Happy New Year To Me

Dear God, thank you for this birthday. Another year of life is a wonderful present and this new year is full of possibilities. You've removed the shackles of my illness, and I can now choose to order my next steps in so many ways. I can go there. Or there. I can do this,that. Something new. Something better. Something rewarding. Something helpful. Something HUGE. Something great. Thank you for this day - for this new hunger and appreciation. Thank you for my health. For my recovery. Thank you for staying with me. Thank you for my angels. Thank you for hearing prayers. I feel like this day is more significant than I know, a new chapter for me. I'm looking forward to seeing what's in store now that I'm even more aware of your loving-kindness and mercy.  My new year celebration has come early. No need to wait until Jan. 1. Happy New Year!! My faith leaves me to only expect the best. As always, I'm also asking you to continue to protect my friends and family forever and never stop speaking to my heart. (I will work on listening.)

Love,
Maya

Good News All Around

'Lion King' actress Shannon Tavarez to get transplant of umbilical-cord blood for leukemia treatment


BY Lore Croghan

DAILY NEWS STAFF WRITER
Friday, August 13th 2010, 4:00 AM


Shannon Tavarez, an 11-year-old soprano from Bellerose who played Young Nala in the hit Broadway musical, will get a transplant of umbilical-cord blood. It has been used for several years as an alternative to bone marrow for treating leukemia.


"I'm just praying everything works," said mom Odiney Brown. Brown and Shannon's doctors opted for the treatment when a bone-marrow donor couldn't be found for Shannon, who is African-American and Hispanic, two groups that are under-represented in marrow donor registries.


Shannon is undergoing intensive chemotherapy at Steven and Alexandra Cohen Children's Medical Center of New York in New Hyde Park, L.I., to prep for her transplant on Tuesday.


"She's in good spirits. She's singing and playing the piano," her mom said. "She can't wait. She calls this her 'new birthday.'"


The National Cord Blood Program at New York Blood Center found a workable, though not perfect, match for Shannon. Brown said the donor is anonymous.


Meanwhile, bone marrow drives that donor center DKMS Americas has been holding for Shannon will continue Sunday at rapper 50 Cent's community garden in Queens. Fitty registered as a donor and made a video in Shannon's honor.


Read more: https://www.nydailynews.com/ny_local/2010/08/13/2010-08-13_lion_king_cub_to_get_lifesaving_transplant.html#ixzz0wVWU1I2B

So Happy

All I can do is say thank you. I received wonderful news from the doctor today. After two stem cell transplants and 3 or more cycles of chemotherapy, most of my cancer has been wiped out. The official term is "near" complete remission and for my illness, it marks a serious victory. I'm just in awe. I just feel so thankful and blessed - so much more than I can describe here. I don't have the words, so I'll keep this short and sweet. Thank you for all of your prayers. Thank you for all of your support. Thank you for reading. Thank you for caring. I'll keep writing, but I want to make sure I take time out to say thank you. Faith is a powerful thing and a lot of you helped me keep it. God is the ultimate healer and a lot of you helped me stay focused on Him. All I can say is thank you and God is so good.

Back Home

Haven't written in a while. But I'm happy to be home. Feeling better each week. Thanks for all of the prayers and support!

So Much More Than Chemo

I have to be honest. I didn't plan to write about God on this blog. That's not what this was supposed to be about. So who would have thought, six months later, my plot to beat this thing would be such a spiritual journey? A reconnection with faith. A family reunion. A new understanding. A new confidence. A new strength. Who would have thought people who were once strangers days ago would pause their busy lives to stop and unite and pray for me? Who would have thought I'd gain such a burning desire to become a resource, someone who uses her first-hand knowledge with cancer to help comfort and help support other cancer-fighters? (Speaking of that - please keep another cancer fighter, Emma J., in your prayers as well.) Who would have thought I would have first-hand experience with an illness that always seemed so dark and mysterious and sad to me? Who would have thought that dozens of people would call to meditate on the Lord's word through a prayer call set up by a friend I met as a care-free freshman in college? Who would have thought her family would prop me up so wonderfully, claiming victory and offering kindness and support? Who would have thought that my husband would be so unbelievably tall to me - that my head would fit on his shoulders so perfectly? Who would have foreseen a son - a walking, talking, smiling piece of our heart designed to remind us of God's awesome powers and to remind us to fight to no end. Who would have planned for me to be surrounded by Dads when my biggest secret is that I don't know my father? Who would have given me a mother who smothers me with love? Only someone who never wanted me to doubt that I'm special. Who would have kept me healthy for 30 years? Only someone who saw my battle coming and wanted me to be prepared. I just shake my head. It was all part of a master plan. I can't tell you all the ways it's clear to me this victory has already been written. I'd be here all night and I haven't even yet detected it all. All i know is Jeremiah 29:11 is the theme song.  Lord, you made me healthy so that I'd be ready to fight. You gave me family every way you could - through church, through marriage, through friendships - to remind me that I'm not alone and to enhance my strength and to guide me. You gave me a son when I wondered if I could have one. You gave me a Dad when I needed one. You gave me my soul-mate early in life so that our marriage would be well past the appetizer stage and strong enough to handle the entree you had in store for us. There are no voids for me. You gave me people who knew you. Who would have known that it might come in handy for my father in-law, as part of his career, to have first-hand experience with oncology? Who would have thought I would have a pastor that provides such a deep testimony for me? Who would have thought I'd have such a strong mother-in-law who has overcome her own battle - through faith? I like to be in control, but I didn't control this. I like to write, but I couldn't have written this plot. This was written well before I knew it. I'm passively reading and learning. And I'm in awe. I hope I can do it justice when i tell it over and over again. 


I'll try to write from the hospital. I won't be feeling good. So I might not be so upbeat. But I do know I will get better and my plot to beat this thing will continue. It's just not really my plot.  It's my story, my life, my spiritual journey. But God is completely in control. Who else could have authored this? Who else has the literary technique to add in such foreshadowing and irony and symbolism to my life's story? I never set out to pray publicly on a blog. I never set out to search for scriptures as part of my cancer fight. I thought I'd be writing mostly about chemo and side-effects and hair loss. That's part of my story too. But that's not what's on my heart. There's so much more than I knew to this plot. 

