refocus and quit screwing around. 

The hardest part is diet. I've read and researched so many diets, so many success and horror stories of things working or not working and there are no absolutes. Certain diets work for some people, and other times they don't. I have to keep going back to the basics. The basics are that if you calorically restrict, it doesn't really matter what you eat. At least according to Seyfried's research. I wish I wasn't such a foodie. And by foodie I mean a big portion eater. 

I don't know if you can see the above chart very well, but from left to right the columns are: Unrestricted (UR) Standard American Diet (SD), Restricted (R) Standard American Diet (SD), Unrestricted (UR) Ketogenic Diet (KD), Restricted (R) Ketogenic Diet (KD). As you can clearly see, the Restricted (R) Standard American Diet (SD) actually achieves lower tumor burden than the Restricted (R) Ketogenic Diet (KD). So I'm not even convinced that cancer diets are as much about macronutrients (carbs, sugar, protein), as it is about quantity of food (total calories). Bad news for me the big burrito eating queen. Of course, if you restrict your diet calorically with the Standard American Diet and get those results, I wonder what the tumor burden would be if you restricted vegetarian, or vegan, or paleo, or [insert diet]. I would love to see a comparison of all the various diets under the same parameters. But at least we have this chart to assess. It's a start.

First Steps

I can't easily type because I went all gung-ho around the house yesterday, trying to distract myself as we await further information from UCLA about my recurrence, and I sliced myself.

As we wait, I grabbed a copy of all three of the most resent MRI scans (I keep copies of everything) and we shipped them to an independent radiology reading facility that we've used in the past. Hopefully they can give us more information about what's going on in my brain. 

It's always hard when doctors don't agree about your condition, but (as a few people mentioned) it's better than a definitive recurrence. That implies it must not be obvious growth. Either that or someone was asleep at the wheel.

I'll keep you guys posted on anything we find out along the way.

Shit Shit Shit. Another Recurrence.

My my mind is all over the place. I don't quite know what to do.

Crap. CRAP. I just got off the phone with a representative from UCLA Neurosurgery. It looks like I have my third recurrence. I don't understand how University of Washington could have reviewed my most recent scan to past scans and felt there was no recurrence, yet UCLA is confident the tumor has grown.

I need more information. I've asked for copies of the notes from the UCLA tumor board, and their radiology review. I've asked for a callback from one of the doctors or physician's assistants, since Dr Liau is too busy to handle me personally anymore. I worry that this is going to turn into a thing. A frustrating thing where I will need more of their scientific reasoning, and proof that the tumor has grown. That I will need to see measurements, and assessments. What about a DOPA-PET scan. Remember that scan that I took in LA back in October of 2013? It's a special scan for low grade gliomas that will differentiate between tumor and scar tissue, clarifying the MRI images. Why didn't they ask for that? Do they think that my tumor has advanced in stage? (Uh-oh.)

I'm not surprised that the tumor has grown, it's what they do. But I'm not going to start a treatment program based on an office worker's forwarded information. I want to talk to the doctors, and the decision makers. I want to talk to people that can answer all of my questions. I am a patient, and I respect my doctors, but insurance, and our money goes to pay their bills. I deserve answers. Doctors are just contract workers. I think it's always important to treat them with respect, but I also believe that we should be treated like peers. If I want/need more information, I deserve to have it.

They would like me to start radiation, and possibly enter into the following clinical trial (clearly I'm going to need more information):

Study of Orally Administered AG-120 in Subjects With Advanced Solid Tumors, Including Glioma, With an IDH1 Mutation

Phase: Phase I
Type: Biomarker/Laboratory analysis, Treatment
Age: 18 and over
Trial IDs: AG120-C-002, NCI-2014-00868, NCT02073994

Here comes another cancer trial, with it, a new motto.

UCLA Tumor Board

Morning Guys!

Usually you never want immediate results from your doctor. Fast phone calls after an appointment or scan is often because they have something report. You never want something to report. That being said, I received a phone call from UCLA Neurosurgery yesterday morning. They had received my radiology report (in record time - it usually takes weeks) and they were emailing me instructions on how to upload the images. (Good thing I hadn't mailed the disk yet!) They recently upgraded their computer system and after a dead end at the library, I was able to go to my friend's house and upload the report. It took a total of four minutes! Talk about fast. That's way better than the several weeks it usually takes. It's not that the US mail takes that long, it's the web of the UCLA mail department, then the physical disk has to be uploaded by a UCLA employee. And since I was able to bypass all that noise, and uploaded it on a Tuesday, I was told that my brain scan will be up for review today at the tumor board.

Now, we were pretty excited about the UW radiology report of my brain, but after uploading the images, I scrolled through my brain and was reminded of how huge the tumor is. The amount of haze. The thick white area, and the diffuse area which spans, probably, a fifth of my brain matter. It's disturbing. And scary. After the last MRI we chose not to look at the images, it was too upsetting. That means it has been a year since we looked inside my brain. Naïvely, I keep hoping that the tumor has shrunk, but no such luck.

