Two Weeks & Two Days

Two weeks and two days. That is how long it has been since I was supposed to post another blog post. It has also been the same amount of time since I had my final PET scan. During cancer treatment a PET scan is performed in the very beginning, to determine which stage the cancer is at; about two months in to your treatment plan to see if everything is working and then 6-8 weeks after you finish your treatment to see if you’re in remission. I had my final PET scan and I am not in remission.

I have had two weeks and two days to think about how six months of chemotherapy didn’t work. To think about how I was constantly nauseated and constipated in a viscous cycle where one drug to help one side effect only enhances the intensity of the other. To think about how physically painful getting stuck with a needle up to three times every other week was utterly useless. To think about all the days I spent in bed because I was too sick to do anything more than walk to the bathroom, all the months I spent eating nothing but white rice and Cheerios. And for what? To have to go through it all again?! To still be sick and worst of all, still be in the cloud of depression that has settled over me like a thick, heavy fog in the San Francisco Bay.

I had so many ideas and plans, not just for the blog posts I missed but for my life. I couldn’t wait to start exercising in a serious way, I was setting up career building blocks and so much more. But now, all I can think about is how bitter I am towards my body, this disease and everything I went through since the second day of 2020.

Now I have two options: I can go through another aggressive treatment where I will lose all my hair again, barely be able to get out of bed and constantly feel bloated from not being able to go to the bathroom or I can attempt a clinical trial. The trial is different because it is a “targeted approach” and the treatment time length is considered indefinite. The trial has two parts where every three weeks I get one drug intravenously (as opposed to the four I was receiving in my ABVD regimen) and a pill I must take every day. The goal of both routes is to get me into a place of remission so that I can have a stem cell transplant. A stem cell transplant is the only way to a cure. Remission does not mean cure so, if I chose to just be in remission with the clinical trial that would mean I would need to take that chemotherapy pill every day for the rest of my life. In other words, indefinitely.

Now let’s take a moment to talk about ABVD. ABVD stands for the four drugs you receive intravenously: Adriamycin (also known as doxorubicin), Bleomycin, Vinblastine, and Dacarbazine. Bleomycin is THE most harmful drug in the pack. Not only does it cause all the aforementioned side effects but if given to patients for too long it is known to cause irreversible lung damage. How long is too long you ask? I was only given Bleomycin four times because any more than that and you’re dipping your toes in the possible lung damage water. Next up is Adriamycin (or Doxorubicin) a.k.a. The Red Devil. The Red Devil received its moniker from its deep red hue and harmful side effects. My nurse had to inject the drug via a syringe very slowly because if any of the drug gets onto your skin it can burn through your skin. That’s what they were putting into my body for six months and it didn’t work.

I don’t want chemotherapy. I did it the first time because I was assured of the success rate and because I love Rob. He begged me to try chemo one time and said if, if the treatment plan didn’t work I could choose which ever path, life or death, I want to go down. I have had two weeks and two days to decide what to do, time is of the essence. Let’s say I go through another aggressive treatment plan and it doesn’t work. I don’t have much fight left, cancer is a very tough battle but the day to day with chemotherapy is even harder. Let’s say I go through with the clinical trial, that means either a pill every day for the rest of my life or a stem cell transplant which includes a three week stint in the hospital; one for aggressive chemo before the surgery and two afterwards because even without that bitch Rona around, you’re HIGHLY susceptible to getting a life threatening illness and they need to monitor you. There is a third option though. Do nothing. Do nothing and let the disease take over. Do nothing and spend the rest of my days in Paris, in a little rooftop efficiency, eating and drinking in my favorite place in the entire world. Do nothing but die. Do you think sixteen days is enough time to decide which road to go down?