A Prayer

Dear God,
I can't sleep. I'm not sure why I went for that afternoon frappuccino. Maybe you wanted me to talk to you this morning. Let me use this perfect pitch-black, morning quiet time to be still and meditate on you. It would be a crime not to start by thanking you for all of the blessings you've bestowed upon me. And it would be even more criminal not to boast about them and share my blessings with whoever will listen - or read. My blessings have been hand-delivered. I know that's true because your fingerprints are all over my life. Your all-power hands are holding me and carrying me. That's the only way I could be feeling the way that I do. I feel better than I have in months. I'm nowhere near 100%. But I'm better. So much better. And I thank you for that. I also thank you for who you are. I thank you for sitting - for actually dwelling - in my heart so that I never have to wonder if you're real or if you're there. You speak to me through other people, constantly showing me goodness and kindness. Knowing you is pure joy - the ultimate gift. I feel you and I hear you and I know you're guiding me. Thanks for allowing me to persevere even in the midst of sadness. Thank you for allowing me to overflow with hope even when ostensibly, there was no way forward. You are my light. Such a beautiful light. I'm humbled by your grace and your mercy and your love. Lord Jesus, my savior, I also come to you to ask you for a complete healing. I know you already know what's on my heart. But by praying to you and praising you and acknowledging that you're the only one that can help me, I know I'm only strengthening my relationship with you through faith. Lord, I am honored to be your daughter. Father's Day is only days away and I'm blessed to know you as the ultimate Father. I'm blessed to be able to see your likeness in the men in my life - the perfect mix of strength and gentle.They constantly strive to be more like you. Still, you're the only father that can help me. I trust you will provide my every need. I know you're the ultimate miracle-maker and healer. I'm asking that you rid me of this awful thing that has hurt me and my family and so many people that I love. I'm asking you to heal me, completely. I'm asking you to hold me close as I go in for chemo - a dose of life-saving poison - later today. I'm asking you to stay with me in the hospital next week to comfort me and to protect me. It's so hard sometimes, Lord. I'm being poisoned in order to live. I'm being stripped so that I can rebound. But I know you are there. And as it says in Proverbs 3:8, I know you will be "health to my navel and marrow to my bones"  - the two things I want most in the world. Please don't allow me to be a source of sadness or pity but a reflection of your grace and mercy. Please help me be a source of inspiration and light and most of all, love. Please teach me how to pray. Please teach me how to praise you. Please help me to give back and to serve. Please continue to rain blessings on my family and the entire network of angels supporting me and helping to lift me up. Please strengthen me so that I can one day thank them and return the love. Please continue to guide me so that I represent you in all that I do. Please continue to be a shield over my family. Please continue to move us toward much happier, sunnier days - away from the dark days of  December when my diagnosis seemed to spell doom. Thank you for enlightening me. Continue to speak to my heart and soul. I'm elated because I see your everyday miracles more clearly now. I love you with all of my heart. Lord I adore you - more now that ever before. Thank you, Jesus. Amen.


Proverbs 3:5-8 Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own
understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths. Be not
wise in thine own eyes: fear the Lord and depart from evil. It shall be health to your navel
and marrow to your bones. Just what a bone marrow cancer patient needs.

June 5, 2010

I'm so grateful. I'm writing to give you an update on what I've been up to recently. The best way to start - really, the only way to start -  is by letting you know how grateful and blessed I am. The past couple of weeks have reminded me of just how important it is to have family and friends. June 5, 2010, in particular, was the best day I've had in a long time. My sister got married in Atlanta. And I was there with family and friends even though just three months ago, I wouldn't have imagined being able to go. That same day, a special group of friends camped out in Maryland to support me in my battle and to raise money for the American Cancer Society.  It was a special day in so many ways. This weekend wasn't so bad either. My husband and I took my son to a nearby beach and a neighbor's ice cream party and then today, we joined a church in the community. Soon, I'll be back in the hospital for a second transplant. But I can't believe how many wonderful experiences God has filled me up with before I go in. I'll be in a hospital bed, but I'll be able to replay fresh images of a wedding, the Chesapeake Bay and our new church home. I'm so thankful. It's not good to have cancer. But at least there's good coming out of it. I am just more thankful of things I used to take for granted. I don't think I could have ever felt this thankful before.

Drugs!

Interesting Wall Street Journal article today on Revlimid, a drug I'll likely start taking at some point later this year. (Info on Revlimid is near the bottom.)

Two Drugs Can Make Cancers Less Fatal

By JENNIFER CORBETT DOOREN And RON WINSLOW

New uses for two established cancer drugs significantly increased the time patients survived without their disease progressing, in studies that provide fresh evidence of how cancer is often becoming a chronic disease.
Researchers said Rituxan, co-marketed in the U.S. by Roche Holding AG's Genentech unit and Biogen Idec Inc., cut the risk of cancer returning in certain lymphoma patients by half when used as a maintenance treatment for two years. In the other report, Celgene Inc.'s Revlimid doubled the number of myeloma patients whose disease remained in remission three years after treatment began, compared with those on placebo.

In many cancers, drugs are stopped after a set round of treatments. In both of these cases, patients were given the drugs for prolonged periods after their disease was initially treated with other regimens. Both studies were stopped ahead of schedule because of the strength of the benefit found during scheduled interim checks of the data.

The Rituxan study involved 1,018 patients who had been diagnosed with stage III or IV follicular lymphoma—a common type of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma—and whose disease was no longer detected after a combination treatment of chemotherapy and Rituxan.
About half of the patients were assigned to continue treatment every other month with Rituxan for two years, while the other half didn't receive the treatment.

The study, led by Gilles Salles, a professor of medicine at the University of Lyon in France, showed that after a median follow-up of 25 months, disease progression occurred in 18% of the Rituxan group, compared with 34% of the control group, which translates into a 50% reduction in the risk of disease recurrence. The findings were released in advance of the American Society of Clinical Oncology's annual meeting in June.
"This study suggests lymphoma, like many human cancers, is a chronic disease and increasingly is likely to require chronic therapy to maintain remission," said George Sledge, ASCO's president-elect and an oncologist at Indiana University School of Medicine.

Patients receiving Rituxan had a higher rate of infections at 37%, compared with 22% in the group of patients who didn't receive Rituxan as maintenance therapy.

Rituxan is currently approved as a treatment for non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, chronic lymphocytic leukemia and rheumatoid arthritis. The product had more than $5 billion in global sales last year, with about half of the sales coming from the U.S. In March, Roche and Biogen Idec filed an application with the U.S. Food and Drug Administration seeking expanded approval of Rituxan as reflected in the study's findings. A spokeswoman for Roche said the wholesale cost of two years of Rituxan treatment is about $47,000.

In the Revlimid study, 614 patients under age 65 who underwent a transplant of their own stem cells to initially treat myeloma were given either a placebo or 25 milligrams of the drug for 21 days in each of the next two months, followed by a lower daily dose of Revlimid.

Michel Attal, a professor of hematology at Purpan Hospital in Toulouse, France, who was a leader of the study, reported that three years after patients were randomized, 68% of those taking Revlimid remained in remission, compared with 35% on placebo.

Overall survival after two years was similar among both groups—88% on the drug versus 80% on placebo. Dr. Attal said he expected a longer follow-up to show that the drug prolonged survival as well. Revlimid, which is approved for multiple myeloma patients in combination with the steroid dexamethasone, and for a rare condition called myelodysplastic syndromes, had revenue of $1.7 billion in 2009.
Dr. Attal serves as a consultant to Celgene; in the Rituxan trial, Dr. Salles reported serving as a consultant to Roche.
Write to Jennifer Corbett Dooren at jennifer.corbett-dooren@dowjones.com and Ron Winslow at ron.winslow@wsj.com

A Plea For Bone Marrow Donors

Praying For Devan

Here's another reason to sign up for the bone marrow registry: a beautiful four-year-old boy in need of a donor. I don't know him, but I received an email about him and his need for a donor. This hurts my heart but I will keep him in my prayers. http://www.matchdevan.com/ If you know someone who could help, please forward the info.