If we're lucky, we should have an update on the status of my tumor from UCLA later today, but most likely it will be tomorrow. There are a lot of patients who will be looking for their results. Lots of anxious people. It's amazing how these results can completely change the trajectory of your life. Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a labyrinth. That I'm constantly standing in the front of two doorways. I never know what's behind them. I never know where I'm headed.

MRI RESULTS!

Here are the important things:

1. Surrounding FLAIR hyperintensity is unchanged.

2. There is no evidence of new areas of enhancement at the resection cite or elsewhere in the brain parenchyma.

3. A right frontal development venous anomoly is noted. (?)

4. Stable post surgical changes related to left parietal craniotomy and tumor resection without evidence of recurrent disease.

Looks good to us!!!! Time to jump for joy and make Dan a pack lunch for his second shift at work today. At least these long hours can keep his thoughts happy! Thank you for the love and support, and the ride to the hospital from my friend Jozann! What an angel she is. I told her to just drop me off but she wouldn't leave me by myself and stayed with us the entire time. Now THAT is a friend. You guys sure know how to support a girl.

Phew!!!! WOOOOEEEEE!!! Now I can stay up all night reading my book about the Lusitania disaster. Hey, we all gotta have ways to celebrate. Ha!

Final results from UCLA should be in a few weeks, but with no obvious regrow, I'm a happy girl!

When You Can't Bear it Alone

You guys are so sweet to me. Thank you for picking me up with the kind comments. I always feel awkward by how nice you all are, feeling like I don't deserve it. But it makes me feel incredibly special too - regardless of whether I feel like I don't deserve the praise. It took some time, but little by little I started feeling better. I did it by forcing myself to get out of the house and back into my walking group (other than today, but it's because I couldn't sleep last night and was afraid I might have a seizure). They always make me smile, fill me with hugs, and encourage me - as they do with everyone else in the group. It's more like a mutual appreciation and laughing club, that walks. In fact, I feel like I stole that description from one of the fabulous women in the group. So far I've been taking it up a notch by running to and from the walking group (other than accepting a ride home one day). Those stupid amazing endorphins really do change your mood. It's annoying but true. Aaaand convenient, I guess (she said begrudgingly). 

The MRI is set for this Saturday, with preliminary results on Monday. (I just go to the UW records department to get the results myself - no doctor.) I'm stressed, and not sleeping well, but I've laid off the anti-anxiety pills because I'm afraid I've become dependent in order to sleep. I never want to be dependent on anything. *isnt that ironic* 

As I type this, Dan is taking his three hour nap, he's currently scheduled for four days of 18 hours per day of work (trying to make up for the added expense of heading back to Germany unexpectedly for more treatments last month). Happily it's bookending the weekend so he can rest some in the middle. He's taking me to the MRI Saturday though, and it will be filmed for the upcoming documentary episode. They're also going to film on Monday when we head to get the results. I hesitated for a second when they asked to film, but in thinking about it I realized it wouldn't change anything whether they film it or not. At this point, nothing will change the outcome - other than a miracle. A miracle? But we wouldn't even know if a miracle occurred since we wouldn't have a before and after. And I don't even know what type of miracle would be best. Would the best miracle be that the tumor has not grown? Or is my path meant to teach me more? I don't know. I don't know what fate has in store for me. I have zero expectations. I still have anxiety because I'm scared. Not of dying - although that too - but of the memory of all the pain I've gone through - the brain surgeries especially. I honestly don't know if I can ever handle another brain surgery. I can't even imagine it. I don't want to. Three was enough.

Sweet dreams to all, I think I should head to bed early to see if I can magically get some extra rest. 

Since Dan's working so hard, I've been making him comfort food. Today I tried this recipe (using whole eggs - no dividing into whites, sub white cheddar for mozzarella, double the kale, and the addition of a bushel of beet greens):

http://www.myutensilcrock.com/2015/04/11/kale-and-egg-quiche-with-sweet-potato-crust/

It was a major hit!

Love you guys. Thank you for being my friends, my family. For cherishing me and for helping me bounce back when life is too hard for me to bear alone. You have no idea how much you help me. I am eternally grateful.

Impending MRI Impending Life

I don't want to share this. I don't want to say it. I hate that I have to release, but the truth is that I can't handle my feelings. I have best friends, and I know that they would do anything for me. They know that I hurt, but they don't know my pain because I can't tell anyone, not even them. I've never told anyone how I badly I hurt. The pain of this, the diagnosis, the hamster wheel I live on. I give pieces to Dan, to my mom, to my dad, but if I gave any one person my whole sadness, it would be the meanest gift, and I refuse. Yet here I am, I can't stand it anymore. But it's a choice to read; close the window if it's too much.

