On Eagle’s Wings

The crew before the game

This summer was unique in many ways. One special aspect of it was that I saw many friends and family that I had not seen in a long time. After visiting with them, I would think to myself… Am I seeing all of these people because I’m going to die soon? Is this God’s way of having me see people I care about before I die? This perspective was negative and represented where I was mentally after my surgeries. When my summer was winding down, my thoughts changed to… Because I have been through so much suffering in the past 18 months, God is rewarding me by allowing me to see my friends and family.  My rewards haven’t stopped. I can see it in the success of my giveforward page as well as my time spent last weekend in Philadelphia.

I’m a HUGE Philadelphia Eagles fan (it’s rather pathetic). When I was a kid, my uncle had season tickets to the Eagles and he would always get Eagles attire for my brother and me. As I grew older, I became a more intense fan. If the Eagles won, the following week would be beautiful. If the Eagles lost, the next day would be miserable and that misery would linger through the week.  When Janie and I began dating, she quickly realized how the games affected me and would attempt to cheer me up after big losses. For example, after the Eagles lost the NFC championship game to the Carolina Panthers, Janie adopted our first bulldog Bart. I’m also a little superstitious when it comes to the Eagles. If they’re on a losing streak, I might change the shirt I’m wearing for the game. If they win, I’ll keep wearing the shirt. I also partly blame myself for the Eagles losing the 2004 Super Bowl because I moved my television to a different room to watch the game. I realize the absurdity of my behaviors and thoughts, but this is the Eagles.

Last season, I discovered another way the Eagles impact me. During the three-hour game each week, I’m cancer-free. Because I’m so engrossed in the game, cancer doesn’t cross my mind.  For me, this past weekend was the equivalent of a kid going to Disney World. My good friend Kirk Meekins, a fellow Eagles loyalist, wanted to help us and brainstormed ways to help. He knew I loved the Eagles and wanted to do something special for us. He began contacting his friends who were Eagles fans, who then contacted other Eagles fans, who contacted other Eagles fans. Through those connections, he was able to get me and my family tickets to the game, passes to get onto the field before the game, and access to the team in the tunnel. They also got us a hotel room for the night before the game. Previously, I’ve held the belief that Katie wouldn’t go to an Eagles home game until she began dating…in her thirties, but how things have changed and how I’ve changed. This past weekend was amazing in so many ways.

One memorable moment was going to mass in Philadelphia. Kirk surprised me on Saturday night by telling me that I would be going on the field before the game. I now needed to get to the stadium earlier than I originally planned. As a result, I needed to find an earlier time to attend church so I could maximize my time in the parking lot and on the field. I googled “catholic churches in downtown Philadelphia” and compared mass times to find the earliest one. I found the closest church with the earliest mass. Walking into the church I noticed a sign that said…here lies the remains of the first American male saint, John Neumann. This was special to me because I take a relic of John Neumann to my CT scans and MRIs. I was completely shocked and realized this weekend was truly something special. I don’t believe in coincidences anymore, I believe everything happens for a reason. I see this experience as another sign that I’m going to be ok.

Once at the game, it was better than any Disney vacation. The whole experience was amazing and reinforced the beauty of the human spirit. Yes, an Eagles game reinforced the beauty of the human spirit. People I’ve never met before went out of their way to help me and my family enjoy something I love. All of us talked about how it would be an epic weekend, but it was above and beyond our expectations. I know the first half of the game was ugly, but the Eagles ended up winning 34-17. The victory guaranteed a wonderful week ahead for me. I can’t express enough gratitude to Kirk Meekins and the fellow Eagles loyalists who helped orchestrate this memorable weekend. Kirk you’re a rocket surgeon. Thanks so much for making an already unbelievable weekend even better. So far with my new jersey, the EAGLES are undefeated. E-A-G-L-E-S EAGLES!!!!!