Today

I'm pretty upbeat and decided to write today.  I've spent the last week a little disappointed. Although I'm recovering from my stem cell transplant very well, my doctor gave me what I took as devastating news: he wants me to undergo a second transplant in June to give my disease a one-two punch and give me a better chance of getting to and staying in complete remission. I have to laugh at that. If God doesn't give you more than you can bear, he must think I'm one strong woman. lol. I haven't quite wrapped my mind around going through all of that again. I initially told the doctor I didn't want to do it. And I was serious. Go through another transplant? Yeah right. I told him I'd rather just move forward on chemotherapy. But that was my knee-jerk response. I'm trying to warm up to the idea ... without feeling depressed about it. The absolute last thing I want to do is go through another transplant - I haven't even fully recovered from the first one! At the same time, I'm blessed to have an option presented to me that could further help me fight this battle. I feel like Obama with Afghanistan. I don't want to be fighting this war, and I want to withdraw, but right now maybe the best thing to do is to send in some additional troops. As much as I want to retreat, I also can't end this war prematurely. My life is at stake. I've been reading my bible and I've been praying on the situation. And I'm starting to feel better about it all. I feel as if this is the ultimate lesson in trusting God. For me, agreeing to a second transplant is like diving into the middle of the ocean...in the middle of a storm. I have to trust that God will enable me to swim through the waves and currents and make it back to shore - again. It's about faith and trust and knowing that I can withstand more than I ever knew. It's almost like He is whispering to me, saying, "I want to heal you. Just trust me. Have faith in me." And He's already shown me that as brutal as the transplant is, I can make it through. The more I pray, read the bible and seek his word, the less worried I am. I didn't expect to be feeling this well this early. I thought I'd still be bed-ridden and sick and frail. But that's not the case at all. I'm fine. And in a few weeks, I'll attend my sister's wedding. So I'm focusing on that. I expect the next few weeks to be good and exciting. I'll deal with next month when it's next month and tomorrow when it's tomorrow. Right now, I'm intoxicated with today. Today I was touched by the beautiful stream of support I've received from family, friends, and coworkers. And today I'm encouraged by my son's happy spirit. Today, I'm reminded that this world is good. I'm taking no thought of tomorrow.

(Matthew 6:33-34. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.)

I really have to get back to reading the bible and reading my daily devotional. I honestly haven't picked up my bible in weeks. I prayed in the hospital but didn't feel like reading anything. My mind was too full and crowded with all kinds of thoughts, worries and fears. But I realize I feel so much better when I'm taking time out to read verses and pray and turn my worries over to Him. I gotta get back on track.

Update

I'm still hanging in there. I'm getting stronger but I'm still always nauseas and tired. I'm blessed to be doing this well but I can't wait to feel even more normal. At least my appetite is back. I'm starting to eat more. I have good days where I get out of the house but I also have bad days and on those days, I'm sad and sick and I just want to sleep. It's wild to be starting over like this. The chemo they gave me in the hospital basically wiped out all of my cells. And then they transplanted stem cells into my body to help restart things. My whole body is starting over - my hair, my stomach and most important of all, my blood. And that's what I feel like - like I'm starting over and I'm waiting for my body to recover and remember how to work. So I know it'll take time before my energy level is where I want it to be. It's just hard for me to slow down and be patient - even when I'm sick and have no other choice and even when I have a mom who spoils me every minute of every day. I've never known until now how much of a blessing it is just to have energy - energy to keep up with your kids, energy to work, energy to take care of your family, energy to do whatever it is you want to do. I can't wait to have some energy of my own.

Home Sweet Home

Wow... Ok... Where do I begin? So much has happened over the last two weeks. you missed a lot - sorry! I've been just a little preoccupied. I took this picture yesterday. It was a long, wild day and that's really how the last two weeks have been.  I can't believe I'm home. I had to go numb in that hospital. I can't believe I don't have to walk around with an IV pole. I can't believe I can kiss my son's cheeks on demand. As good as everything went for me in the hospital, it was still difficult - the most challenging 16 days of my life. The walls were closing in on me. I was bored out of my mind. I was sick to my stomach and stuck, stuck, stuck, just laying on a hospital bed in a tiny room. I felt like I had the flu. My throat was on fire. My ears were burning. My body ached. The high-dose chemo immediately made me extremely nauseous. And I was taking tons of medicine around the clock. I had no appetite. Food disgusted me. All I wanted to do was leave. That was the hardest part of it all - convincing myself everyday to think about something else other than wanting to run out of that room as fast as I could - not that I physically could, but I would have tried and wanted to try. My mom and husband were always at the hospital; they took turns sleeping over, so I never felt completely alone. Still, every day, all I wanted was to go home and sleep in my own bed. More than anything, I wanted my son to see me and hug me and know that Mommy's home. I can't say it enough - It's such a blessing to be home. I didn't cry about it all until I got home and I could finally let go. The doctor didn't think I'd be home before Wednesday, but I was discharged Tuesday, just like my mom hoped. And I was home well in time to celebrate her birthday on Thursday.  Of course, I'm still recovering. Yesterday is the perfect example: I had to say bye to my hair. My mom was washing it for me until we both realized that clumps of tangles were coming out. Looking in the bathroom mirror, I panicked for a few minutes. But then we both calmed down and she cut away. And then my husband, who has been my rock through all of this, came in and took over. He shaped me up and told me I was beautiful and perfect. And then we all kept it moving. I'm home and I can't spend too much time mourning my hair. I still have a lot of recovering to do. It's hard to look at myself now but I know it will grow back. And I'm actually looking forward to wearing my hair short and natural. For now, though, I'm keeping it covered (wigs, scarves.) It's not ready for public exposure yet. lol. Meanwhile, My family is helping to keep me focused and happy so I can continue to recover. My cousin is also here, spoiling me and my son. So overall, I feel blessed and surrounded by love and positivity - exactly what I need to continue getting stronger.

Faith

Good morning from the hospital. everything is fine here. i am feeling nice and calm and happy to be moving forward. each month seems to get a little easier. i keep thinking back to december. i kept thinking this was all a nightmare and that I'd wake up soon. everything was a little foggy and i was in disbelief. i kept getting mad at the idea that i could die. its one thing to know you are human and will die one day but a much sadder thing to feel like something is in your body, killing you right now. as positive as i tried to be in those first few weeks, I couldn't control my thoughts, worries and anxiety. a small thought about death was able to spread around in my mind like a wildfire and burn and burn and burn. and it mostly happened in the middle of the night. it'd wake me up and I'd feel sick to my stomach. ive never felt that destroyed and damaged and sad. now, i think i can say i've moved on from that stage of shock. being here reminds me I have things to face and get through and I've got to keep it moving. i've got to progress and strengthen my mind and body as much as I can. im convinced im going to live and not just live, but live a good and happy life. it was a hope in December. now it's faith. after a conversation with my moms on Sunday, i now realize that's a dramatic difference. you need both, but what you need most is faith. my faith is getting even stronger. it grew more on Sunday morning when a pastor and the elders of the church placed their hands on me and prayed over me. When I looked down to close my eyes and pray, I saw my son looking up at me through the layers of arms and he grabbed my hand and stood still until the praying was done. I cried because i was overwhelmed with gratitude and they were also happy tears. I knew then that everything was going to be alright. My son's eyes reminded me of that. i still get down, though, about what my lifestyle will be. chemo and all of its side effects, for instance, might become long-time, uninvited guest of mine even if this transplant is successful. Im still adjusting to that idea but it will be fine. i will just have to adjust, adjust, adjust and keep it moving. i have to adjust my idea of what i wanted my family and career to be. i thought i'd always be juggling 20 things at once and chasing a house full of kids around. but I'll probably slow down a lot and that's not necessarily a bad thing. i've had to go from sprinting on a track that I designed to trying to climb out of a pit that I never saw coming. the blessing is that i fell in with so many tools - prayer, a praying family, a strong, loving husband, a son that needs me and family and friends that remind me that this world is good. i find myself still grieving over the loss of the track that I had designed and worrying about what long-term challenges I'll have to face even once i get out of this pit. But maybe in another 3 months ill overcome the worry as well and get even better at focusing on the day at hand and better at letting go. i have to tell myself what i tell my busy-body son when he's supposed to be picking up his toys but gets distracted and starts instead to play his guitar or drums, putting on a concert. "Focus," I say. (The problem is he repeats it back and for some reason, it always sounds like he's cussing us both out when he says it.) at least i know with all of my heart i'm getting out of this pit alive and well. i might look drastically different. i might think drastically different and I expect bruises and scars. but i will adjust and i will find a new normal and i will move on ... and i will stay happy.

