Category Archives: CT Scans

Thinking outside the box – UPDATE

Thinking outside the box – UPDATE
Fourth of July fun at Z-Farm

The past few weeks have been an emotional roller coaster ride for my family, friends and me. Confirming that the malignant adenocarcinoma had returned to the head of my reconstructed pancreas and having my oncologist tell us without treatment we have just months would send any human being to a deep dark place.

Having survived the absolute most fatal cancer for eight years has truly been a miracle thanks to God, you my prayer warriors, my fantastic medical team of primary care doc, surgeons, radiologists, gastroenterologists, radiologists, oncologists and the PA’s and nurses who assist them at Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, FL.

But, realistically, we always knew there would be a day when the cancer would take over.

For a time we placed our complete trust in a non-approved trial drug Herceptin Hylecta (trastuzumab and hyaluronidase-ovsk) recently used as immunotherapy treatment for early breast cancer in HER2 positive patients, with great success I might add. Tests were run to determine the DNA of my tumor and provide the best possible match for the gene therapy. The prayer was that I might be the first pancreas cancer patient to receive the treatment…and that it would destroy the cells. That was truly our only hope.

When we asked if surgery could be performed to remove the tumor, the answer was no, there has not been success in the past with patients with similar medical situations. So truly our only hope was in the trial drug. So, we began the infusions.

Entering the chemo suites that familiar smell and feeling rushed over me like a bad dream. But, I knew this treatment would be different. My oncologist told me I would not lose my hair, I would not experience nausea but would possibly have a rash. A rash? I could surely handle that. But, it was just returning to this place I had avoided for two years, that sick feeling returned. I was happy to see a familiar face, a nurse who sat with me the entire infusion watching for adverse reaction but more importantly, chatting in light conversation.

As the test reports came in my case was presented by my oncologist to the Thursday tumor board, a group of up to eighteen Mayo docs from different departments. (Get a second opinion? Why when you have eighteen of the finest doctors in the world collaborating over your MRi’s, scans, blood work and pathology reports.)

One of the surgeons attending that day probably said, “Oh this is Judi, I am familiar with her case. She is the one who defies all of the norms with her PC.” But most importantly, he thought he had a solution. He presented his ideas to the board and they all agreed.

Shortly after the meeting my oncologist phoned. His excitement came right thru the phone as he explained what the surgeon was proposing. He told me surgery was being offered to me and to expect a call from Dr. Stauffer.

When Dr. Stauffer called I listened intently to his plan. He began by stating, “Judi, we need to think outside of the box with you.” He explained they would like to surgically remove the tumor, a suspicious lymph node behind the mesenteric artery as well as a lesion that had shown up for years on my liver, but had not grown in size in any of my scans. He said, if you agree to the surgery, I believe it can work.

My reaction was, “What have I got to lose?” He replied, “You have nothing to lose and life to gain.”

I have received two infusions to date and am scheduled for a third in early August. Scans and tests will be reviewed to check results of the infusions and to be used in the open surgery that will be performed August 17th.

Many of you are praying for me and as you have heard me say in the past, I truly believe this is the explanation I have for my survival. God is listening to your payers, and granting them. For this we are eternally grateful. So, again, I am asking for your prayers for the doctors and nurses on my care team to receive what they need to have a successful surgery. Again, not just for me but to make surgery a possibility for other PC warriors with resectable tumors.

Thankful for all of my prayer warriors and thankful for a surgeon who is willing to think outside the box.

November is Pancreatic Cancer Month…Podcast

November is Pancreatic Cancer Month…Podcast

In 2019 Leslie Bishop, Field Development – Boston Scientific< Inc. produced a podcast to be used during windshield time by employees designed to give a patients perspective on a pancreas cancer diagnosis and treatment.