Janie and me on the field

Katie’s first game at the Linc and she is on the field

Summer time

After hearing I would never be “cancer free”, I tried to get into a routine with my activities and thought structure would improve my mentality.  It wasn’t until the second day of my vacation at the Outer Banks that I truly experienced the mental clarity I was seeking.  While holding my daughter Katie’s hand in the waves, I looked back at the beach and saw Janie holding Anabel in a beach chair.  At that moment my life was PERFECT.  There was nowhere else I wanted to be.  There was nothing else I wanted to be doing.  Cancer didn’t matter.  I had the mental clarity I was pursuing.  It came to me when I stopped trying to force it.  Since then, having thoughts of cancer hasn’t bothered me as much.  At times I am still afraid, but I can quickly dismiss those thoughts and focus on the present.

I’ve been trying to embrace my suffering since I learned I would not be “cancer free”.  The doctors tell me I won’t be “cancer free” and medically that may be true.  But physically I feel “cancer free”, so why not live that way.  I have daily reminders that I have cancer because of the chemo pills I take each morning.  My chemo cycle is three weeks on and one week off.  I’m in the second week of my my second cycle.  The chemo has lowered my white blood cell and platelet counts, which has made me more susceptible to infections.  But each chemo treatment I’ve been on, has had similar effects on my blood.  I will continue this chemo regimen until my next set of scans.  My brain MRI will be September 24th and a CT scan of my chest and abdomen will be October 1st.

This summer has been the scariest and most beautiful of my life.  You know why it has been the scariest.  It’s also been the most beautiful because I’ve seen so many wonderful friends and family that I wouldn’t normally see over a summer.  We’ve either gone away or hosted friends and family every weekend except two since finishing brain radiation.  It’s been busy, but a nice busy and our weekends will still be busy with more fun weekends planned in the fall.  This summer has been great, but pales in comparison to what our plans are for next summer (There will be a future blog post about our plans for next summer).  Thanks to all of you who’ve made an effort to visit, call, text, or reach out to me and my family in any way.

After brain surgery some friends and their families came to visit and camped in our yard.  Here is a video a friend made during that weekend.  Just a piece of the awesome summer we had together.

I can’t believe all of the support we have received in kind neighborly deeds and financial donations from family, friends, neighbors and strangers.  We are grateful for everyone’s help.  The funds are being used towards my integrative/homeopathic treatment as well as other medical bills.  I’ve begun a treatment using mistletoe injections every other morning.  Yes, mistletoe.  It will boost my immune system and  help reduce the side effects of chemo.  If you are interested in reading about details and the reasoning behind the injections, I’ve included a website you can check out  http://www.believebig.org/Mistletoe.html

I’ve also begun bovine marrow injections to boost my white blood cell (WBC) and platelet counts.  Since the injections of mistletoe and bovine marrow, I’ve had more energy and I’m feeling great physically.  Fortunately for my family, I haven’t started to smell like a bovine.  Who knows if it’s a placebo effect or not? Either way, I’ll take it as long as it works and I feel good.

I can’t say enough about how appreciative we are for the tremendous amount of support and love we have received throughout this experience. A special thanks to Tom and Debbie Curran who allowed us to stay at their beautiful home on the Outer Banks last week.  It was the best medicine for me. I continue to ask for your prayers, positive thoughts, and positive vibes for my family.  God bless.

Words For Wein -Guest Post By Brad

Hey Kevin –

As much as this letter is to you, from us, it is also for us, from you. Because, you see, we aren’t nearly as sure of ourselves as you are, as you navigate this troubling time in your life; we are collectively hanging onto your coattails, lingering in the as-soon-as-we-can-hear-it “now” of your news and updates. With this recent development in your fight against the invasive intruder into your existence, I thought it might be time to weigh in with some thoughts. I don’t intend to speak for everyone, nor with the assumption that my words will be an accurate representation of what others in your world are experiencing – but my intent is to let you know how I (we) perceive you, and your fight against cancer. (note: I started writing this just before your last surgery – and the relief we feel with the success of that procedure, and with your continued resilience, is profound)