Spring 2011?

Sitting here, enjoying my Friday evening with a glass of wine. Had fun watching Michael Jackson in "This is it" and then watching my son try to play every instrument along with MJ's band. I haven't been working but I'm still saying TGIF. This is going to be a nice, fun spring weekend with the guys. I've been craving the warm weather. My transplant has been rescheduled for the end of the month and my plan is to just have fun until then. The weather is too nice for anything else. Meanwhile, I can't help but daydream about how things will be this time next year...I'm looking forward to it because I'm only expecting the best.

One Day At A Time

Tuesday. March 9, 2010. 8:00 p.m. I haven't written in a few days. I think I'm kinda tired of writing about cancer. It can be depressing. Lol. And today I'm feeling good not down. Spent the sunny day away playing with my son. He has a cold but just like any energetic toddler who won't be stopped by the sniffles, he completely ignored it and kept going. So we played outside in the sun and watched cartoons and ate blueberry pancakes, applesauce and grilled cheese sandwhiches. I'm happy, tired and full. Nice day. My plot to beat this thing? Taking things one day at a time. And today I feel good. So I am good. Knowledge isn't always power. It can also be debilitating. The hardest part about all of this is mental - knowing that I have cancer means my thoughts are on steroids; they're almost always running full force and they're mostly sad and wreaking havoc. I feel like I'm in Galaga, the old arcade game. My goal is to zap the worry and anxiety before they attack my ship and tip my thinking into a dark black hole of sadness and fear. Once you go there, it's hard to bounce back. My goal is to replace worries about the future - concerns about my health, my job, my family -  with the happiness I feel in the present. So far so good, but it's a struggle. Thank God for kids. We're taught to plan out our future and think ahead but my son reminds me how to be young and resilient, and innocent and happy and to live in the moment and keep running and playing no matter what. You should see him smile. Thank God for that smile. I remind myself that right now, I'm happy. I'm with my family. I feel good, and today is a blessing. 

Back In the Chair II

The stories at the clinic can be wild. The guy sitting next to me earlier this week got diagnosed with mutiple myeloma 8 years ago. In addition, he also had severe kidney problems related to the cancer. He got the call in December like me - a time when you really only want to hear about snow men and reindeer and Christmas lights and mistle toe. His call actually came right on Christmas day. He was out hunting with his son and felt fine. He was in his 50's living in Pennsylvania and had had some broken ribs and bone pain. The test results confirmed he had myeloma. The doctor didn't provide many options; gave him only months to live. "There must be something you can do," the guy said, according to what he told me. But the doctor didn't have much to offer. So the guy found a unique clinic in Little Rock, Ark., that specifically focused on myeloma. (I did some digging. He's probably referring to the Myeloma Institute for Research and Therapy. I hadn't heard of it before this week.) The cost to save his life was incredible. He says he spent $110,000 of his on retirement savings to pay for his stay, travel and treatment there. He said he wasn't ready to die and he was going to do whatever it took. His mother in law had been diagnosed with mutiple myeloma a month before he was. She died, though, despite the fact that she also went down to Arkansas. The chemo just didn't work. But this man, who shares my doctor, is alive and grossly defeated the odds. After being in Little Rock, he found out about my doctor and decided to undergo treatment in Baltimore, which is significantly closer to his home in Pennsylvania. He had a stem cell transplant -actually two back to back - and it kept him in remission for 8 years. Unfortunately, the cancer has come back, which is why he was sitting next to me getting "infused." The problem with cancer coming back is that it can become resistant to the old chemo drugs. It also tends to come back stronger. Luckily, there are new drugs our doctor is trying. And he's planning to have another transplant. He's already defeated the odds once. I don't see why it wouldn't happen again. What's interesting is that he's the son of a preacher. He said that while he was in the hospital after the transplant he went into a coma, largely due to his kidney issues. They thought he was gone. All he remembers is a dream in which God came to him and said, "Relax. You don't need any more medicine today. You are fine." He said God gave him the exact names of the drugs the nurses were going to try to give him when he awoke. But God told him he wouldn't need it and to turn the nurses down when they attempted to give it to him. He did. He said he woke up, praising God and attempting to rip away all of the tubes attached to him. He walked out of the hospital the next day feeling as if he had only been dreaming for a night when in fact he had been in a coma for days. What's also interesting is that several people in the area where he lives have been diagnosed with myeloma and other cancers. I'm not working right now, but I'm still a curious journalist and this just doesn't sound right. "We think it has something to do with our area," the guy's wife said. The guy's brother in law was diagnosed with cancer. He tried to get him to go to our doctor but he was reluctant to go to a doctor three-plus hours away. He died. So did another family member. He's even seen patients at other hospitals die after their transplants. He just kept saying how much respect he has for our doctor and how good he is. He said he thought he was too young to get cancer. If he thought he was too young at 50, I know he thought I was ridiculously young at 30. Maybe that's why he felt an urge to tell me his story. He kind of seemed like he was surprised that I was being hooked up just like him. As he told sadder parts of his story, his wife kept things upbeat and said to me, "Your young and strong. You'll be fine." And the guy kept praising our doctor. Our profiles are completely different. He's white, middle-aged and from a small town ... and a stranger. Honestly, I don't even know his name. We never did the whole exchange thing. Just went straight to the point. He opened up to me about deaths in his family and his deepest fears. Not sure I really wanted to hear every detail but overall, I did walk away with a brutally honest picture of what it's like to be thrown in a cancer battle and survive year after year. He's back in the chair 8 years later. But I'm not worried for him.    

