[2020-12-03] Chemo #4 and good news
I almost titled yesterday's post "The ups and downs of chemotherapy," but changed my mind at the last minute.
Now, with the benefit of hindsight, I might have called yesterday's post "The downs" and today's "The ups."
I started my day at 6:00 a.m., getting up early so that I could make it to the hospital before its onsite lab opened at 7:30. Like last time, my blood was drawn at just after 7:30. I then headed upstairs to the Cancer Centre to check in and await news of the results. I would have put money on the fact that my neutrophil level would have continued to be too low for chemotherapy to proceed. In round 3, my level went from 1.1 to 1.2 in the 48 hours before treatment. I was very skeptical, therefore, that my level would jump from 0.7 to 1.0, the bare minimum needed.
At 8:12, I received a notification from the MyChart app on my phone that my test results were in. I opened the app and quickly searched for my neutrophil level. To my great surprise, I was at 1.2—enough for my chemotherapy to go ahead. I was stunned and ecstatic.
The second positive news of the day came at 10:13. I received a notification on the app of more test results. Included within that report was the result of a CA125 test. According to the Canadian Cancer Society,
Cancer antigen 125 (CA125) is a protein found on most ovarian cancer cells that is secreted into the blood stream and can be measured.... A CA125 test is a blood test that measures the amount of CA125 protein in the blood.... A decrease in the CA125 level during treatment usually means that the cancer is responding to treatment.
I've had three CA125 tests. The first was on July 29 at the Queensway-Carleton Hospital when I was first told that I had ovarian cancer. My CA125 level on that day was 920. A month after surgery and before my chemotherapy began, it was 862. This morning, after 3 rounds of chemotherapy, it was 19. The standard range is less than 35. At 19, I am well within the standard range. That feels like huge progress.
When I mentioned my result to my chemo nurse, she said, things like, "that's very good" and "that's really fantastic" and "that's like an early Christmas present" and "I love to hear stories like these."
Today feels like all "ups."
And even though yesterday felt like all "downs," there was a lot to be gained from it. I learned from other cancer survivors that treatment plans rarely go as scheduled. Delays, which would be better described as adjustments, are very common. One friend told me,
Yes the chemo plan is presented as something that won't change. I actually know few people who had their chemo plan go off without some sort of a hitch.
That was so reassuring.
Other friends reminded me that it's OK to let go and to recognize that I can't control the process. One person hit the nail on the head with this comment:
Remember - try not to apply your work ethic to your chemo, trying to get it done most efficiently. The hardest part of all this must be that you aren’t always in charge of your "performance", as a high functioning person who likes to "dig in and get ‘er done." I secretly giggled a little reading this, knowing you will give anything a try if there’s a chance it will work out. Lol. That’s the leader Jen I have come to know from afar.
Another friend also recognized my type A personality at work:
Your ability to understand that delays are just part of the process demonstrates how grounded you are. I used to get bent out of shape when things did not unfold as planned. Then I learnt to let go and ultimately the universe’s plan for me was better than the one I had envisioned through my type triple A lens. Letting go does not equal failure.
Comments like those and this one—"Whatever the result - it was meant to be!"—were so helpful. I've always been a head-of-the-class type of person and a bit of a control freak. I work hard, and I succeed. Cancer is a different kind of challenge, and it's good for me to recognize that.
I have so much to be grateful for tonight. Chemo #4 is in the books. My cancer seems to be responding well to treatment—really well, in fact. I've learned that a treatment plan is subject to change and that such changes are both normal and OK. I also learned that the greatest benefit comes from the earlier rounds of chemo.
The friend who giggled at my post last night included another thought that made my day:
You are making lemonade, and it is just the tonic I personally need everyday to remind myself that there is beauty and humour and joy and truth and things to be grateful for in every twist and turn of life - even the really gnarly bits.
My deepest thanks to all of you for your ongoing support and for sending what one person called "white blood cell energies."