Here is the first of two podcasts:

https://www.dropbox.com/s/z8jz7udua8wsxbq/Living while Dying_ Judy’s Story.mp3?dl=0

In 2020, Leslie revisited me to provide an update on my PC journey as a 6 .5 year survival.

https://www.dropbox.com/s/hqvr5f3oaobjbw1/Defying%20the%20Odds%20-%20Part%202%20with%20Judi%20Zitiello.mp3?dl=0

Waiting for the shoe to drop…

Waiting for the shoe to drop…

October 15th, 2019 was the last time I had a Gemzar Abraxane infusion (chemo therapy) for my pancreas cancer that had metastasized to my lungs. The decision to stop treatment was one I made prayerfully and on my own. As a six year survivor of a lethal cancer with a five year survival rate of single digits, this was a bold move.

My Mayo oncologist, Dr. Mody’s reaction to my decision was surprisingly positive. Last fall I was feeling the effects of prolonged treatment and could actually taste, smell and feel the chemo that had been a part of my life since July 2017 when it was discovered the cancer had moved to my lungs. But, I had become so fatigued and ill, he agreed I needed a break. The holidays were approaching and I wanted to be able to enjoy every moment with my family and most of all my grandchildren who asked when they walked into the house, “Mia, are you in bed today?”

In January of 2018, a CT scan revealed one of my numerous lung spots had doubled in size. It was recommended that chemo be administered every two weeks. So, for as many months I had endured the treatment that would produce flu like symptoms days after and keep me weakened and nauseous.

In mid October of 2019, I contracted an intestinal virus somehow that caused me extreme vomiting and diarrhea and landed me in the hospital for five days. However, the nausea continued after the virus subsided.

The oncologist described my condition beyond the virus as nausea brought on by prolonged chemotherapy…something in my head!

If you follow my blog you know I am a faith filled person. I consider myself to be strong and able to handle discomfort pretty well. While I know the dire statistics that come with this diagnosis, I face life with confidence that God is in control. He determines when He will call me home, not the doctors who treat me with the science He has given them.

I believe He has work for me to do to increase awareness and fight for much needed research that will one day find an early detection for this cancer that kills nearly 20% of us diagnosed within one year.

In the last six years my husband, family, doctors and close friends have supported me unconditionally. They have provided the care I need, whatever it might be, along each set back. God and they have seen me thru some very difficult times.

But, this cancer, that I now look at as a blessing in our lives, has given us so many positive changes. It has brought our family closer to God, closer to one another and also empowered us to start a foundation to fund important research that will result in a simple test that could be administered to patients presenting with family history, predisposition or early symptoms that have been dismissed in the past as other less serious digestive issues.

Every six to eight weeks I go to Mayo for scans and bloodwork to determine the status of my cancer. It is always a time of anxiety and concern as the date approaches. However, I have learned to listen to my body and believe that while I am feeling as good as I can, the cancer must still be at bay.

The last three scans have reported as “stable”. This means that the 13 spots in my lungs, while still evident and growing very slowly, are not at this moment out of control.

I chose to carry on and take in each breath enjoying my family and friends in gratitude for the life we have been blessed with so abundantly until the day …

…the shoe drops.

Scan Update

Scan Update
Scan Update

The holidays were really wonderful this year after taking a much needed three month break from chemo treatments. My last infusion was October 15th and the immediate reaction was extremely difficult. I began to have nausea and digestive issues, chill and fever that afternoon. Two days later I visited the ER for fluids and to attempt to stop the symptoms that were continuing. I was admitted and remained in semi-isolation for five days.

After many blood tests and digestive scans it was determined I had contracted some sort of viral infection. Liver enzymes were spiraling in the wrong direction and I was weak and losing weight.

Several IV antibiotics were prescribed and in a few days, as soon as the liver enzymes began the slow return, and the nausea and such stopped, they sent me home.

To say I was dreading the two week appointment for my next chemo treatment was no exaggeration. But, I headed to Mayo for bloodwork and my oncology appointment. As soon as Dr. Mody entered the consultation room I announced I was going to take a break from my treatments.

His reaction was welcomed. “Good”, he said, agreeing with my unusual non-compliance. “Let’s take a break till mid January and see what we need to do after a CT scan.”

We left his office in high spirits and Tom began to make holiday plans for a trip to NYC and our annual Christmas Eve Open House. I was ecstatic.