Back In the Chair

It's Tuesday. Feb. 23. 6:30 pm. I'm sitting in the clinic with my husband, reading a magazine, getting a dose of chemotherapy through an IV line. I have nothing but time so figured I'd just start writing whatever comes to mind. Chemotherapy is a test of patience. It sluggishly drips from the bag, falls into  a long, narrow tube and then flows into the catheter in my chest. It takes hours to complete a dose. I never thought I'd be here at a cancer clinic - especially not now, right when I was hoping to build our family and my career. I feel like we were just getting comfortable with the direction of things. And then suddenly, boom, cancer. I've been here at the "infusion center" for more than 6 hours. And at least another hour to go. Starting to feel the medicine.  I don't feel nauseous so maybe the anti-nausea medicine is working. But I'm drowsy. My joints are stiffening. And I'm so dry all of a sudden. Almost immediately, my lips have become chapped and cracked. My hands too. I'm drinking tons of water to stay hydrated and to help prevent the chemo drugs from harming my uterus and kidneys. "Drink lots of water and empty your bladder frequently," the nurse warns, reminding me of how toxic this stuff is that's dripping into my veins. I didn't expect to be here today. I was supposed to be starting my stem cell transplant but somehow the stem cells they collected from me are contaminated. Go figure. Contamination only happens 1% of the time. This is exactly why I have no respect for probability. Just because something is not likely doesn't mean its impossible. Now that I have a rare cancer, I don't feel any comfort from statistics that show that something is unlikely. Unlikely happens! I feel like I need a T-shirt with just that on it.  Its unlikely that I'd have plasma cell leukemia. In fact, those were the words of one of my doctors before my diagnosis. He said: "You need a bone marrow biopsy today because you could have multiple myeloma, a very rare blood cancer." But he added that "It would be highly unusual if you actually have it." And for some reason that kinda comforted me. Well, let's just say "highly unusual" has happened. Not only do I have multiple myeloma but I have it in a flavor called plasma cell leukemia, which is even more aggressive. Fast forward a couple of months to this week.  It was unlikely that my stem cells would be contaminated. But that's what happened. To have to switch gears mentally and come back to this chair in this clinic waiting for this IV to finish is upsetting. But slowly, I'm starting to think, or hope, that maybe there's a reason and this is all part of the plan. My friends tell me that a setback is a setup for success. So I'm searching for the positive...My doctor today told me that while they are trying to determine the next step for me, it makes sense for me to be in this chair, starting up another cycle of chemo.  The thought at first made me sick. Just like the transplant, I don't want chemo but I know I need it. The mental conflict is nauseating. They don't have pills for this kind of nausea. But I'm still searching for a positive to all of this. My doctor did note that I'm responding well to treatment. The cancer-related proteins in my blood are falling. If the numbers got to zero, I'd be in complete remission.  Maybe I'm back in this infusion center because God wanted to rid me of more cancer before proceeding with the transplant. I don't know. Either way, I'm still certain I will be okay. My cancer is lethal. The statistics are scary. But the good thing about knowing the unlikely happens is that I know the unlikely can happen for good as well. I know there's a solid reason to keep the faith. The unlikely happens! T-shirts coming soon.

Transplant postponed. Just got the word on Friday, just days before I was planning to go to the hospital. I was packed and getting ready but now things have to be rescheduled. The stem cells the hospital collected from me last week may be contaminated. It'll take more tests for them to know for sure. Right now, I'm just on hold.... 

Psalm 91

This is wild. I was cleaning up, listening to my Ipod - to that Richard Smallwood song I just wrote about in the last blog post, and I stumbled across a daily devotional that I haven't started reading yet. A church in Pennsylvania sent it to me after a friend mentioned my situation to her college buddy who is the associate pastor there. Well, I got curious and opened it up to give a look at what today's scripture is. And Guess what it's about - Angels. I couldn't make this stuff up if I wanted to. This is more than a coincidence. I feel moved to share. I guess I just stumbled upon my scripture of the day: Psalm 91: 11 - 12. For he will command his angels concerning you to guard  you in all your ways. On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone. 

Angels

This song gets me every time. My parents use to play this Richard Smallwood CD out, blasting it in the car on the way to church. It's touched me since I was little. I'm so blessed to have been raised by parents that gave me a strong foundation in the church - a strong, Georgia baptist church at that, the kind in which you had no choice but to absorb and soak up the pastor's message because they would scream it, sing it and shout it the whole service. You would leave feeling exhausted. Some folks don't need all that shouting, but I'm grateful because when you're 9 and you think you'd rather be at home in your PJs watching TV with a bowl of cheerios, you need somebody to shout a message until you finally get it and understand it and can carry it with you over the years. My pastor didn't shout for nothing. He could speak quietly. He could whisper as he told a story. But when he was making his point, rest assure he was going to let out a shout or two. I have a lot of growing to do spiritually, on my own. I need to make room for what I'll call be-still time to meditate on the bible and my own personal relationship with God. I  need to learn the bible. I'm actually excited to see how far I can grow. I think this is what I'm supposed to do as I fight this illness and recover. But at least I am starting with a strong foundation and a heart that's acutely aware of God's love and healing powers... and at least I have this song to remind me that "unseen hands are guiding me through my storm." I might vent every now and then but honestly, I have no worries.

Interesting article in today's Washington Post about a woman who needs a lung transplant but was reluctant to have a necessary blood transfusion due to religious reasons: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/02/16/AR2010021606057.html?hpid=topnews.

Just when I'm trying to feel down and sulk a bit something lifts me up. I just got word today that I won a journalism award at work for a story I did this time last year on the government's financial bailout. A nice little unexpected pick me up. The blessings keep flowing.

Gorgeous and Bald: Pics of Brandi Maxiell - (NBA player's wife)

Basketball Wives

I was watching E! today when a documentary called Basketball Wives came on. Pretty interesting. I focused in on Brandi Maxiell. She just married her high school sweetheart Detroit Pistons player Jason Maxiell. Brandi had ovarian cancer and lost her hair while undergoing treatment in 2007. Jason shaved his hair bald too as a way to make her feel better about her hair loss. Sweet!  

Countdown

Heading to the hospital in six days. 6 days! And I can't stop thinking about it. It's like there's a clock ticking in my head, distracting me from thinking about anything else. I could be in the hospital for weeks. I'm hoping not more than three. My son isn't allowed to visit, and I've never gone that long without seeing him. I'm trying not to get anxious but  this whole transplant thing is a little frightening. I don't even feel like going into the scary details because I know everything will be fine. Everything so far has been fine. And I'm strong enough to handle this. I keep reminding myself of that. This is the meat and potatoes of my treatment. I need this and I will get through this. This is what I need to move on with my life. It's just daunting to know that it'll have to lose so much to get there. My mind won't stop running. Hair. My immune system. Both will be wiped out this time next week. I'll be tired and sick. Stuck in bed. No son. No hair. No energy.  Fragile. It'll take 3 months for me to recover at home. 3 months!!!  Vomiting. Nausea. Wearing a mask to prevent infections. And no hair??!!! This is when the Why Me's creep in.