I would rather cry alone, than burden my friends. I would rather hurt, and sob, by myself, because my friends have their own lives. No one's life is easy. It has taken me years to understand that, but I get it now. I'm a ghost that is here, but that doesn't live. People see me, or my hologram, but they don't know me. I just float.

I was meant to be a mother. I was meant to be a mom. What is my life without that? I found the most kind, handsome, generous, thoughtful, fantastic, man, but he always expected a family too. But now he worries about me. ME. He should have kids by now, he should have that beautiful love from his own children, that sticky snot filled, accidental wet bed, picky eating life, and I can't give that to him. And what is a life without children? Seriously, to those of you who read this, can you imagine your life without your kids? 

That is the life I live every day, that deep sadness. A life where I try to trick myself into happiness. "Hooray, I'm alive." And yes, of course, I should be happy that I'm alive, but what is this? I'm helping other people function in their own families. I'm helping mothers and fathers, born and unborn, and I have become this au pair for cancer patients, for cancer families, yet here I am, unable to have my own life. I hang on the edge of despair, worrying about my cancer friends, but I need to take care of myself and I hate that I can't compartmentalize. But I can't. So I just live sad. I live on anti-anxiety pills. I wonder how I'm even supposed to help because I'm nothing special, just a talker. I'm a not a specialist. I'm not a doctor. 

I've devoted myself so fully to help others, but I need to start focusing on what it means to be 35, without children, barely able to pay for our cancer treatments. I am an educated woman, with degrees, but I bought into what the doctors said about the fact that I would die immanently. So I've been in a mad dash to help others survive, but how am I going to live long term with my treatment responsibilities? I can't just take care of everyone else. And, how do I live my own life? And how do I make Danny's dreams come true? I feel so responsible. I feel overwhelmed. I feel sad. And I wonder what the point of this life is. I have watched others die for various reasons and its all confusing and messed up and it had nothing to do with working hard, or being a good person. I am not here right now because I'm somehow significantly better than anyone else on earth. 

So I just do my best. But what do you do when you know you can't give your husband children. That you've just isolated him. Danny should not be an old man without a family. Without children. Without that special, magical love. So yes, I am alive. I'm alive longer than I technically should have been, but, is this the life I would want for him? Never.

Here I am being grossly honest, and confused. What shall I do with my life? What will I be if not a mother? My heart breaks every day. I cry every day, whether its internal or literal. The worst thing is making others feel uncomfortable, so I try to hide it, dsguise my pain.

But it's the truth. And it hurts me to be real, but I will know in two weeks if my brain tumor is growing again or not, and sometimes I wonder, when I feel this despair, will it really matter? In the sliding door of life, what would be best for Dan?

The Ultimate Elixir: Family

I have another infusion today of the NDV. We've just returned from visiting my Polish family, it was the highlight of the trip! Dan finally met Anna, Zosha, Krzysztof, Marcin, and Kasian. I've been battling an infection, and it evolved into my lungs, so I hope I haven't been getting others sick. My brain is all over the place because of my cold, and my exhaustion, but like our overweight cat Bingie, I'm fat and happy. My family treated us like royalty. The food, the love, the laughter. It was so much fun!

Mushroom hunting with the family. It's grandma's favorite activity. 

Checking out the old town of Gdansk where my family lives with my cousins Marcin and Kasia. We walked something like 40 flights of stairs to the top of the church for the best view. My hamstrings are still killing me. I'm embarrassed by how out of shape I've become. For penance I've been doing sets of ten push-ups every few hours in the hotel, I squish it between coughing fits.

Kasia hard at work with the family tree. She and I will continue the family traditions, making sure the family stays in touch forever. It's really crazy, Dan noticed so many similarities between Kasia and I. It's in our mannerisms, we say the same thing at the same time, we laugh at the same stuff, she is my Polish sister. I feel exponentially blessed to know my Polish family. My cousin Marcin is brilliant and thoughtful. My Aunt Zosha is just like my mom, taking care of everyone all the time, even Uncle Krzysztof notices the similarities between my mom and aunt Zosha. It all happened because my dad took an address from an old envelope from family correspondence between elders, and he tracked down grandma Anna while he was in Poland 25-30 years ago for a hemp symposium. She is the matriarch of the family. Once he could prove our lineage (I mean, come on, who just shows up claiming to be family), we have been loved and included into the family ever since. They literally brought him into the home and brought more and more of the family to introduce the American family member that popped up. It was a miracle of kindness, and a blessing in our lives. To have family that cares for us, and we for them, and they literally live on the other side of the world. Thankfully there's iPhones and Facebook so we can text and talk and always be in contact. 

Each family member is perfect, and I just wish we lived closer. But thankfully, my treatment in Germany isn't too far away from my family. It's a gift that I will be going back to Duderstadt for the rest of my life for treatment. It will give me the excuse to see the family often, to grow with them, to stay close and connected. 

