Knock on Wood

Celebration, Joy, Living Life

Flag-football, one of my new delights

Short version: currently no cancer, slightly stoned.

Long version:

Tomorrow is 13 weeks since my HIPEC.

Two days ago, I ran 5 miles. It felt so, soooo good.

There. I got my humblebrag out the way.

It’s a very odd experience to feel so healthy and yet know that somewhere in there the cancer is lurking…

Since my last posting I have continued to improve and live in the moment.

A dear friend from middle and high school came out to visit with her husband. It was such a sweet week for me and my whole family.

I participated in a training (I was one of the trainers) at a middle-school in Seattle, introducing restorative practices and restorative circles. I love this work.

So we’ve had good news, via a convoluted route.

I had been feeling twinges of pain in my tummy that felt very similar to when the cancer was growing back at Christmas. I analyze every. little. twinge. These seemed different from run-of-the-mill HIPEC recovery. They woke me in the night and hurt just enough that any positivity vanished.

Then, three weeks ago, I had a scan and bloodwork. My first scan since surgery and since May, second set of bloodwork since surgery.

The scan reading (which I get immediately as a notification on my phone) said that there was significant improvement in the size of my liver lesions in the sub-capsular region.

And I thought: I wasn’t aware that I had any lesions in the sub capsular region of my liver. Ohmygod it’s new!

Then I went and cried into Matt’s chest. His chiseled pectoral muscles are the perfect height for catching my tears.

A new lesion didn’t fit with my cancer blood markers dropping.

I checked with Jenna, who diplomatically suggested I check with Shanthi (my oncologist) and Evan Ong, who did the HIPEC. But Jenna was also confused.

Shanthi was on holiday, so I emailed Evan Ong, who’s team responded with a request to set up a zoom meeting.

Then Shanthi called (holiday must have been pending) and told me that yes, the lesions had been there, and they had shrunk. And my blood markers had decreased. Scroll down, she said. It was good news, she said.

So I tried to scroll down, but the page didn’t continue. I couldn’t see where these lesions had been noted before.

In the meantime, I almost signed Joseph and Aubrey up for school, because I thought there was a very real possibility that, soon, I wasn’t going to be feeling well. The chemo had stopped working before my surgery, my cancer didn’t give me many options for immunotherapy, etcetera. More tears from all of us.

Then, for the second time, I was sent this website:

http://cannabishealthradio.com

In it are many, many interviews with people who seem to have gotten rid of their cancer (sometimes terminal, sometimes inoperable, sometimes stopped responding to chemo) via the use of very high doses of THC. THC is the psychoactive cannabinoid in marijuana.

So I listened to the stories and they are compelling. Would I be so attracted if I hadn’t gotten to the point, several times in the last 18 months, where I thought there was no hope? I don’t know. It’s easy to grab at straws. This much can be said: for the people for whom it works, it works really well.

Long story short, I have been purchasing large volumes of THC and have been administering them, also in large volumes, via homemade suppository.

I warned the neighbors, since their kids come over here a lot, and Joseph and Aubrey are also over there too. Um, so, I might be very stoned for the next several months. They were coolio. Understanding and supportive.

The useful thing about suppositories is that you don’t feel the effects as much as you do though an oral dose. A dose the size of the nib of a ball-point pen, if I take it orally, will get me very high. Unfortunately, I don’t like being high.

But via suppository, I am taking a whole milliliter (a gram) of the stuff, and I feel quite tired. Still largely functional. More grumpy, less patience. But not flat out.

So that’s been going on for almost three weeks.

The tummy pain I mentioned, I have not felt for about two weeks.

This afternoon, I had a call with Evan Ong. My old friend. Also present and supporting was Rachel, who updated you all while I was in hospital.

Evan told me that actually, the lesions that were noted on this latest scan aren’t lesions at all but are holes or indentations from where he removed cancer, now possibly filled with post-surgical fluid.

Even now, writing this out, my eyes screw up as I tried to find the holes (pun!) in his explanation which surely must really mean that my cancer is back and growing and awful and terrible and… You get the picture.

It’s very hard for me to take in positive information. I am so guarded now, it’s easier, in a way, to hear the bad news than it is to hear the good news. It’s more believable.

Rachel double checked that this was, in fact, good news. Yup.

That’s it?

That’s it.

So I will continue to live my dream of living. I will continue running, with my beloved four-legged running partner. I will continue yelling extremely and embarrassingly (and distractingly) loud for my children while they play flag-football. We will continue expressing our gratitude before our evening meal. I will continue loving my stud of a husband, continue lifting weights, continue trying and failing to not eat chocolate, and I will continue sharing Nonviolent Communication. Matt and I talked last night. We’re going to sign up for a half marathon somewhere. Just because we can. And I want to teach the kids to ride. Just have to locate some horses.

Some of those have just enough long-termness about them that it feels precarious.

But, right now, I have a real hope that I will see Aubrey’s 8th birthday and Joseph’s 10th. I almost want to delete that sentence because I don’t want to jinx myself. But if I delete it, it will jinx it again. Leaving it and writing the possibility of the jinx balances it all out.

Evan Ong even said something to the effect that he hopes he never has to see me again. He’s never been that positive before.

Fingers crossed. Knock on wood. Pray.