Snowblivion

What a week. Despite the historic "Snowblivion" here in the D.C. area, I made it to the cancer center in Baltimore not just once, but twice, for two critical procedures. And now my doctors have collected enough of my stem cells to move on with the transplant at the end of the month. This is yet another blessing - mainly because it took a lot to get to the point in which my doctors could collect my stem cells. I got a super dose of chemotherapy last week that made me sick to my stomach. I also had to start injecting myself with a special medicine, and I had a catheter placed in my chest. Each of these steps had to be done within a strict timeline. So if the blizzards and icy roads had prevented me from getting to Bmore this week, I would have had to redo most of those steps and probably postpone the transplant. That would have been crushing and a huge setback. But thanks to two dear friends ... (and their white, magical, Hummer,) I made it to Baltimore on Monday in the aftermath of one of the worst snow storms ever for the DC area. Other people could barely walk down their driveways, let alone drive anywhere. That night, my moms - my mom and my husband's mom - made it in town after several cancelled flights. The next day, they took care of my son, while my husband and I hit the snowy roads again so that I could have my stem cells collected. To collect the cells, I was hooked up to a machine that withdrew my blood. The procedure is painless. I just laid on a hospital bed. But it can take two days for the technicians to successfully collect enough cells. Our goal, however, was to try to be home before the second blizzard got underway. We only had hours, not two days. We were able to leave the hospital around 4, right as the flurries started to come down. Soon after, we got good news from the hospital: in that one day, they collected twice as many stem cells as they had expected. Looking at all of the snow outside now, I smile with comfort because I can't believe I'm still on track for my transplant. I can't believe I made my appointments.... I can't believe I'm here, relaxing, spending time with my moms - cooking, laughing, talking. Things could have easily been derailed for me. But that wasn't the case, largely due to friends, family .. and that big, white magical Hummer.... And I'm still not sure how my moms made it here in all this snow.... And I can't believe I have such peace. I have cancer. I'm not supposed to feel this happy...I just smile and shake my head. What a week.

Swiss Chard, Anyone?

Had Swiss Chard for the first time a couple of weeks ago and meant to write a post. It was high on my list of new veggies to try, especially because they remind of collard greens. According to "Cancer-Fighting Kitchen" Author Rebecca Katz, swiss chard is a powerful cancer-fighting food. She says Betalain, a pigment in Swiss chard is also being studied for potential anticancer properties. Some experts believe certain foods - mainly vegetables - make your body less hospitable to cancer, while others, such as white flour and sugar help it thrive. All I know is swiss chard was tasty and quick. I simmered some olive oil, garlic and onions in a pan and threw in the chard and some Worcestershire sauce and a bit of cumin. Ready in no time. And then for dessert, I had ... ice cream. But at least I coated my stomach with that "Betalain" stuff first. Sigh. Baby steps.

Charm City

Up early again. Body is tired, but my mind is racing. So will spend some time counting blessings. Always helps. I think I'm on blessing #6. And since Baltimore is on my mind, that's what I'll write about, mainly because it's just a sign that this journey is bigger than me. I was born there. Decades later, God has led me back for life-saving treatment, so that I can heal and continue to live a wonderful life. I think that's by design. Riding into Baltimore for treatment reiterates how this whole journey is bigger than me, how there is a plan for each one of us. Despite its troubled schools and notorious crime, I've always had a fondness for "Charm City." Now, I greet this town as the place God has chosen for not only my birth, but for my healing. There's something to that. When I got my diagnosis, the doctor referred to my current oncologist in Baltimore, praising him as one of the best in the world for treating multiple myeloma/plasma cell leukemia. Not many cancer doctors have seen patients with myeloma because it's so rare. But up the road, just about 40 minutes from my house, I'm not so rare. And that's truly a blessing.

After spending 10 hours in Baltimore for a super-dose of chemo, this picture sums up how i feel. Intoxicated. Drunk. Super-Drowsy and Silly. So I'm hitting the sack...after American Idol.

What I'm Reading Now

I hadn't seen the clip of Robin Roberts ditching her wig during her cancer battle. So dug it up and here it is:  http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/BeautySecrets/story?id=4694536&page=1

And another: http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/OnCallPlusBreastCancerCommunity/story?id=3869529

Here's a profile and short video of a 26-year-old Nigerian-born athlete who is battling cancer and working to get more African-Americans to sign up for the bone marrow registery. All it takes is a cotton swab, folks. I never knew that.

http://www.thegrio.com/black-history/thegrios-100/thegrios-100-seun-adebiyi.php

And here's a link to his blog: http://nigeria2014.wordpress.com/2010/01/

He just graduated from Yale Law School and is working to become, in 2014, the first Nigerian delegate to compete in the Winter Olympics, all while battling  stem cell leukemia and lymphoblastic lymphoma. Also, he went back to Nigeria to help get more people to sign up for the bone marrow registery.Whew,  makes me feel lazy. I only have one cancer to beat and I fret over that. I'm taking notes, though. I like the way he sets long-term goals despite the obstacles he's facing currently.  

More old hair pics. Already reminiscing. I'll probably aim to return to more natural styles rather than getting it pressed. We'll see ...

Relay For Life

One of my best friends is organizing a team for The American Cancer Society Relay For Life in Maryland in June. It's an event that gives everyone a chance to celebrate the lives of people who are have or are battling cancer - whether through a monetary gift or actually participating in the relay.  Check out this link about our team, Team Victory!: http://main.acsevents.org/goto/teamvictory

Hair

I have a few weeks to say goodbye to my hair. During my transplant or shortly after, it'll most likely be gone. Makes me anxious just thinking about it. Right now, I just pull it in a bun. It's thinning, but it's still here. In a few weeks, that won't be the case. So I need to start searching for headscarves, hats and maybe do some more wig-shopping ( I got a gorgeous one with my mom but still haven't worn it. But the time is a comin. I might also look for a shorter one so I have options.) It seems frivolous and shallow to worry about my appearance when my focus is on beating cancer. But I do. As a woman who never expected to be dealing with cancer 3 months after her 30th birthday, all of the changes I'm going through are hard. When you look sick, I think it's easier to feel sick.When  my sisters and I were younger, we had tons of long, thick hair. It would take a whole Saturday for my mom to wash our hair, comb out the maze of tangles, blow dry it and plait it. We were all ready to take a nap afterward. For boys, everything's different. My brother would get to play outside while my tender-headed youngest sister who hated getting her hair combed sat in front of my mom screaming at the thought of the comb touching her long, wavy red hair. So there are memories there.We even had a barrette bag full of all kinds of scrunchies, headbands and barrettes for all us all to share. I've always appreciated my hair. And I've always experimented with it. I've rocked an ultra-short natural style; a wanna-be Halley Berry cut; twists; and in high school, an asymmetrical bob. And right after college, I even thought about dread locks. Right before my diagnoses, I went to a salon regularly to get it straightened. And so it appeared thin and straight and easy to manage. But my hair's natural texture is actually curly and thick and pretty strong. Every now and then, I used to try to shock my husband by washing my hair and blow drying it and combing it out into a huge Afro. He'd laugh but he always complimented me when he saw my hair in its most natural state. Now, I'm getting prepared to start over. Part of me is saying Bring it On. And the other part just hopes I'm okay with the new, temporary me. It would make things so much easier. Lord knows I don't want to spend more time than I need to focused on how I look.

Blessings

I'm up early this Saturday morning. Went to Baltimore for another treatment yesterday. And as usual, the drugs leave me with a tired body but a mind that just won't stop running. Ultimately, my mind usually wins, so I've decided to get up and write or read or do something to keep it happy. Today, I figured I'd count my blessings, in no particular order.