I am 41 years old. I am a father of three girls and have an amazing wife that I met at a school in the woods of Dillwyn, VA. I am part of an extended New Dominion School family that includes people that I barely knew or worked with, but with whom I share a bond that goes beyond any ordinary “co-worker” relationships. In addition, we’ve all met friends and family members of our friends at NDS, and for some reason, they are part of that extended NDS family, too. We’ve been to weddings, and parties, and beach houses, and more weddings, and baby showers. We’ve made a bunch of babies. All of them are amazing little people, and when we see them together, we are overjoyed – and I think we half expect some of them to marry each other! We’ve built houses, and made homes and deepened the communities in which we live; we’ve continued our education and changed careers and started schools and have worked tirelessly to continue to help others. While we’ve seen a few bumps in relationships over a decade or so, for the most part, we have mostly known happiness and success and pride in what we do. We all know what it means to embrace a struggle and to grow. It’s not easy – but somehow, for those of us who were at New Dominion – we seem to enjoy the opportunity to risk and grow and be inspired by each other. We know how to get back up.

But I, for one, have never had to deal with something like this. You, of all people, have cancer. And it is still foreign and strange and impossibly… impossible… for me to comprehend that. And that is why I wanted to write. Because while I know that some of us have perhaps seen others struggle with this disease, or have had tragedies in their lives with which to cope and manage personal stress and sadness, this is mostly uncharted territory to us, too. We didn’t ever think this would happen to one of us, certainly not so soon. Yes, we’re a little older and grayer than we were 10 years ago, but we weren’t ready for this. I’m incredibly sorry that you have had to face this fight. It’s hard to describe how “with you” we are in this. And more than that, it’s hard to describe how we feel. In some ways – numb, and scared. But as you’ll see, we feel so much more than that.

This isn’t a downer message, though, and I hope and trust that you won’t read it as such. This is me speaking from the heart. This whole thing has been hard to know how to deal with – and nobody knows that more than you and Janie. We LOVE you so much – and the weird and odd thing is that we probably wouldn’t have ever told you that so much when life was “normal” back before January of 2013. But it’s forever different now, and it gives us strength to simply tell you we love you – and we love Janie and Katie and Anabel – because we know that those words fill you up. And therefore, they fill us too.

With my family around the dinner table one night a few weeks ago, I asked them all to think of a word or two that came to mind for them when they thought about your situation. My girls have been aware of the events, but not always so transparently – but I wanted to hear their responses, too. We had just learned about the tumor in your brain, and I had no other option in my mind than to speak about it – I could not think about anything else. Eleanor’s words, deliberately thought out and communicated, in this order: “Sad. Worried. Hopeful”. Sometimes 6 year olds know just what to say. Virginia jumped on the “hopeful” idea, and turned it into Optimistic. Laura and I had our words, too – resolve and renewal and love among others (it’s hard to just pick one or two)… and then it made sense that this was how I could communicate with you what people are feeling and thinking. I had been mulling over the idea to write to you, and had the idea to ask the group of people who’ve been with you on your journey over the past 16+ months and followed your blog to share some words that comes to mind for them (about your blog, by the way – who knew you were such a gifted writer?! – I can only hope that I articulate this as well as you).   I’m sure you hear it in bits and pieces, on the phone or in texts, etc… but perhaps this will put it all into context for you. Interestingly enough – even though at the time we were all holding our collective breath as you headed into surgery – there were few words of sadness, or fear, or worry. While one friend said “I am struggling to witness the difficulty of Kevin’s battle to beat this” (and true enough, it has been hard, which is part of why I needed to write this)… and little Ellie spoke those words that are meaningful (and perhaps an accurate representation of what we are all indeed feeling from time to time) – the words that people chose are powerfully uplifting. More than anything, it is quite clear to me that you’ve made a deep impact on people as you’ve fought, and been so transparent with your inner thoughts and feelings along the way. We thank you deeply for sharing everything with us, and for showing us your inner light.