Okay, time for another infusion. It makes me tired, and I'm already sick, but I love these treatments because I know they heal my body. I have 100% confidence in this immunotherapy and of my doctor. 

Hope all is well back home. Sending lots, and lots of love! 

I may be sick right now, but my family is an elixir that fills my soul with happiness. Of course, I couldn't leave the family without a braid of their fresh garlic. I've been eating it ever since. Everyone knows garlic is the ultimate cure all. Visiting with my Polish fam was like being home. Not a lot of people get to say that, that they have two homes filled with love and they're halfway around the world. I am overwhelmed by the fortunate life I get to live. The amazing people in my life. 

Now it's time to get bundled up for a walk to the clinic for my infusion. Wish me luck. Hopefully my advancing sickness won't delay treatment.

Medical Honeymoon

Remember how the German clinic asked me to come back ASAP to harvest more dendritic cells? Well? Fortunately, Dan had been banking sick leave for almost a year and a half, knowing this day would come, so he was able to join me. We have a house sitter at home so that Bing the cat won't be too lonely, and Emma dog is with Grammie Linda. With our babies taken care of, we're off on our biggest adventure to date. Originally, the clinic made specific dates for treatment, and we are making our way that direction.

Today we are in Dordrecht, staying with a Dutch family. (We're traveling in a combination of guest houses/loft rooms and hotels working to keep costs down, but also we wanted learn more about the native cultures and there's no better way than staying with the locals.) 

The Netherlands is so charming, and the people are cheery and kind. Dordrecht is the oldest city of all of the Netherlands. The buildings, the churches, it's pure charm. It's sleepy, and fresh. This afternoon, we went for a run around the cobblestone streets, and now after bathing, I've wiggled into a plush blue velvet couch to type. Dan went for a walk to the local market to grab some beer, and wine. We have to take advantage of our gorgeous rooftop patio. 

We already have some local spelt bread, fresh cheeses, and cured meats. I became obsessed with the local veg since they're all grown right here and are dirt cheap - and FRESH. I am gobbling up cucumbers left and right. Pennies on the dollar. In fact, if they grow it here it's dirt cheap. I can't believe how affordable everything is! Now, you won't find pineapple or other luxury perishable items, but who needs 'em! 

I could live like this. Bikes everywhere, birds, boats, walkers, salty air, a calmness. It's everything I could have dreamed of. When we moved from Seattle to Edmonds we fell in love with the slower pace of life. The irony is that Dordrecht makes Edmonds feel like Gotham.

Just a few hours ago we watched, from our balcony, a newly married couple go by. Apparently, it is tradition that the groom from the ceremony peddles his new wife to the celebration. And just as I type this the church bells chime. Dordrecht couldn't be more magical!

The Carrolls meet THE Carroll

I've been up since 4:00 am and it's all because of a seizure. I've had a seizure in my sleep before (according to Danny - I don't remember it), but on September 11th, just a few days ago, just at the same time as the anniversary of the twin towers collapsing, I was jolted out of bed, screaming to Danny that I was having a seizure. He jumped into action, knowing fully what to do, but I couldn't stop myself from screaming, "Water, pills, water, pills, water, pills, hurry, hurry!!!" It was like I was in a trance. A trance where you can't feel or move your right side. A trance where you have no control over your body, or your mind. It was powerful, but not a grand mal. My whole right side, from the tip of my toes to my cranium was tingling and throbbing. I was paralyzed, even unable to drink on my own. Danny held a glass to my mouth as water sloshed all over my face and neck, soaking our mattress. When the seizure subsided, I couldn't talk or think or make sense of what had just happened. So here I sit in the dark while most people sleep. I don't sleep because I'm afraid to. I don't know how long this fear will last, and I know it will abate, but I wonder if this new experience will stick with me forever. Will I always have a deep-rooted fear of a sleep seizure? Is this going to haunt my dreams, nestle into my subconscious?

Ever since I was diagnosed I've been afraid to miss anything. I want to soak up life, to enjoy every moment. But sleep is paramount too. I'm not sure what I'm going to do about this new found issue. I live life big. I laugh and jump and dance (albeit ridiculously), but I'm fearful too. I may be the happiest yet most terrified person on Earth. I'm scared every single day that the mass in my brain will grow. I'm scared every single day that I may be one of the ones who die young and I won't be able to stop it. I'm scared every single day I'm eating the wrong thing, drinking the wrong thing, putting the wrong product on my body (the toxins), that I'm too near the wifi, that our water has too much crap in it, that I'm not exercising enough or that I'm exercising too much. But what permeates the most in each moment is that I'm scared every single day that I will have a seizure. And now, to add to the list, I'm scared that I'm going to be woken up mid-seizure. It's like waking up to the fire alarm, but it's not a drill, there's a literal fire in your brain, and it's surging through your body. And when it's over, you're ravaged. You're wiped. You're almost ruined, but you know you have to rebuild. And with any disaster, it's the aftermath that takes the most work.