Blessing #1:  My family. My husband. My son. It's such a blessing that I met my husband pretty early (we were freshmen in college) and that we got married kinda early (at 24). And that we had our son. This would be so much harder without them. It's another sign that God has a plan and things happen that you don't even realize are blessings until you're later blessed with new information that helps put things in perspective. I didn't think I could be even more grateful for my marriage and the birth of my son. But I am. I'm so much more thankful. On top of that, we have parents and brothers and sisters on both sides of our families who are all truly special people who have helped us in so many ways. Trips to D.C. Donations to the American Cancer Society. Books. Bible verses. Prayers. The list goes on. But, as I keep saying, the biggest blessing is just being able to take comfort in the fact that people are pulling for us and praying for us and there to help us through whatever we may need.

Blessing #2. An extraordinarily strong group of friends and co-workers. Between my family and my close friends, I have what I like to call "an army of angels." who have been a great support. Friends have sent all kinds of cards, books, and advice. They've organized prayer calls that have included people all across the country who just want to help make sure I have the comfort and peace of mind I need to get through this thing. And nothing about any of the people in this army is normal. They're all extraordinary and special, and I'm lucky to know them. 

Blessing #3. My job. My husband's job. Our house. Our car. Health insurance.

Blessing #4. My relationship with God. I got baptized in Atlanta. I guess I was 9 or 10 and it wasn't like they just sprinkled some water on my head. My pastor asked, "Do you accept Jesus as your personal savior?" My sisters and I said yes. And then they actually dunked us under water, in a pool inside the church. We came up with water running down our face, were handed towels, and then, everybody clapped and said, "Amen." I think we got cookies or something afterward. I've always felt God and had a desire to be closer to him. On days, we didn't go to church, I would make my little sisters sit down in my room as I tried to lead a  Sunday school class. All I knew was the 23rd Psalm. The Lord is my shepherd ... But the fact that I like Psalm 23 and know it is also a blessing because there's so much in there about my current situation - specifically, the part about God making you lay down in green pastures. I think God wants me to be at peace and to grow closer to him and sometimes you have to slow down to really become stronger. I might not have done it on my own. Now, I'm trying to become more familiar with the bible. It's hard and it might take me a while to really feel like I understand it. But I feel so much better reading it and studying it in ways I didn't really do before.

Blessing #5. A strong body. I have a horrible illness but I feel healthy. It doesn't seem like the two go together. How can you be sick and healthy? Well, first of all, I don't really think of myself as sick. I have cancer, a horrible disease, but I'll probably never say, "I am sick." For me, that phrase conjures up a picture of me weak and tired, in bed, unable to move. In my eyes, that's not what I am. That's not how I feel now and I'm careful about what I call myself. I have an illness, but I don't feel so sick. Now, while I'm in the hospital for my stem cell transplant, that's another story. I'll feel sicker than I've ever felt in my life. I'll be sick for weeks -actually, months. But I will get better. Some people have other gripes. For instance, they don't like to be called cancer patients. I don't mind that. I am that. But something about describing myself as sick in the midst of my battle to beat this thing seems counterproductive. And I'm so much more than sick. I am happy. I am strong. I am blessed. I am hopeful. Maybe if I put "I am sick" way, WAY down at the bottom of the list about what I am, I'd be okay with it. But it's definitely not the first way to describe me. Plus, I still have a lot to do, whether I have cancer or not.

Cancer hasn't slowed  me down as much as I thought. I might not be able to run even a mile. But I'm still able to run away from my toddler when he decides to throw on a blanket and turn into this "dragon-monster" and threaten me with a magic stick.

Another Bone Marrow Test Behind Me ... literally

That's me yesterday on the way to get another bone marrow test. I was smiling, trying to take a quick pic before I left the house for Baltimore. But really, I was so anxious. The last bone marrow biopsy didn't go so well. The doc stuck me three times because he couldn't get a good sample. I was curled up in a ball with my back to the doctor and my face to the wall. I just sucked it up, held still, and cried silently. But it was very painful. I'm happy to say that this time around it wasn't so bad. I almost cried afterward because I was so relieved. It was nothing like the first one. I felt some stinging, but it was pretty quick and manageable. And that's good news. Because I'm sure more are in my future.

Ok. I think I'm addicted to cancer books. I know. It's so not sexy. But it's true. I can't put them down. I've set up a little haven in my room. I have candles on my desk, my prayer shawl on the back of my chair (a church group made it for me as they prayed. love it!), and a stack of books full of stories about cancer survivors and tips for beating cancer and information on chemotherapy. It's comforting. And when I get a new cancer book in the mail, I get giddy, hoping there's some tidbit of advice or data that helps me in some way. Having books around me just makes me feel better. Maybe it's because I'm realizing that cancer is way too common and as a reporter, I naturally want to learn as much as I can about this disease and serve as a resource to others. This thing has to be stopped. Is it our diet? the chemicals we use? our stressful lives? What's causing this thing? Who knows. But reading makes me feel a little better about it all. I guess I'm just trying to make sense of it all.

Anticancer Foods

Growing up, I always wanted to be a doctor. I was always very interested in reading about nutrition and health even if I didn't follow all the rules. I even majored in biology in college. But with the help of an intense and dreadful chemistry class, I later decided I wanted to be a journalist more than I wanted to go to med school. Now, though, I have an excuse to really study up on nutrition. Even though I already have cancer, there are so many kinds of fruits and vegetables I should eat more of to boost the efficacy of my treatments and to keep the cancer cells at bay once I get better. Last week, I received a book called Cancer-Fighting Kitchen. It's got me amped up about eating more oatmeal and vegetables and fresh guacamole and bean soups. I'm also ready to experiment with more herbs and spices. Based on what I've read so far, here are some foods I'm going to try to eat more of (in addition to drinking tons and tons of water to flush out the chemo toxins from my body):

Fruit: Apples, Strawberries, Bananas, Blueberries, Tomatoes, Cantaloupe, Cranberries, Cherries, Limes, Oranges, Papaya, Pineapple, Raisins, Coconut Milk, Mango

Beans, Chickpeas, Brown rice

Nuts and Oils: Walnuts, Almonds, Olive Oil

Dairy: Plain yogurt

Veggies: Celery, Carrots, Onion, Potatoes, Asparagus, Broccoli, Corn, Kale, Leeks, Mushrooms, Spinach, Bell Pepper

Herbs and Spices: Basil, Bay Leaf, Black Pepper, Cardamom, Cayenne, Chili flakes, Cilantro, Coriander, Cinnamon, Cloves, Cumin, Garlic, Mint, Nutmeg, Oregano, Parsley, Rosemary, Saffron, Lemongrass, Sage, Thyme, Tumeric, Sea Salt (more minerals than regular salt.)

Sweets: Chocolate, agave nectar, honey, Maple Syrup Grade B

Fish: Halibut, Salmon

Meanwhile, I just read the introduction to another book called Anticancer. It's already reminding me to back off the white flour and white sugar. It points out that a recent study by the World Cancer Research Fund found that at least 40% of cancers can be prevented by simple changes in nutrition and physical activity. I've tried to eat pretty healthy over the years and I don't think my bone disease has that much to do with nutrition. But as a southern girl, I do occasionally enjoy fried chicken and macaroni and cheese and cakes and pies. And here's some southern honesty: I'm not planning to completely cut those out of my diet. What I will do, though, is hold on to those things in moderation while working to make sure the majority of the food I eat is healthy food. I was already trying to work on that and now I have a really good excuse to stay on that path.