I created a “word cloud” of what people shared. I thought it was a cool way to sum it all up, instead of just giving you a list of words. Words that appear bigger mean that they were repeated words.  Click here  to see it (it may take an extra second to load) – and a picture:

Some people understandably had more to say than just a word or two; here’s a few statements that your friends made:

• “If I had one pick for a partner or supporter to get me through the hardest challenge of my life, I’d pick Kevin. He’s the Michael Jordan of relentless optimism and I know he wouldn’t stop until the job was done.”

• “You’re a good man. And strong. We are thinking of you and praying for all the strength you need to get through this.”

• “Kevin teaches through his actions and relationships with family and friends. I feel blessed to call him my friend.”

• “He possesses the strength of a peaceful warrior.”

• “To be honest, he renders me speechless with his endurance and raw faith.”

• “…toenail dagger ninja (Janie and Kevin may only get that one – which is included for a good laugh).”

• “He can make you feel like you’ve been friends with him forever even if you’ve just met him.”

• “Nothing can dim the light which shines from within.” – Maya Angelou

• “Never stuck in his own head. Always aware of the world around him and trying to make it better. We should all learn from his example.”

• “The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that is wants to live humbly for one.” – Wilhelm Stekel

• “Kevin is a genuine teacher of selflessness.”

As Father’s Day approaches next week, I am thinking of you, and the wonderful father and person that you are. We are humbled by your grace and dignity; your resilience and optimism; your commitment to your family and faith; and your resolve and determination. You have fought cancer in a way that makes us all ready to fight with you, in our own way, in our day-to-day lives. Rarely a day passes in which a thought for your recovery and health doesn’t pass through my mind, with a prayer that you continue to be as steadfast and strong in your fight. We all undeniably believe in you, and while we may not know what the future holds, it’s fair to say that we fully expect you to recover and to continue to be a positive force in the world. You have changed us for the better, and we surround you with our hearts and souls, and hope that this continues to give you the strength to win.

As one person summed it up: KEVIN STRONG

With Love, Respect, and Understanding,

Brad

After Brain Surgery

I am still having a hard time believing I had brain surgery. The tumor, roughly the size of a grape, caused bleeding in my brain which then led to swelling. Five years ago, I moved from Tampa, Florida to Maryland to take a job at Johns Hopkins. I’m blessed to have worked at Johns Hopkins and met many wonderful and brilliant people along the way. The surgeons, nurses, and anesthesiologistare all world class. I was blessed to have Dr. Olivi who is the Department Chairman of Neurosurgery and Dr.Seiber, the Department Chairman of Anesthesiology, perform their respected duties. Having them there made a scary situation more manageable.

I met with a radiation oncologist last week, and I will get at least one treatment of radiation on my brain. Tomorrow I’ll have the staples removed from my head and then get a simulation test on my brain for radiation. I will get a high-resolution MRI scan of my brain to check for any more spots. Depending on the results of the scan, the radiation will be focused on individual areas of the brain. I was informed that if I don’t have radiation the recurrence probability is 50% to that area. If I receive radiation, the recurrence rate would be roughly 10%. I really don’t like talking numbers because everything I’ve had happen to me is so rare in the first place. I was also informed not to think that because the cancer moved to the brain, doesn’t mean it’s more aggressive. Chemo has a difficult time penetrating the brain. I will continue to have MRIs and CT scans to monitor my brain. The doctors said they will take an aggressive approach, which I’m all for. I have an appt. with my oncologist on June 18 to discuss further chemo. I didn’t lose my hair during the surgery and I might lose a little of it depending on my radiation site.

 My recovery is going well. The tumor caused swelling of my brain, which affected my left leg and arm. My left leg and arm felt heavier than my right side, which made me off balance. Since the surgery, my balance is back to normal and I’m going on nightly walks. I’m still catching up on sleep from being in the hospital. I will take another week off before returning to work.

I wanted to thank everyone for your support, hospital visits, prayers and encouragement. During this scary time, your support helped my family and me immensely.

Fight On, Fight On

This has been my biggest fear since I was diagnosed with cancer… It has spread to your brain. So here I am facing my biggest fear. All I can say is my life is crazy. This is the second time I thought I was ahead of cancer only to get my legs taken out from under me again. But I think, once I have brain surgery, what’s harder than that.  I don’t like typing those words because I’m afraid something will bite me in the butt, but seriously I’m having brain surgery, I’m officially the toughest person I know… not to toot my own horn.