The irony of everything is that I was jolted out of bed with that nasty seizure on the morning I was to go to a Seahawks practice. The day I was going to meet coach Pete Carroll. Dan was temped to cancel because I wasn't making sense and my face was droopy, but I begged, and I pleaded, and he tilted his head, squinting, and said okay. The unfortunate part is that one major side effect of my seizures (although I'll bet it's common with many) is memory loss for about 24-36 hours. So, being the stubborn cuss that I am, not wanting to miss out on the opportunity, or wait one more day to meet Coach, that I will have to work very hard to remember our special time at the Seahawks practice. The whole day was surreal. I shook hands with Bobby Wagner. (What? Yep, that happened. He may be my new favorite.) I watched Beast Mode get stretched out right in front of me. He was talking - I saw it. I watched Sherman bounce around from crew to crew. I noticed Russell working on the QB stuff, I could see the smoke drafting from his ears with the laser focus. I chatted with the Seahawks crew, and laughed. I tried to push one of the things that the linemen push, the metal things with the pads that simulate the opponents, and I'm pretty sure I moved it a millimeter. When the practice was over we talked with Coach which was awesome! There's an amazing familial vibe, a camaraderie. Everyone was jovial, but dialed in. I joked about how I wanted so badly to run out there and jump in, to race anyone who was willing, but of course I stayed on the sidelines. We were the only onlookers that weren't part of the team or media. It felt crazy, and profound. I have a deep respect and love for the way that Coach Carroll handles the sport, the players, and life. He practices with the players, running around, sweating like the rest of them. He believes everyone has the chance at greatness, his motto, "Always compete."

The older I get, and especially since I was diagnosed, I don't enjoy competing as much with others (maybe it's because with cancer, we can't all win and it's not our fault - it's often out of our control), but my internal competitiveness has never gone away. It's what helped me strive to learn the alphabet, and talk, and read, and write again. It's how I was able to start walking as soon as possible, aided by Dan, and my friends and family. I always knew I could do better, that I could do more. And I still look to challenge myself (even if it turns into a hysterical near disaster like the recent triathlon). If life was a drink I would gorge myself, while trying to jumprope and cook dinner and garden and read a book and run in circles. I want to do it all as much as I can. But in order to recover from all that madness first, I'll have to get over my seizure fears, and just get some sleep.

The lair.

Wait, what's that? Oh ya, we're here with Pete. 

An O'Carroll family photo. 

My, I can't believe I'm at his press conference face. As he walked away, he jokingly said, "And any further questions to you Dan and Jess?" Ha! Good one Coach. Yep, Pete Carroll knows our names.

The TSA checking the busses, and gear so that the team can just roll up to the plane. They were flying out to St. Luis when we rapped up. Go Hawks!

Germany Again? Excellent!

I'm home; I am resting after flying out to NYC for treatment (yep, what a week). I was able to get my immunotherapy shot, but was also informed that I am dangerously low on my dendritic cells (the part of the white blood cells that boost the immune system and that they use for my treatment). That means I need to head to Germany to engage in an another leukaphresis where they separate my white and red blood cells for harvest. I emailed the clinic just to verify, hoping I could squeak out a few more months before travel, but was graciously informed that it's best to head to Germany ASAP. So, although Dan took off some time for filming, and a few other random days this month, we are hoping that he can take off more time in the next couple of weeks so that he can accompany me for treatment. I kind of see it like a super sexy medical honeymoon. Because there's nothing sexier than life, am I right!?

I'm still on cloud nine from the surprise wedding, and the whirl of my awkward self, filming to share our story. A couple of people have thought I was crazy for being filmed, but I see it as an honor. Our journey has been loud (if you read the blog anyway). It has been hard, and fun, and beautiful, and unexpected, but most of all, it has been an example of following our hearts, of being strong, and true. When we were approached for filming I was hesitant for a little bit, then I thought of the good we could do by sharing what we've gone through. When you get diagnosed with cancer it's like being thrown into a burning ring of fire, and sometimes you can find a way out of the dangerous maze, and sometimes you can't. And it's terrifying. If I wouldn't have explored more than my original option of the neurosurgeon in Wenatchee ("We will put you to sleep and scoop it out."), it is probable that I'd be dead right now - because of the blood clot and dura mater hardening, not to mention the infiltrating nature of the tumor that grew fingers throughout my healthy brain. So much of my healthy brain would be missing - like the controls for my language, and the controls for my physical body. If we wouldn't have researched, and been strategic, and worked tirelessly, it's probable that I wouldn't be alive, or I would be a fraction of the woman I am now.

