My medicine today is champagne, instead of chemo.
Not because there was a yippee or yay worthy event. Rather, there was an, oh sh$%t sort of event. Champagne seemed right. I like champagne. And I had a bottle in the fridge.
When I go to Dana Farber for a cancer appointment and my NP, Jen, walks in the room without a smile on her face, things are not good. Today, no smile and the news that last week’s scans show my cancer is progressing. Existing tumors are a little bigger and there are some new ones too. So, this chemo that I’ve been on, which landed me in the hospital, then obliterated my hair, and made me weary to the bone has had no significant effect on the cancer cells. How could that even be?
Tomorrow, a talk with my oncologist to decide what route to take next. A different chemo of one sort or another. Each cancer treatment I undergo carries me to the next. The longer I last on each, the longer I stick around. This short stint on Eribulin is disappointing, to put it mildly.
Will there be a clinical trial with the magic, silver bullet? In my lifetime? That’s what we’re hoping for. But, I remember when my father was dying from Parkinson’s Disease, he asked if there were any clinical trials he could participate in. The answer was no, and from there he sank. But there are new immunotherapy drugs being developed for breast cancer as we speak. Will I make it … who knows?
I will continue on as before, trying to focus on things that make me happy. It is sometimes simply impossible. Despair is unavoidable. So, trying to change the percentages, tipping the balance towards more joy than despair is the game I’m in now. Good champagne helps.
PS – No, I did not drink alone! Well, okay, the first glass, yes. Thank you Alison for drinking the rest of the bottle with me.