No Green Tea For Me :(

This is an interesting article from www.newscientist.com:


Green tea supplements stop cancer drug working
06 February 2009 by Rachel Nowak

Green tea enjoys a positive association with health, so it's not surprising that many cancer patients drink it or take green tea supplements. But that may not be wise if you are being treated for certain types of blood cancer with bortezomib, which is sold under the brand name Velcade.

Chemicals in green tea called polyphenols - and in particular a potent and abundant one referred to as EGCG - can inactivate the drug, according to a new study.

"We saw 100% inactivation of Velcade at levels easily achieved by patients who take green tea supplements, and possibly those who drink large amounts of tea," says cancer biologist Axel Schönthal of the University of Southern California in Los Angeles, who led the study.

Supplement capsules

Green tea supplements are available in health food stores in the US in capsules containing up to 50 times as much polyphenol as a single cup of tea. They have already been blamed in liver and kidney damage.

Velcade is used to treat multiple myeloma, the second most common blood cancer. It kills cancer cells through a process called apoptosis.

Hoping to discover possible beneficial effects of green tea on cancer treatments, the Schönthal team treated mice with human multiple myeloma tumours with different combinations of EGCG and Velcade. To their surprise, tumour apoptosis was blocked rather than enhanced in mice that were given Velcade and EGCG together.

EGCG concentrations of 2 to 5 micromoles per litre - typical of blood levels in people who take supplements - also totally blocked Velcade's ability to kill multiple myeloma cells in lab dishes.

Drug blocked

When the team analysed the biochemical interaction between the two compounds they discovered that EGCG interacts with a boronic acid unit, which forms part of the Velcade molecule, preventing the drug binding to its target in the cancer cell. No other approved cancer drug contains a similar chemical unit, but several that are under investigation do contain it, says Schönthal.

"It's really nice work. But green tea as a drink is clearly different to a supplement where any potentially adverse effects will be magnified, so it may be overkill to tell people not to drink green tea, at least in moderation," says blood cancer researcher Simon Harrison of the Peter MacCallum Cancer Centre in Melbourne, Australia.

The finding may help explain why Velcade is ineffective in roughly one-third of patients, a peculiarity that in the UK has led to a novel funding scheme in which health agencies only pay for the expensive treatment when it works.

"It's speculation but perhaps the therapeutic efficacy of Velcade would have been higher if all the patients had abstained from green tea," says Schönthal.

He also suggests that patients on Velcade who take a green tea supplement may find that it reduces the drug's side effects, such as extreme fatigue. This might encourage them to continue take the supplement, when in fact the side effects might be less marked only because the drug is not working.

Journal reference: Blood, DOI: 10.1182/blood-2008-07-171389

The Power of Writing

An old but interesting NYT story about how writing seems to help cancer patients. I can definitely relate to the quote in the last line:


FEBRUARY 26, 2008, 3:50 PM
The Power of Words for Cancer Patients

By TARA PARKER-POPE
Keeping a journal may improve the lives of cancer patients. (Angel Franco/The New York Times)
When my mother was first diagnosed with cancer, she did something she had never done before. She started to write down her feelings.

My mother had always been too busy for something she felt was as indulgent as keeping a journal, but in the early days of her cancer diagnosis, she found that writing down her thoughts helped her cope with the prospect of dying.

This month, a medical journal confirms what many cancer patients intuitively know. Expressive writing, which involves writing down your deepest thoughts and feelings, may improve the quality of life for cancer patients, according to a new report in The Oncologist.

Previous research conducted in controlled laboratory experiments has suggested that expressive writing helps physical and psychological well-being. However, the recent study was a real-world experiment, conducted in the waiting rooms of an oncology practice.

Researchers from the Lombardi Comprehensive Cancer Center in Washington, D.C., studied the effects of expressive writing on 71 adults with leukemia or lymphoma who journaled their thoughts while waiting for their regular oncology appointments. The patients were asked to write their thoughts in answer to the question: How has cancer changed you, and how do you feel about those changes?

After the writing assignment, about half of the cancer patients said the exercise had changed their thinking about their illness, while 35 percent reported that writing changed the way they felt about their illness. Three weeks after the writing exercise, the effect had been maintained. Writing had the biggest impact on patients who were younger and recently diagnosed. While a change in the way a patient thinks or feels about a disease may not sound like much, the findings showed that the brief writing exercise led to improved quality of life.

“Thoughts and feelings, or the cognitive processing and emotions related to cancer, are key writing elements associated with health benefits,” said Nancy P. Morgan, director of the center’s Arts and Humanities Program. “Writing about only the facts has shown no benefit.”

The researchers also analyzed the content of the patient writings. Most of the patients noted that cancer had been life-changing. Many patients wrote that the changes were positive ones and that cancer had altered their views about family, spirituality, work and the future. One patient wrote: “Don’t get me wrong, cancer isn’t a gift, it just showed me what the gifts in my life are.”

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Special Picture

Every time I get down, something happens to remind me of my blessings. I get anxious about starting another round of chemo, and then I receive a picture of my husband and me with President Barack Obama and the first lady. As a reporter in D.C., it's easy to take things for granted. For instance, I didn't get excited the first time I was in the Oval Office because I was scrambling, trying to take notes and trying to make sure my recorder was working. But being at the White House for a holiday party the night before starting my first round of chemo easily stands out as something special, and seeing the picture that captures it all helps put me at ease. I wasn't distracted by work. I was on a very special date with my husband, listening to jazz and eating seafood, sushi (Can you believe the Obama's had sushi at their holiday party? It was good, though.) and cookies (which we brought back home for our son). I was weak and anemic and didn't think I'd feel like pulling myself together. But I'm so glad it worked out. It was a blessing to have that kind of access to the president even if the moment lasted about 2 minutes - just enough time to take the picture and for me to point out that my husband is also from Chi-town. Woops, did I say Chi-town? I meant to say Naperville. I might have told a white lie to the president. It was also a blessing to have some much-needed one-on-one time with my husband before starting treatment. It was definitely a date to remember. It was also a blessing to be able to pray with friends and family last night before heading to Baltimore for treatment this morning. Yesterday, I was starting to feel overwhelmed. Today, I feel refreshed.

March 1

It's only been one month since my diagnosis, but it feels like forever. Today, I'm a little anxious as I try to digest all of the steps I need to take over the next few months. I'm on track to go to the hospital for my stem cell transplant on March 1. But there are a lot of steps I need to take between now and then before I get to that point. There are more tests, more drugs, more procedures. It's a little overwhelming. As I take in what's going on, I don't really ask, "Why Me?" But I do ask, "Why Cancer." More specifically, I ask: "Why this kind of cancer?" Plasma cell leukemia??!? It accounts for less than 1% of all cancers. Chemotherapy has proven insufficient for this kind of disease which is why my transplant is so important. "How?" is probably the most common question that pops in my head. "How did I get this?" But I don't have the energy to really try to come up with ideas. At this point, I don't even really care. I gotta focus on treatment and moving forward, not on what got me here. I'm still very upbeat about the final outcome. And I know I'll beat this thing. At the same time, the reality of what I have to do is starting to settle in. And I have no choice, no control. Nobody asked me if I wanted to fight this battle. Even after the transplant, I have two months of recovery and more tests and more treatment. Okay, I'm done complaining. Just needed to vent. Let Go and Let God? That's what I'll try to work on.