Why am I alive right now? Why am I not paralyzed any longer on my right side? Why can I read and write and walk and run and research, when originally I couldn't? Why have I been able to overcome so much? Because I am meant to help. I am meant to be a friend to others, to help people navigate and do their best to survive. It is not easy; it's heart breaking. I just received a text today from a brain tumor friend who just found out he is dealing with his second recurrence in less than two years. I want to fix it, but I can't. What I can do is provide solace, and information, and support, and I'm happy to do it. If only I had more power. But the power that I DO have is a voice, and I will broadcast that voice as much as I can to provide information (research, treatments, hope). This cancer life has been a gift of opening my world to amazing people. To immeasurable love and kindness, and at the same time it rips my heart in half. It's bloody and painful, and heart wrenching.

I share my story with the hope that people realize we have choices. That they listen to their hearts, to their intuitions. I hope that people see that in so many things in life we are placed in boxes, on assembly lines (be it treatments, or work, or relationships) but we also have control. That it may be hard, but we can break molds, and surprise ourselves with our own strength.

More of Our Love. I don't want it to end. Ever.

The toasts were beautiful. The love was better than anything I could dreamt of. When my treatment was halted a couple of weeks ago, I panicked and I wrote this, not knowing if I would die. Little did I know that I would have a wedding a few weeks later - a gift from Justin and Sam from Wayfarer - and all of their elfs (although I really want to sneak all of them into my pocket - they have island souls, the kindness.) I write and I often never share - shocking but true, but this is something I wrote and shared at our surprise wedding. I am grateful for life. I am grateful for Dan's love. I am grateful that we have worked so hard that I am still here. This poured out of my heart on the flight home when I was denied a treatment because of bureaucracy. I didn't know if I would be able to continue my treatment and it terrified me. But I am here, and if anyone needs help that that's why I believe I'm alive. I will help you the best I can.

"During my life there have been so many people that have been gracious, that have been patient. That have been forgiving, and supportive. There are all these beautiful souls that have surrounded me, raised me, protected me. They have enveloped me with love, a cocoon. But when I go home, when the lights are low, and real life hits, Dan has always been there. In those dark moments I am never alone. I get engulfing hugs, big bear embraces. He wipes away my tears, then he cries with me. From the incisions and scabs, and staples and bald days, and my original wordless existence. My lack of humor. The stress he has endured from my inability to hold a fork, or walk on my own. The days when I couldn't lift my own arm to shave, and dan would pick me up and put me in the tub. He would shave me, never with disgust, only with kindness and a flirt here or there. I don't know how I have been so blessed, so blessed that he was attracted to me even at my worst. It still surprises me, but I'll tell you what - I don't take it for granted

I wrote a note before Dan and I ever dated and wildly he fit every single dream. Sometimes life is so big that you can't even describe the love in your heart. And that is how I feel about Danny. My Danny. I've never liked the idea of a person "completing" me, but crap, he does. After eight years I still sense him before he walks into the house. I feel him from afar, as does he to me - I thank god, I thank this Earth, I thank the magic that is life, for that. I've never been so loved and I have never loved so deeply. It's weird, and I know that this doesn't happen for everyone, which makes it even more of a gift, that Dan's heart and mine are so connected that it's inseparable.  Linda had no idea about the role that Dan would have in my life. How needed and desired he is. How appreciated. He is my angel. Linda, you gave Dan the gift of life, and that's what Danny gives me everyday. You did that. And I thank you so much." 

Surprise Wedding

I can't believe we pulled this off!! We just threw a "Surprise Wedding" for the most amazing and deserving couple. #tears #bucketlist #mylastdays2 #braincancer #livelikeyouredying #ittakesavilage (literally)

A photo posted by Justin Baldoni (@justinbaldoni) on Aug 15, 2015 at 5:48pm PDT

So Justin Baldoni, and Wayfarer Entertainment just helped me surprise Danny, and my family with a wedding. Everyone thought they were coming for my 35th birthday party, but when they arrived the film crew informed them to please take a seat for our wedding. It's a very long story and it has been incredibly hard for me to keep the secret. It was absolutely unbelievable with all kinds of surprises. Our episode won't air until January or so, and I don't know how much I can divulge, but in the meantime let me just give a few teasers: personalized message and invitation from Pete Carroll (PETE CARROLL!!!!), a gifted Nicole Miller dress from the upcoming 2016 line along with a hand written note, video messages, Vinny's catering, gorgeous flowers, Archie Brooks officiating. Dan and I have been legally married for awhile now but it has been impossible to do a wedding because of our financial responsibilities due to my ongoing medical treatments. The wedding was incredibly small, and I wished I could invite everyone, but Wayfarer hosted it (along with some amazing islanders donating various aspects). It was not our money, so I was just grateful for the opportunity. When people give you gifts you just say thank you, you don't ask to see if you can invite more. It was such a gift, and a beautiful dream that we had always wished for. There were beautiful toasts. There were songs sung, dancing, a little rapping, beautiful toasts, it was hilarious and heartfelt. I can't believe I was able to surprise my parents, Danny, Linda, and all of our guests. It was the most fantastic day!!