I was planning on writing about strong will this week and then this happened. Since I can remember, I’ve always hated losing.   It was sparked by my older brother who could be beat me at everything, and always reminded me of it, but that made me stronger.

It wasn’t always pretty. I remember chasing my brother down the street with a spear after losing to him in basketball (the spear was a souvenir my dad picked up for me while he was visiting Africa, in hindsight, not the best idea and the spear was quickly put away after this incident). However, my competitive spirit never left.

I grew up playing soccer and basketball and I was never the best person on the team, but I always played my hardest. I think this has fueled my battle for life. I’ll be honest, I’ve had more thoughts of dying since my recent news, but I will fight this like everything else I’ve done. I can’t give up, I’ve been through too much to stop now. I don’t know if I know how to stop. I don’t think I’m programmed for that. I have a beautiful wife and two beautiful and amazing daughters. I need to fight for them. I would chase anything down with an African spear that would attempt to keep me from spending more time with them. All of this is surreal.

My family and I are grateful for your prayers and support. Please keep them coming. I believe prayer is my best medicine. I’m hoping to get some relaxation in and go to the outer banks following surgery later in June. The beach has always been therapeutic for me.

Three O’Clock Hour

I’ve had a strange cancer day that demonstrates how cancer can drastically change my life in a short time. During this last surgery, which was my second lung surgery in three weeks, the surgeon removed a cancerous tumor from my lung and then saw some spots on my ribs. She decided to biopsy and remove the spots for further testing. I got the results back today and the spots are not cancerous. During the 24 hours I was waiting for results, I was worried the cancer had spread to my bones. When I get CT scans, I understand the results may include new spots. Going into surgery, I was not expecting to hear I had additional spots. I was planning on hearing. We got it all.

 I’m feeling blessed that the cancer hasn’t spread to my bones. As I type this, I’m amazed at how drastically my life could have changed after the conversation I had with my doctor just hours ago. My doctor called me at 3:00 p.m. to tell me the results. I knew it was a positive sign that she called by phone instead of coming to my room to tell me in person. When she told me the biopsy results were negative, I felt like I was on cloud nine. I feel like I have my life back.

 Once again, cancer has shown me the value of each second of every minute of every hour of every day I have on this beautiful world.

CT Scan/Radiation and Reggae

I wrote the radiation part of this blog last week, but have been unable to find the time to post it. I felt the need to update everyone of my recent CT scan results prior to talking about radiation. I learned today that I have a new tumor in my right lung. That means the three months of chemo I’ve been on has been ineffective. The spot isn’t large and I believe it can be radiated. My current tumors aren’t particularly challenging, the challenging part is finding a chemo that works. Because my cancer has a mutation, research shows that there are only two chemo combinations that are effective. Unfortunately, I’ve had them both and they weren’t completely effective. I will be able to treat my current localized spots with radiation and surgery.

It was hard to hear that my chemo was ineffective. Instantly, my thoughts went to dying and not being here for my family. I began to think about the future and the possibility of getting a tumor in a spot that’s not treatable. I was not appreciating the moment.   I have two spots in my lungs that will be able to be removed or killed through radiation and surgery. I can’t focus on the future because all of this is out of my control and I’m unaware of the big plan for me. All I can do is try my best at everything I do and to cherish the moments I have with my family and friends.

Radiation Reggae

Getting ready to receive radiation treatment.

As I was lying down on the radiation table looking up at the tree canopy images on the ceiling, I wondered what this next phase of treatment would bring. They gave me a list of potential side effects. I was anxiously awaiting radiation when the machine’s arms began rotating around me. With each noise I heard, I wondered what it was doing to my body. I began feeling a burning sensation in my chest where I presumed my nodule was located. The burning lasted for 15 minutes and then a voice over the speaker said, “Things are looking good. We are about to start treatment. We are just waiting for the doctor to give us the okay.” Wait, What? It hasn’t started yet? I quickly realized the burning sensation was a self-induced side effect.