We filled the next three months with family fun, parties, trips and dinners. Within a few weeks, I was back to feeling almost normal. Well, better than I had in many months.

I tucked my fears deep and partied on, knowing full well I would have to face the CT scan in January and whatever results it would declare, I would have to accept.

Laying on the table during the scan I prayed that whatever God’s will for me would be, we would handle it. I have the best doctors in the field of oncology to lead me and several treatment plans both conventional and even a little experimental to choose from. But, I knew we would handle the news no matter what it was just as we always had with courage and strength found solely in our faith in God.

My blood work looked good, well better then it had, we only needed now to hear what Dr. Mody would reveal.

My son Scott and daughter Lindsay accompanied me to the appointment as Tommy, my Jospeh was unable to attend. He texted to let him know the results immediately. It was great to have them with me.

As Dr. Mody entered the room I felt a rush of worry. He rushed thru the “hello’s” and as his eyes met mine he said, ” The scan was stable. Everything looks the same.” My eyes filled with tears of joy and the kids both joined in my elation. Dr. Mody suggested we go two months before another scan and no chemo treatments.

Had I continued my treatments I would not have been able to make the sweet memories our family and friends shared during this holiday season. I was once again thankful to God who had lead me to this bold decision.

Prayer is powerful. Family, friends, everyone was praying for me. I knew by the texts and phone calls I received they were lifting me up.

My Jospeh and I count our life in increments of weeks and months, choosing to be grateful for even the days we are able to be together. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if everyone lived this way? After all, none of us are promised tomorrow.

Thanking God for His favor and for my family and friends who battle with me every step of this journey.

I tucked my fears deep and partied on, knowing full well I would have to face the CT scan in January and whatever results it would declare, I would have to accept.

Christmas – Chemo vacation

Christmas – Chemo vacation

The metallic taste and the nausea would begin the moment I thought about my upcoming chemo infusion appointment. Don’t get me wrong, Mayo does everything to make the experience relaxing and comfortable with their individual chemo suites complete with a sofa and table for a guest or two and a large smart TV complete with library of about fifty or more top movies /series including The Mayo Clinic – Faith-Hope- Science, a film based on the PBS documentary by acclaimed filmmaker Ken Burns and his associates Erik Ewers and Christopher Loren Ewers. But, it still wasn’t enough to take the feeling away from the poison dripping slowly into my surgically implanted port, working its way into the chambers of my heart and disbursing throughout my body, seeking out those pancreatic cancer cells it was intended to destroy. I truly could taste it smell it and, after 14 months of chemo, I dreaded it.

Truth is, I had somehow contracted a viral infection days before my last infusion October 15, 2019. My already compromised body now was taking on a chemo cocktail that would make a healthy body sick. But we had no way of knowing. The bloodwork taken prior to the chemo prescription being prepared didn’t show anything unusual. As soon a I returned home from my infusion I became ill. This was not my typical routine. The nausea had never come on strong and hard the first day. It was always sort of building and hit hard around the third day after.

Two days later I was admitted into the hospital in semi-isolation to determine the source of my nausea and digestive issues. Five days later I went home only when my liver enzymes reported they were heading in the right direction. Doctors agreed it was a viral infection. It took another three weeks for me to recover. I had lost my appetite and about 12 pounds and was weak from being in bed.

Whatever it was….I didn’t want to experience it again. In just a few days I was scheduled to have chemo again. I could taste it and feel it and was dreading it already.

November 11th I was scheduled and dutifully reported for my blood work and oncology consult with Dr. Mody. But, as soon as he walked into the consultation room, I told him I had made a decision…I was not going to be taking chemo today. I was taking a break. he smiled and said “Good.”

His reaction was just what I hoped it would be. Medically we both knew I should be taking it, however, emotionally I just couldn’t do it. I think he saw that too.

We agreed to schedule a CT Scan mid January. That would give me a three month break. I could enjoy Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years with our big family. It was perfect.

