Staying hopeful

Last week my friend J died after only a few days with hospice care. I saw her on Thursday at our support group and days later she died. On Sunday Rik and I attended her memorial service. And tonight I went with friends to a shiva minyan at her home. The mourners? Her wife, her college-aged daughter, her sister and other family members.

Joanie, like me, had lived with metastatic breast cancer for more than a few years. We shared many struggles and difficulties, but I think we both approached living with advanced cancer in similar ways.

Sometimes it sucks.

Other times it's just life. Or as our friend D from group puts it, the glass is full.

No, my nickname isn't Pollyanna. My life isn't all smiles and good cheer. It's just that I'd rather find the joy in each day if I can.

Even when I was hospitalized recently and shaking with fever and chills, after the shaking stopped, I tried to relax and practice my yoga breathing. The next day, if I could eat, I wanted some vitamin CH (that's chocolate to the rest of you). 

I don't know how, even in this aftermath of yet another friend's death from advanced cancer, I can still smile. But somehow I manage to find joy in every day.

You might find this article from CURE Magazine of note: Hope in the Face of Death: Living With Metastatic Breast Cancer. The author notes that there are long-term outliers living with mets, naming me and others among them. 

Every click on the article results in a donation to METAvivor. And if we don't give now to fund research into metastatic breast cancer, then when?

Happy 13th metsiversary to me!

We were so ridiculously busy on my 13th mets anniversary that I didn't get to blog about it all yet.

I decided to hold a big party, and invited 87 people to attend. I didn't even realize I was that friendly with so many people! About 35 folks showed up, which is a great amount for our backyard to hold.

I strung some lights we normally only use in the sukkah, and put them along the deck railing the way my niece Dana did at my 5th metsiversary. Rik moved the heavy table and chairs off the deck and onto the grass. S and her daughter L pulled out all our folding chairs and gave them a wash and some, a scrub (which they desperately needed). They also pulled all the tomato plants off the plastic table and gave that a wash too. Such excellent helpers!

Rik arranged everything into an arc, put chairs around the tables. Someone moved the Radost bench out of its housing in our garage and put more chairs facing it. I found tablecloths and put out tea lights in holders. Sadly, it was cool and windy that evening and the candles blew out right away. Next time I'll listen to S and ask to borrow the battery-powered ones from Radost.

D brought her longer folding table and many friends squeezed the incredible amount of chocolate desserts which people brought for potluck. Thanks especially to G and D for bringing an enormous
cheese platter which all enjoyed. Yes J, I still have your delicious cheese which those foodies would have devoured in seconds.

There was also ice cream (even some Graeter's, my hometown favorite from Cincinnati, now in QFC stores here); wine; lemonade (in case it got hot - feh); fruit; you name it. Mostly chocolate thought. My friends know me well. And I sent food home with as many people as would take (don't worry R: I saved your cake for me!)

The dogs were wild. At least Bob had the sense to lie down in his crate after he barked at everyone. Boychik tried to eat all the chocolate and was a huge annoyance, but it was better to pat him away from the table than listen to him whine from somewhere in the house. I think.

A true highlight came when D and C said a few words of Torah. I had never thought to bring this part of Judaism to my celebrations before, but given that this was my cancer "bat mitzvah," it seemed appropriate. I had asked them to speak that night, and I've asked them if I may share their words on my blog. Update soon.

I said my thanks to all, to Dr G, and to the universe for giving me so many loving friends and family  and years to spend with them. I go t a little ferklemt (that means teary-eyed) and then I blew my annual Bronx cheer to cancer. Also known as a "raspberry," I had to teach some folks who weren't native New Yorkers. You can imagine the sound we made.

To top things off, we made a toast and G and W, who recently were in a production of Fiddler on the Roof, led us all in the famous song from that show "To Life! To Life! L'chaim!"

I try hard to only blow a Bronx cheer on August 20th. The rest of the year I say to my cancer, you can live with me but you have to behave. It hasn't been very "have" lately (more on that soon), but we're giving it the big meds to quiet things down. So far, so good.

Back to the party: D brought her tambura and K his violin and gave an impromptu concert. When D started to play Evo bank Cigane moj, I thought to myself "I know that song!" Of course I did - D let me sing it in a concert a few years ago, the Passover when I dislocated my left elbow. I just had to sing with them. Thankfully D had brought the words.

So there was music, dancing, and eating, hugging and kissing and laughter. In short, it was a fantastic way to celebrate 13 years of living with mets.

L'chaim to all of us -- until 120 years!  עד מאה ועשרים שנה‎; in Yiddish "Biz Hundret un Tsvantsig"

new york times article by long term mets survivor

if katherine russell rich can live 17 years with metastatic breast cancer, then so can i!

read her article: 17 Years Later, Stage 4 Survivor Is Savoring a Life Well Lived

2009-2010 breast cancer stats

according to the american cancer society's publication, Breast Cancer Facts & Figures 2009-2010, in a chart on page 9, 24.7% of white patients with metastatic disease will live five years.

i have already outlived these stats, and the ones i was given in 2002 when re-diagnsoed with mets.

the same brochure also gives more information about survival rates on page 29:

Five-year survival statistics are based on cancer patients diagnosed between 1999-2005, 10-year survival rates are based on diagnoses between 1995-2005, and 15-year survival rates are based on diag- noses between 1989-2005. All patients were followed through 2006. Relative survival rates are used to adjust for normal life expectancy (and events such as death from heart disease, accidents, and diseases of old age). Relative survival is calculated by dividing the percent- age of observed 5-year survival for cancer patients by the 5-year survival expected for people in the general population who are similar to the patient group with respect to age, sex, race, and calendar year of obser- vation. Relative survival rates are not calculated for Hispanics/Latinos, Asian Americans/Pacific Islanders, and American Indians/Alaska Natives because reliable estimates of normal life expectancy are not available for these groups. Therefore, cause-specific survival rates are presented. Cause-specific survival rates are the probability of not dying of breast cancer within 5 years after diagnosis. Cause-specific survival does not account for stage and age at diagnosis. When referenced as such, 5-year survival statistics were originally published in SEER Cancer Statistics Review, 1975-2006.

Horner MJ, Ries LAG, Krapcho M, et al., eds. SEER Cancer Statistics Review, 1975-2006. National Cancer Institute. Bethesda, MD, http://seer.cancer.gov/csr/1975_2006/, based on November 2008 SEER data submission, posted to the SEER web site, 2009.

it's a lot of medical mumbo-jumbo, but basically i have already beaten the odds several times. now we have to hope that vast array of chemotherapies and other targeted therapies will continue to keep my cancer under control.