I received four treatments in the course of one week. I never did experience any burning sensation during my radiation or have any noticeable side effects. I would take radiation over chemo any day. I was fortunate because I’ve heard horrible stories of radiation side effects. The process for me was smooth. On treatment day, I would drive to Hopkins, change my clothes, get called into the radiation room, choose which music I would like to listen to, get locked-down to a table, lie still while the radiation machine arms rotated around me, get up and change my clothes, and drive back to work or home.

At every treatment, the tech would let me choose the type of music. I always choose to listen to reggae because it is nice and relaxing, but I soon realized it is also foot-tapping music. I had to consciously think about not moving because I didn’t want them to “zap” the wrong area.

Now my schedule is a CT scan, today, April 23^rd , meet with lung surgeon on the 24^th, surgery on the 29^th. This surgery is planned to be less invasive than my previous lung surgery. It will be laparoscopic and my hospital stay should be for a few days. I will then wait four weeks and go back on chemo in June.

Not being on chemo has been wonderful. I have been able to play more with my children, work more, attend church more, and enjoy friends and family over Easter. I’m also excited because my oldest daughter’s birthday is in May so I won’t have a chemo hangover for her kid and family birthday parties. I love not being on chemo and not a second goes by that I don’t appreciate the freedom of not having a chemo pump attached to my chest.

Easter Vigil. Janie coming into the church

Easter morning

Christ statue at Hopkins. I pray here before every appointment.

Scope It Out 5k

Recently I ran in the Scope it Out 5K Colon Cancer Awareness Race in Washington D.C. and it could not have come at a better time. I haven’t been feeling connected to people because my life is not “normal” and it’s hard to relate to others because my life is so upside down. I try to present myself to others as normal as possible because I believe most people don’t want to hear how I’m really doing as it creates awkward moments which people don’t know how to respond. Honestly, 18 rounds of chemo and two intensive surgeries in one year, and upcoming radiation, surgery, and more chemo weighs on me physically and emotionally.

When I talk with other cancer patients going through chemo, we categorize the weeks as a “good week” or a “chemo week”. A “good week” is a week without a chemo treatment. For me, it’s having the energy to play with my kids, helping around the house, connecting with friends, and being able to work. However, due to my illness even on “good weeks” I only work about 20 hours. I believe it’s unethical to take new patients because I miss a lot of work due to medical appointments and chemo. Over the past 14 months, I’ve missed more than four months of work to fight this. I thank God everyday for my boss Frank Gibson. Frank and the staff have been supportive and helpful since day one. I am fortunate to have such an understanding and caring workplace.

A “chemo week” begins with chemo treatment all day on Tuesday then off from work on Wednesday due to symptoms of fatigue and nausea. On Thursday and Friday, I usually go back to work. It isn’t the most ideal situation because I still have the chemo pump attached to me for part of the day on Thursday and feel fatigued for both days. Finally, by Saturday I start to feel normal. Here’s an example that shows how fatigue affects me. I might be resting on the couch and become thirsty and it is hard for me to muster up the energy to get a drink. It’s a task that I wouldn’t think twice about on a “good” week, however, during “chemo” week it’s difficult. Another struggle for me during “chemo week” is having my oldest daughter see me napping in the afternoon. It frustrates me because it’s “normal” for my daughter to see me napping throughout the week in the afternoon and early evening hours and I don’t like that her reality is seeing her father sleeping in a bed all the time.

I’ve always considered myself an energetic and happy go lucky person, to the point where it might be annoying to others. So when my energy is not there during “chemo week” it makes it that much more frustrating. However, during the Scope It Out 5K I didn’t have that problem. With Team Wine-Icki, consisting of 30 members, I was full of energy.  I was worried about how I would do with the jogging/walking because it was a “chemo week” for me but getting out of my routine and spending the day with family and friends was exactly what I needed.