And, enjoy we did. Grocery shopping, planning the Thanksgiving meal, Tom’s Dad coming down from Cleveland, it was great. Then Christmas decorating, cookie decorating, shopping, wrapping and celebrating, a quick trip to NYC, holiday parties and family, family, family. We were overjoyed.

What will happen January 17th with the CT Scan? Only God knows. We trust that He will lead us to the perfect decision of what treatment, if any we will choose. Until then, I will enjoy feeling whole and not missing out on one moment of one day.

Thank you for this time precious Jesus.

Thomas and Olive
Grandpa, Lindsay Mick and Jude – TPC Tree Lighting
Christmas Decorating
Hudson Yards Lunch
Scotty, Blake, Taylor, Abby, Olivia and Tommy – PVIC Christmas Eve
Taylor, Tommy, Mia, Jayden, Olivia and Abby
Del Frisco’s
Family dinner

I choose to believe God…

I choose to believe God…

They say that pancreas cancer tumors rarely disappear with chemo. Usually the best you can ask for is a stable scan where no new tumors develop and the ones you have don’t show any significant growth. Well, the two images above are a comparison from six weeks ago to yesterday after I completed my chemotherapy regimen of Abraxane and Gemcitabine. The 2.5cm tumor on the right is ALMOST gone.

My oncologist, Dr. Mody did not perform a biopsy on the tumor to determine unequivocally it was pancreas cancer. The pathology reports from the lung resections had confirmed pancreas cancer mets, but some of the tumors may have been benign. We will never confirm scientifically that this tumor was or was not of pancreas cancer origin. But, we do know it almost disappeared thanks to the chemo treatment.

I believe that God heard the prayers of you, His faithful servants. I believe He has more work for me to do. I believe I have been given more time, and I plan to use it to honor and glorify Him every single day.

In two weeks I will begin another chemo treatment plan to hopefully take care of the rest of that tumor. I am so thankful for your positive thoughts and prayers.

They are working.

The ticking time bomb…

The ticking time bomb…

Every six weeks we face a CT scan and MRI to determine what is happening deep within my lungs with the tumors that were discovered to be metastasized pancreas cancer in late June 2018. Blood work is drawn and can be a precursor for activity of the tumors, but not always. The anticipation we endure is indescribable. It is like living with a ticking time bomb in your body, never knowing when the bomb will go off.

Today the bomb went off. One of the newest tumors in my left lung doubled in size in just six weeks.

The other eight tumors in my right lung remained stable. But now there are two or three in my left lung and Dr. Ko remarked that “the one that grew pretty significantly is concerning.”

My cancer mets are now considered “progressive”.

Now we face decision time. What are our treatment options we ask our radiology oncologist who specializes in lung disease? Dr. Ko works side by side with my hematology oncologist to guide us. His answer today was a possible targeted therapy that would focus on eradicating the tumor with radiation. The plus side is the treatment would offer limited side effects with only a five percent chance of effecting my lung capacity. And, it would not effect my quality of life, which to this time has been amazingly good. The down side is it will not effect the other tumors whatsoever. After the targeted radiation therapy we would typically wait six more weeks for a CT scan. Now that the cancer is progressive, it is impossible to determine if the other tumors will begin to grow as well.

Between appointments we visited our church to talk to God about the latest development and to pray for strength and courage and discernment to make the right decisions. He never disappoints. We both left the church feeling a peaceful calm. Thank goodness we have our faith.

The second option is aggressive chemotherapy. this would in fact attempt to eradicate all the tumors and hopefully make some disappear, the others to shrink. But, the downside is the side effects of aggressive therapy. My quality of life for eight weeks and a few beyond would suffer.

So what do we do?

My amazing husband has two trips planned. One, an annual trip to Vegas for Super Bowl and a Lady Gaga concert…and a trip to Southern California to accompany him to a trade show in late March. Will I be able to make these trips we ask? Dr. Mody studies the calendar and comes up with some dates. It looks like we can make this work.

I tolerated the chemo regimen very well the first time, no reason to think I won’t this time. I might be a little tired, but I know I can make it. I won’t let this stop me from living my best life.

We begin chemo on Saturday. Thank you Jesus!

