lunhs cancer

And humbled. And stunned. And grateful. And relieved. I spent a big chunk of February scrambling to find a way to fund the wonderfully intense clinical trial that I am so thankful to be in. I have received some of the kindest rejections of my life, from organizations that truly want to help patients, but for various reasons were not able to help me. We were getting closer to March, and I hadn�t booked any of my March flights yet. I was starting to worry. So when my dear friend Lily (the same one who gifted me the  ruby slippers ) brought up the idea of doing a gofundme, I initially balked. I was sure I could find a foundation to cover the expense. But the days marched on, and still nothing. Finally, I gave her my blessing to start it. And HOLY MOLY! If you are curious to see what I�m taking about, you can check it out here . I am so moved by the response. What more can you really want from life than to love and be loved? To put some good out into the world? To have a life well live...

I successfully passed all the tests and got accepted into the study! There is a weird sweet spot you have to hit in order to qualify for a clinical trial. If you don't have enough cancer in your body, you will not qualify because you do not have "measurable disease." If  you have too much, you will be too unwell to be considered as a candidate. I hit the goldilocks level of cancer! Yay for having measurable disease?!? What a strange thing to wish for. I took the first dose on Thursday and now I just hope (and hope and hope) that it works. I got to see both of the Wizards on my trip to Oz (my ruby slippers were a hit), and as usual they impressed me with their intelligence and compassion. They both have the remarkable ability to treat a patient as an equal partner in their care, something I have rarely found elsewhere. I love that they take the time to explain the science behind the treatments. I asked what I could do if this doesn�t work, and he explained that a chemo/imm...

We returned from our marvelous vacation last night, the first time the five of us have taken a vacation together (please, please don�t say it will be the last). My high point of the trip was visiting the beach where Jason and I got married, and introducing our children to the ocean. I wanted to catch that moment and hold onto it forever. If I stayed here all day, all week, all month, would it be enough? When I was diagnosed, I hoped I would live long enough to see my son start kindergarten. If only I could stay alive long enough.... Then I hoped to live to see my girls enter kindergarten. Stay alive long enough.... Now I hope to see my son into middle school. But I�ve realized it will never be enough. Even if I make it another 11 years so they all become adults, I will still want more. Being so very aware of mortality is painful and poignant and achingly nostalgic. There will never be enough of this life. So I cling to the sunshine and memories from our glorious week and let those carr...

When I was first diagnosed with metastatic lung cancer in 2013, the situation was dire. Cancer has spread extensively throughout my body. The only option offered to me for treatment was chemotherapy, a triplet of chemicals which had a 1/3 chance of reducing the cancer, and a 1/3 chance of holding it stable. The last 1/3 was left up to my imagination. Even with treatment, they expected I had about 8 months to live. Thankfully, fortune smiled upon me and we discovered that my cancer was driven by a ROS1 mutation. This meant that we had a whole new line of attack: we could try to stop the cancer right at the source. Since November of 2013 I have been taking daily pills that target my ROS1 mutation: Xalkori for 4 years (which worked like a charm, except for a few pesky brain mets, the known weakness of Xalkori). Next were the 11 bumpy months on entrectinib, where slight changes in the brain mets left my doctors scratching their heads after each MRI. Progression vs radiation necrosis, so ha...