Thanks to all of you who ran and supported my family and I. It was an awesome day. Katie and I finished in 48 minutes. I am so proud of my daughter Katie who ran the majority of the way. Watching her run was a moment that I’ll replay for a long time. It was fun watching her run because she ran as fast as she could the whole way. She even heckled me because I was jogging and not sprinting. She doesn’t understand the concept of jogging because when she plays she runs as fast as she can, as do I when I play tag or hide and seek with her.   I woke up sore the next day and she teased me by saying “Why are you sore? You didn’t even run”.

Betsy and Katie about to run

Special thanks to Kevin Gladstone for organizing the event. Kevin, I love hanging out man. You always make me laugh. Kevin finished 9^th out of 2151 participants. Great job team captain. My cousin Rachel posted the fastest time in her age group and I’m sure Katie won her age group. So, Team Wine-icki had a great showing in the results category as well as at the after party.

Today, I finished my last round of chemo for two months. I’ll have radiation on a nodule in my right lung on 4/7, 4/9, 4/11, and 4/14. Then I will have lung surgery on 4/29 to remove a nodule in my left lung. I will get a four-week break to recover from surgery then begin chemo again in the summer. Please continue to keep me in your prayers this month.

Please Keep Matt Janicki in your prayers as well. He put the “icki” in Team Wine-icki. He’s 36 years old and has a similar diagnosis to mine.

Part of Team Wine-icki

Scan update

Good news.  I don’t have any new nodules and the ones I have are smaller.  The plan is to have radiation for the nodule in my right lung.  I’ll meet with the radiation oncologist in the coming weeks and he will explain the radiation process.  From what I was told by my oncologist it may be between 2-4 treatments of radiation. I will continue to receive chemo while getting radiation.  I will meet with the thoracic surgeon next week to discuss having surgery to remove the nodule in my left lung and establishing a time frame for the surgery.  I’ve discussed this particular nodule with her and she would be able to remove it and the surgery would be less invasive than my previous surgeries.  I will need to be off chemo for possibly four weeks before having the surgery.  After surgery, I will complete the rest of my chemo regimen.  Overall, I have four more months of chemo with radiation and a surgery thrown into the mix. 

Being A Cancer Patient and Clinician

I always knew I wanted to help people but wasn’t sure who I wanted to help.  In my experience as a psychotherapist, I’ve worked with people of all ages and with various mental illnesses.  With each new job, I would dive-in and adopt the clinic’s particular focus but I was always searching for my area of specialty.  I didn’t think my calling would involve my own illness.  I now realize part of having cancer is so I can help others with their struggles with cancer.

I recently returned from the national conference for American Psychosocial Oncology Society (APOS).  APOS is a group of mental health professionals that focus on providing mental health care to cancer patients.  During the conference, I struggled with the transition from patient to clinician.  I went to the conference as a clinician but with each workshop, I found myself identifying more with the patients participating in the research.  However, as both a patient and clinician, I left the conference feeling inspired and hopeful for the future of oncology treatment.  I firmly believe that during my children’s lifetime the days of burning (radiation), slicing (surgery), and poisoning (chemotherapy) will not be the only treatment options for cancer patients.  I learned that cancer treatment is moving towards personalized care based on a tumor’s genetic makeup.  The conference was not solely focused on mental health aspects but overall care.  If treatment outcomes for cancer patients improve, the overall mental health of patients and their families would also improve.

Upon returning from my trip, I met with my boss and discussed the direction I wanted to go within the practice.  He asked me if I would be interested in working with clients with chronic illness.  He informed me about an upcoming meeting with MedStar, the largest healthcare provider in Maryland overseeing 10 hospitals.  I hope that this new contact will bring new opportunities and growth.  By now, I shouldn’t be amazed about how things happen for a reason, but each time they do and I connect the dots, I’m deeply humbled.

This Wednesday, Feb. 26, I have a CT scan.  The results will dictate my future treatment.  My treatment options may be four more months of poison (chemo), or the burning (radiation) of a spot in my right lung and the slicing (surgery) of my left lung, or all of the above.  Please keep me in your prayers.