The love I have for Danny is the most special thing in my life. I can't wait for the television show to air so that people can celebrate in our love too. They took hours and hours and hours of footage, and I hope I get to see a copy of people's interviews and responses. The whole point of us sharing our story is so that other people can learn from our experience with cancer, that it could help people. 

The crew was absolutely amazing, wonderfully kind. They are kind souls with huge hearts. It was an honor to be chosen for this docu-series, and I hope it really helps people. Wayfarer Entertainment gave me the beautiful wedding, but what was even better is that they helped me keep it a secret to surprise Danny and our parents, and all of our friends. That was a gift that I got to give them. Danny was over the moon, along with our friends and family. It was the most heartfelt evening I've ever experienced. 

And the biggest thanks is to Libbey & Nige for letting us commandeer their new house which they have lived in for only two weeks. Talk about great friends! That was probably the most magical part of the entire day, that we are so loved by our friends. We are the luckiest people on earth to have such generosity and kindness. I'm still reeling from all of the excitement. In fact, it should be sung from the mountain tops how amazing Becki Day is. She is a complete rockstar wedding planner, problem solver, and connector of people. Without Becki Day navigating this event, it absolutely wouldn't have happened. Who in the world plans a wedding in Friday Harbor in early August, the busiest wedding time of the season, in only two weeks?!?! Two weeks! And it was stunning and seamless. I can't say enough about her work ethic and attention to detail. What a treat for us!!  

I'll be sleeping until Wednesday so that I can manage my flight to NYC for my immunotherapy. I'm exhausted. In fact I don't even have a voice, I literally lost it. Hopefully I can rest up and start feeling better within 72 hours. Talking in interviews, emoting and going all the way back to the beginning of this journey to review our trials, was exhausting. 

Okay time to sleep. Love and thanks to all. And I'm so sorry that we couldn't invite everyone. It hurts my heart that we had to keep it small, but sometimes that's the only option when you have such a huge network of friends, and supporters. 

A Film Crew?

Hey Guys! Thank you for all of the birthday comments, texts, and emails, and phone calls, and Facebook messages! You guys all make me feel deeply loved.

On my birthday Dan surprised me by taking me on a bike ride along the Burke Gilman, which I have run but never rode. Riding bikes on the BG is awesome! I's mostly flat and you can literally ride for miles and miles. It's stunning.

But that's not even the biggest news. One part of the big news is that I am flying back to New York next week, the 19th, for an attempt at another immunotherapy shot. It should be fine though, I'm expecting smooth sailing so to speak. 

The next part is that in 24 hours or so, SoulPancake a media/production company ("We create stuff that matters. That opens your heart. That makes you think. Our mission is to help you and your audience figure out what it means to be human and feel damn good doing it. Our brain batter of art, culture, science, philosophy, spirituality, and humor is designed to get people talking, sharing, and engaging with this crazy, exciting, creative journey that is life."), along with WayFarer Entertainment, is sending out a crew to film Danny and I for an episode of a series about people who get diagnosed with cancer. It's kinda crazy, and a huge honor to get to share what we've gone through, and share how we live our lives. My hope is that we can make others feel more comfortable about what they're going through, or have experienced. And that goes for people who have been diagnosed with cancer, and those who haven't. 

We all have hard things that pop up in life, and personal stories always help me, so I'm hoping to inspire others and put them at ease. People often ask me how I've been able to do what I've done (defy odds, find new opportunities health wise to live longer, relearn talking, reading, and moving my body) and all I can think of is how important it has been to be stubborn/strong willed, curious, passionate, easily inspired, and easy to laugh. That combo has been a saving grace. I always say this because there are no guarantees, but this type of cancer, the infiltrating astrocytoma is invasive and virtually impossible to survive solely by conventional methods. And since I'm not as hard core as I once was, there is always the possibility that the cancer is growing inside me. It's a very real, very scary reality. But if I just panic and miss the beauty in life, constantly living in complete fear, then what was the point in life? What was the point of me being on Earth? So I try to keep things in perspective. I try to maintain a balance between enjoying life and maintaining my health; constantly oscillating between two worlds. Sometimes they overlap, but often times it is an exercise in control and depravation. 

I'm nervous for the film crew, but also excited. It's very surreal, and terrifying letting people come into your life, your home, to see exactly who you are, your mannerisms, your quirks. Clearly I've been doing it for awhile, but it's different when I'm doing the blog. With the blog, I have complete control over editing on what I choose to share in my life. In this situation, I don't. I'm also not a fan of watching myself on video (hence the lack of video blogs). I'm an emoter, a sharer, an open book, but I tend to express myself verbally with the written word. I keep reminding myself that this is only through Sunday, and after that it will all be over. So I need to be in the moment, and have fun and enjoy the oddity that will be getting filmed. I will blink and it will be over. But what will last will the memories, and the documentation of when the show airs. That will be a beautiful treasure.

