Spring Changes

Our Granddaughter Ammara’s Love Art

Life has been a whirlwind this past month, centered primarily around our upcoming move. Not by choice! Although the new place is just five miles away, the task of packing up hundreds upon hundreds of books, along with the rest of our household, has been quite a challenge. The silver lining? Our new house is filled with light and has a fantastic workspace and is conveniently closer to the beach. Once we're settled in, brace yourselves! The creative juices are flowing, and we're brimming with book ideas.

On the cancer front, today I had a meeting with my brilliant oncologist to review recent results and discuss our next steps. Throughout this journey, scans have consistently failed me, from missing my initial breast cancer years ago to the ongoing struggle to detect my lobular cancer through PET scans, CT scans, and MRIs. However, one test has remained reliable for me: CtDNA. This morning, the latest results revealed a doubling in my cancer's tumor mutational burden since the last test. What does this mean? It's time to switch up my chemotherapy, as the current treatment is no longer effective. Therefore, the plan is to potentially make a change following my seventh stent replacement surgery in June.

Jim and I want to express our deepest gratitude to each and every one of you who has been checking in on us and seeking updates on this journey with cancer. Your unwavering support means the world to us, and we are particularly grateful for those who have been a constant source of strength and companionship…and support us by buying our books and spreading the word about our work. The financial toxicity of cancer is real, and I still have to buy health insurance and pay the premiums in the open market place.

We cherish each of you dearly and cannot emphasize enough how much your love and support mean to us through these challenging times.

Progression and “Psychooncology” - Interaction Between Brain and Body

Jim and I celebrated my first stage 4 cancer diagnosis anniversary on June 27th. Thankfully, my first line of treatment has been working…until now. Or maybe it will continue to work for a bit longer.

My latest scans showed some progression. Metastatic involvement throughout the spine, pelvis, ribs. A lymph node enlargement. But I’m still the little engine that could.

I’m attending my first in-person medical conference this September and will share my story on a panel. My oncologist is excited about starting me on a Phase-One drug trial this fall. My team of doctors say, ‘Hang in there. You’re doing great.’

Since getting diagnosed (again) this past year and delving into patient advocacy, I probably get 30 to 50 medical articles a day through email or from friends who are in the same situation as me. This paragraph from an article published by the National Library of Medicine caught my attention today:

The field of psycho-oncology is hung up on the hyphen in its name. How do we understand the link between mind and body? Is that hyphen merely an arrow to the left, indicating that cancer in the body affects the mind? Can it be an arrow to the right as well, mind affecting the course of cancer? We know that social support affects survival, including that with cancer. Also, people tend to die after rather than before their birthdays and major holidays.  Depression worsens survival outcome with cancer.  Yet we have been understandably delicate about mind-body influence, not wanting to claim too much, or to provide unwitting support for overstated claims that wishing away cancer or picturing white blood cells killing cancer cells would actually do it. That arrow to the right is a connection, not a superhighway. Yet in our desire to be respected members of the oncology community we have often minimized a natural ally in the battle against cancer – the patient’s physiological stress coping mechanisms.

So here I am today. Despite this latest scan… I AM DOING GREAT!

Advocate for Yourself and Others

My Invasive Lobular Cancer (ILC) story started in 2003 when my general practitioner noticed a hard tissue in my right breast during my annual exam. I had just gone through a clear mammogram the week before. At the time we were living in Connecticut, and an ultrasound and a biopsy identified the tumor as 0.9 cm lobular breast cancer. I went through a lumpectomy and radiation and five years of tamoxifen, and all the stats I was given ran along the lines that they found the cancer early, and I was cured.

Fast forward to earlier this year. Nineteen years later. Out of nowhere, I developed food sensitivity…

Click Here to Read More at the Lobular Breast Cancer Alliance…

A Definite Diagnosis and a Plan...

June 29, 2022

Finally…

Four months of tests and I now have a diagnosis.

Metastatic lobular breast cancer with metastasis to peritoneum, ascites, and possibly bone cancer.

Is it tough to hear this? Yes.

It means that the breast cancer that I fought nineteen years ago was not defeated, just pushed back. It has been lurking, slowly growing, and waiting for a moment to resurface elsewhere in my body. The cancer cells that are sprinkled throughout my abdomen are EXACTLY the same breast cancer cells.

My reaction? All the things cancer can NOT DO. The words out of the oncologist’s mouth were clear and POSITIVE: ”This is serious. But although it’s not curable, it’s treatable.”

So, it begins. I have already started one medication. Another starts in a couple of weeks, once I recover from the surgery. As I mentioned earlier, I now have a chemo port in my chest that they’ll use to draw blood for tests. No poking me with a needle every two weeks.

This treatment should work to slow the growth and spread of the cancer for 2-5 years, before it develops a resistance. Then, we go from there. Who can tell what new treatments will be available then?

I couldn’t get to this point, this state of mind, without you my friends. Please, keep all the prayers and positivity coming, and please remember all the things cancer CANNOT do.

Love you.

And thank you to the person who posted online the image we’ve borrowed and inserted here. Much love to you.

We’ve been resisting this, but some of our friends have been pressing us to let them help. Medical costs are gradually mounting, so…if you care to make a donation, our PayPal address is

NikooandJim@gmail.com