I hope I can make it to Lady Gaga…

Is it working?

Is it working?

The alarm sounded at 6AM and I sat up slowly in bed. Our CT scan was scheduled for 7:25. I showered and applied the lidocaine cream to my port longing for a cup cf creamy hot coffee. But not this morning. At least not until after the scan. I reached for two of the oblong orange chemo pills careful not to touch them, I swallowed hard as they traveled down my throat on a mission of destruction. Today we would determine if the drug was doing its’ job. We would know if it was working. We would learn if prayers were answered.

Tom dressed in his familiar purple Jude’s Dudes tee shirt and cream colored shorts. I found something light and comfortable knowing it would be a warm fall day. We continued with our familiar routine, fed the dog, checked the doors and left the house just as the sun was beginning to peak thru. We were silent in the car as we both wondered how the day would unfold. Would we return home with good news or bad news. It was always that same aching feeling inside.

Four years, six months, seven days we have lived with this cloud hovering overhead. Scans every three months were always the same. Some small pain would appear a few weeks approaching the date. Could it be the return of the beast? Well, this time was a bit different. We knew the beast had returned. Now we faced a different set of concerns. And they were more defining. They were more worrisome. What was happening deep within my body that would predict how the next three months would be spent.

Trips were planned, holidays were approaching. Our favorite time of year to gather to celebrate with our four children and their husbands and wives, and our eight and a half grand children…our extended family and friends. Would Tommy be making the flight and hotel reservations for our Thanksgiving trip? Would I be strong enough to enjoy all the plans? That question would be answered in a few short hours. But, for now, happiness swung in the balance.

We parked the car and walked toward the hospital hand in hand as we always do, entered and took the elevate to the second floor. The line was already long. It seemed lately the hospital was filled with more people then ever. We checked in and took a seat near the double doors. About half and hour later a nurse called my name and I left Tom and followed her thru the doors and back to a small treatment room. Her tray was prepared as I took a seat in the lounge chair marked ” Clean for use”. The nurse who recognized me was wide eyed and smiling as she shared how hard the weekend transition from Daylight savings time had been for her children.. everyone up far too early. She handed me a paper mask as she prepared to clean the area around my port with alcohol and unsealed the power port access needle. We continued to talk until she said , “OK take a deep breath.” I felt the needle puncture the port and tasted the saline solution as she flushed to make sure we had a good access. She placed a clear plastic shield over the port and taped the access tube in place. “There, you are all set.” Just like every time before. “You can return to the waiting room. Just drink these two glasses of contrast, the second glass to this line.” As she escorted me to the lobby.

I rejoined Tom and we sat looking at the people in the crowded room from the sickest to the healthiest. Some in wheelchairs, some coughing with tubes and oxygen tanks. Some speaking foreign languages….some looking perfectly healthy. But, you wonder…why are they here and knowing they were wondering the same thing about us.

About half an hour later a man called my name. I recognized his voice. He’s the one on the taped recording ….”Take a deep breath in …and hold it”. I had seen him before and he recognized me too. We made our way back thru the hallway to the room that held the large white circular tube that would determine my fate. He offered me a heated blanket as he instructed me to lay on the narrow bed that would slide into the tube. He hooked me up to the small tube that would inject the contrast at one point during the procedure. I raised my hands above my head as he looped the tiny tube around my fingers above my head. “Ah, you know the drill.” And before I knew it the machine was humming and I lay alone in the room with that machine.

The scan only takes about ten minutes thankfully. As soon as I was finished and unhooked I walked back toward Tommy. A large hot English Breakfast tea would soon be in my hands. We would eat breakfast before the test results and our meeting with our Radiology Oncologist at 10:25AM who would give us the answers we have been waiting for. Dr. Ko was the one who had been graphing the nodes since he found the first one in my lungs two years ago. The ones he swore were treatable early onset lung cancer.