Heaven on Earth

I am embarrassed and relieved to report that my headaches were linked to a hormonal influx. I've never had that happen, I've never had such a horrible response to the female way. I don't know if it's because I'm nearing the end of my fertility (more or less) - or at least the norm of fertility. 

This Thursday I will be 35. 

This Thursday I will have outlived several of my various doctor's expectations on my lifespan. In fack, back in 2011 insurance tried to push me into hospice. According to their calculations I didn't have long to live. 

I've come such a long way, learning how to read and write and walk then run. 

I have enjoyed every single day. It never mattered if I was in a hospital bed, incapacitated in my own bed, or just the daily grind of trying to survive and enjoy life. I feel so grateful to be here. I am overjoyed every day that I wake up. I love life so much that it's hard for me to sleep, I want to soak it up. 

This is not the life that I thought I would live. I never thought I would get diagnosed with cancer at the age of 29, and I never thought - after everything we've gone through - that I would be this capable, and healthy, and happy at 35.  As you guys know, these tumors are aggressive and invasive, and I never know if they'll be back, but good God I cherish this life. Every. Single. Moment. Which is why those debilitating headaches were so terrifying. Everyone has their own views on faith, and God, and afterlife, and truthfully, my views evolve and flux. I have no idea what comes next, but my soul tells me that I'm already living in heaven. That I am living in heaven on Earth. I have Angels surrounding me and loving me, and it's you. It's my friends, and my family, and those who love me. So when I get scared about more surgeries, more treatments, more progression, I will remind myself that I am not alone. 

Progressive Headaches

Yesterday and today, starting in the early afternoon, I have been getting progressive headaches. By the end of the night it hurts so bad that my eyes start watering - just tears streaming down my face. It's on the left hand side, the tumor side, and it throbs in the back, the tumor spot. It hurts so bad. And by the end of the night, like right now, it's on fire. I have no idea why it would progress like this. I'm scared. Has anyone else had anything like it? Especially tumor folks? I wouldn't be so afraid if not for the location. When I push down on the "soft spot" in the back of my skull where the incision starts, it lessons the pain a little. But that spot has always hurt to the touch so I don't know if adding the pain of a new location is just distracting me. 

Please let this not be a recurrence.

Please let this be a fluke. 

Please make it stop.

Nothing helps. Not water. Not asprin. Not anti-inflammatories. None of my supplements. Not rest. I'm lost.

Converting the Baltimorites

Over the weekend Dan and I hosted Jess Abu and her husband Dre. Here are some of the highlights...

Clearly we don't take ourselves that seriously, which I think is why we have so much fun! From Susie's Mopeds, with the protective rainwear jumpsuits, to all the ridiculous sunglasses we found for $2.99, to the electric boats on Lake Union, and everything in between. Jess is still here for a few more days - I wonder what other trouble we can get into?!

Every day is a gift. Every laugh, every memory is just icing on the cake.

Podcast Interview "Living With..."

I had the honor of being interviewed for the podcast, "Living With..." recently. Here is what this iTunes channel is all about (in Tom's own words): 

Description

Living With… is about those living with cancer and other diseases or challenges. It's a community of inspirational people who got some bad news, were dealt a terrible hand, a horrible diagnosis, which changed their lives forever. I have Myelodysplastic Syndrome (MDS), a progressive bone marrow disease which robs the body of its ability to produce blood cells and fight infection. For some reason the body stops making proper blood cells, leaving the body weak and vulnerable. Treatments include blood transfusions, drugs to boost blood cell production, and ultimately bone marrow transplant. My levels have declined considerably. I take drugs to keep my levels from declining even more, but no one knows how long they will work. I get routine blood tests to monitor my levels. I used to be an avid runner and have run several 5k, 10k, half & full marathons. I suffer from lack of energy and fatigue, but I’m able to work and do most things if I pace myself. Now, I am a walker, but I haven’t given up. I miss running, but I’m alive! The Living With Podcast is my way of bringing you interviews with inspirational people who are living with cancer, illness, and other challenges. I feel we can learn a lot from them, be inspired by them and ultimately live more meaningful and fulfilling lives. I hope you will listen to the podcast and will be entertained and inspired!

Here is my interview: https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/living-with...episode-023/id975036684?i=347582559&mt=2

It's a little bit long because, hey, it's me - I was born talking - but you could listen to some, go take care of some stuff, then come back, etc. I had a blast talking with Tom, and it was really fun to listen to his other podcasts and hear other people's stories. It is a privilege to share my story with others. It is a privilege that I am here on this earth. I am humbled that Tom found my story to be one that would be a benefit to the community.