We returned to the hospital and made our way to the first floor radiology department and checked in at the desk. We sat on the wall near the brass bell. The one the patients ring when they complete their final radiation treatment. The one I had rung four years ago. It wasn’t long before our friendly nurse Laurie escorted us back, took my vitals and asked me general questions, “Are you in pain, what is the level of pain one to ten.” etc.etc. “Dr. Ko is behind today, I apologize for the wait, but he’ll be with you soon.”

The first few minutes when he entered the room I was fearful. But, he held a paper in his hand with several notes he had made upon reviewing my scan. “it appears the node in your left lung has disappeared” The right lung nodes are stable with even the largest one reducing in size.” “No more new nodes.” My eyes began to tear up. “So, the chemo pills are working?” I asked. “Yes, they are doing just what we hoped they would do.”

I really didn’t hear much of the conversation he and Tommy had beyond that. My heart leaped with joy. I felt like the sunshine had just appeared and I felt light headed. It was better news than I had prayed for.

Was it the healing ministry prayers, my bible study prayer warriors, my family and friends who had texted me that morning. God had graced us once again with good news, with another three months of reprieve. Cancer wasn’t going to rain on our holidays this year. We said our thankful prayers to God as we sat alone together. “Lord, you continue to favor us with your grace. We give you the complete glory for this and we pray that others see this example and are filled with your Holy Spirit.

Yes, it is working.

Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.” Mark 10:27/NIV

Another miracle?

Another miracle?

The next thought after your doctor shares with you the terrifying news that you have a mass or a tumor your mind goes on defense mode. Or at least that is what happened for me. A defense mechanism seemed to take over. “Surely it is not cancer”. “Can I die?” Maybe you were like me and truly didn’t see this coming. You may never seriously have thought about trying to wrap your mind around those chilling words. You might think it couldn’t happen to me.

It has been four years and four months since my doctor informed me of the mass that had taken residence in the head of my pancreas and slowly over who knows how many years it grew until it was large enough to make it’s presence known. Appointments many specialist, CT scans, blood work, MRI’s, surgeries that lasted nine and a half hours, chemo, radiation, drains, ports, biopsies, more scans and more surgeries, and countless glasses of clear contrast….but, thankfully I am still here and I am feeling very good.

Adenocarcinoma is the deadliest form of pancreas cancer. Unfortunately, pancreas cancer is the one that is clinically and scientifically least understood. In 2018 doctors cannot predict how these cells will act. Yet, the diagnosis of pancreas cancer is up twenty to thirty percent I heard someone say. According to PanCan.org it is scheduled to be the number two cancer killer by 2020 beating out breast cancer for the number three slot in 2017. No longer does the diagnosis appear for the 70 year old smoker typically male. It has joined the other fatal cancers that refuse to discriminate between gender or age or social behavior. What will it take to bring attention to this silent killer that creeps into more and more bodies every day?

Statistics say only nine percent of those diagnosed with pancreas cancer will live five years. Looks like I might make it to April 29th, 2019. But, the cancer is back. This time it has taken residence in my lungs. About eighteen months ago I had one small spot in my lung. Today I have eight. If you count the three that were removed from my left lung late June, that would make eleven. They say I should be able to live at least two more years before the tumors begin to impede my oxygen supply, and I am counting on it.

But, there are options that can POSSIBLY shrink those tumors and most importantly stop more from forming. Chemotherapy could possibly do this for me. But, at what cost? If you read the side effects, they warn of fatigue, loss of appetite, diarrhea, vomiting, rash and/or yellowing of the skin, possible hair loss, weight loss…

I no longer have thoughts of “Maybe it’s not cancer.” Pathology has proven by my DNA it is in fact return of pancreas cancer. But, I do have hope in a drug that targets cells that grow and divide quickly. Unlike surgery or radiation, this drug is so toxic it also attacks healthy cells, like those of the skin, hair, intestines, and bone marrow. But, it is a drug that could give me more precious moments of time. Time with my family and friends. Time to see my new grand babies and those babies of my children’s best friends. The children I have watched grow into adults right before my eyes. Precious time.

When I visited my oncologist after my scan last week he recommended I consider Capecitabine, a chemo drug in pill form taken twice daily. My Joseph asked would I be able to travel on this drug. “Everyone reacts a little differently to it.” doctor said. “I am strong and tolerated chemo quite well last time.” I jumped in. “Only one time did my blood work require half a dose in the entire six months of my treatment.” “Take home the information and think about it.” Dr. Mody said. I responded….”I will be praying about it.”

Sunday morning Tom, his Father and I sat in a tiny wooden pew at St. Patricks Cathedral in NYC. Cardinal Doolan was the celebrant followed by four priests and several alter servers. Fortunately for us it was the service with music. What sounded like a choir of angels sang from the loft at the rear of the church as the huge organ pulsed its deep bass tones.

I was sure of it…I will begin the chemo this week.I have to take a chance this drug will hold those tumors at bay. I need more time, and I am asking God to grant it, another miracle.

Hearing this, Jesus said to Janius, “Don’t be afraid; just believe, and she will be healed.” Luke 8:50/NIV

St. Anthony patron saint of miracles

I got a “Save the Date”

I got a “Save the Date”

Yesterday I had a CT scan as a follow up after my last appointment confirming the beast had returned…I now have pancreas cancer mets to my lungs 100% confirmed. My radiology oncologist entered the room with a piece of paper, my scan report from the radiologist.

On the paper he had numbered 8 entries. Each entry documented the slide number where a nodule showed up and in comparison to the last scan..how much it had increased in size in those six weeks. When I had the lung resection in late June I had 8 nodules. They removed 3. My math skills are pretty good, so that would leave me with 5 right? Well, at the last appointment they said there was a new nodule in the left lung…that would be a total of 6. And now there are 8!

Only three out of eight nodules had shown slight growth, one, more than the other two. My head was swimming. It seemed there was always an increase in the numbers. Dr. Ko explained “these nodules are just not acting like pancreas cancer. They are not completely round and they are not growing rapidly like most pc tumors grow. They are still acting like lung cancer nodules. But, we have the DNA reports that conclude they are in fact of pancreas cancer origin.”

These visits are mentally exhausting. We hang on every word coming from his lips. “What is your recommendation for treatment?” my Joseph asks. “Can we just remove them all by radiation?” The doctor hesitates as he forms his response carefully. “That would not be safe and I believe it would not change the outcome. I will defer to your oncologist who might suggest chemotherapy, however, your quality of life is so good at this moment…none of your doctors wants to change that. Go out live your life..do everything you want to do while you are feeling good. That would be my recommendation.”

“How will these nodules progress? What will happen when they grow? ” we asked. “They will grow (and multiply) to where they press on the oxygen sources inhibiting breathing. We truly can’t predict when that would happen but based on the tracking we have done..two years.”

My faith tells me that this is what the doctor must tell me based on science. He is doing his job. He can’t turn to me and say without equivication it is up to God, not science how long you will survive. I know he has no idea of what God’s plan is for my life and nor do I. My sister Carmen always reminds me..”Just cause the doctors say it doesn’t make it so.”

We agreed to discuss with our oncologist going back on the three month scan schedule due to the continued slow growth. Tom looked at me with a smile on his face and said excitedly… ” That takes us to Napa for the fall crush, NYC for the Thanksgiving Parade with the babies and then Christmas.” We smiled at the thought.

When the recurrence was confirmed I received a save the date from Jesus. How lucky am I? I have the warning most don’t ever receive. I look at the picture of Olive who is approaching her second birthday on New Years Day. Mick was two years old in late May. I will cherish every moment of every day. Who knows, God might figure I have so much more work I can do to make a difference in this cancer that He leaves me here a little longer. Nothing about my cancer has been short of miraculous. Why should I believe it will be any different now?

If you received a warning that your life was ending soon would you live it any differently? Please think about that and make sure you enjoy every day and you share with others what is in your heart.

Today we meet with my oncologist, Dr. Mody. I bet he will concur no treatment yet. At least that is what we are hoping for.

Joseph said to his brothers, ” I am about to die, but God will surely take care of you and bring you up from this land to the land which He promised on oath to Abraham, to Isaac and to Jacob”. Genesis 50:24