Category Archives: Scanxiety

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.

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

Medicine….a science

Medicine….a science

Today they call me a miracle. Everyone remarks how healthy I appear. They tell me, “You look great.” They know what I faced four years ago, how close I was to death. Yet, today I am feeling good, able to function very well and look like I am in perfect health. I give God the glory for each day I can babysit my grandchildren, or look my husband in the eye when he asks me, “How do you feel today honey? “and truthfully say…”I feel good.”

Sharing sunflowers with my Olive.

There is much to say about medicine today, the strides that have been made in cancer, in cardio vascular health, in treatment and surgical techniques. So much progress…yet…so much more to discover. New ills present themselves. New strains of bacterial infections that even our strongest antibiotics can’t suppress. Health evolves based on food sources and environmental conditions. What we consume is bad for us one day…good the next. It is difficult for all of us to keep up.

We strive toward a more healthy lifestyle. We eat organic and monitor our steps and activity. We focus on quality of life as we approach old age. Often an age most of our grandparents never believed they could reach.

They call medicine a science. I never really understood how true that is. Run a test, processes of elimination. Is it this? Could it be that? It is likely to be this. Percentages are bantered about like so many tennis balls.

“You have these nodes in your lungs we have been observing for eighteen months now.” “They are slow growing, but two or maybe three of them are concerning.”

Started with two now there are eight.

Tommy and I have learned so much about pancreas cancer since we started on this journey April 29th, 2014. We know how difficult it is to detect. We know after it has attacked the pancreas it typically moves on to the liver the lungs or the brain.

“Let’s do a biopsy.” We need to determine if these spots are lung cancer or metastasized pancreas cancer. If it is lung cancer, it is highly treatable. If it is mets of pc…we have an entirely different ball game. Lung cancer….the number one cancer killer…lung cancer. I am praying these nodes are lung cancer. The biopsy, so difficult a procedure to locate that less than a centimeter node and extract tissue from it, came back negative for cancer.

But you say they are cancer, just not 100% sure what type?

When Tommy, Abby and I were in Washington DC advocating for funding for pancreas cancer with PanCan we attended several breakout sessions where we listened to clinicians, researchers who are working hard to learn all they can about how a normal cell progresses into a full blown pancreas cancer cell.

On the screen in the room appeared two images. The left was a slide filled with breast cancer cells. The various sizes of maybe fifty pinkish red cells were jammed into the space. To the right of that image was another slide filled with pancreas pinkish tan cancer cells. There might have been five. So, you are sticking a needle into the tumor to extract these cells to determine what type of cancer it is. What if you miss the cells altogether? A false negative biopsy would result.

But, when it means life or death….how should you feel about that?

Precancerous cells are found in everyones bodies. When they will begin to mutate into cancer is not predictibe.

The only way to determine what these nodes truly are is to remove the ones that are solidly formed and look at them under a microscope.

I have cancer in my body and I need to know it is not the beast….it is not pancreas cancer that has now invaded my lungs. June 26th we will head to surgery.

I am praying for lung cancer. Yes, I am praying for lung cancer.

God is in control. He knows best what the outcome will be. But, we are prepared for whatever His will for us is.

“Trouble, trouble, trouble….Sometimes I swear it feels like this worry is my only friend”

“Trouble, trouble, trouble….Sometimes I swear it feels like this worry is my only friend”

ServPro So Jacksonville and Arlington golf event to benefit Champions for Hope

ServPro So Jacksonville and Arlington golf event to benefit Champions for Hope

Apprehension is building to the date of that dreaded scan.The March and June scans revealed spots on my lungs that my oncologist, Dr. Johnson said the chance of a reoccurrence of my pancreatic cancer could be 3 or 4 on a scale of 1-10.

With my husband out of town our daughter Lindsay and her baby boys joined me the entire day at Mayo in June as I checked off my schedule of appointments. 8AM blood work on the chemotherapy floor, because they know how to access my port without pain. 12:30 drink the contrast liquid down about 1/2 an hour before the 5 minute CT scan. Then afternoon appointments, allowing for the radiology department to read the scans and write their findings then meeting with my oncologist who will review the labs and CT scan report and give us the results. Then another appointment with my Radiology-oncologist for his take on the reports. They attempt to schedule both docs appointments back to back so there is no waiting for that thumbs up from everyone and we can get on with our lives, at least for three more months anyway.

That is how we live our lives in this family, at three month intervals.

According to the doctor those 3 or 4 or more “lit up” nodules grew in size from March to June, but remained under 1cm and too small to go thru the pain of collapsing my lung to biopsy them. I had a case of pneumonia early in spring. Could that have had anything to do with this I asked? My radiology oncologist was more positive than the oncologist. He said it could be lung cancer, which would be better for me than a metastatic pancreatic cancer.

Lindsay quipped on the way home in the car, “Here we are praying it is lung cancer. Something just seems wrong about that.”

Jaguars "Meet me on the 50"  night.

Jaguars “Meet me on the 50” night.

My amazing husband planned fun trips for us during the three months. One week in Cleveland to visit family and catch the Cavs’ Championship ring ceremony. That turned in to game two of the World Series with the Cleveland Indians and the Chicago Cubs. What at week. Then we had baby showers and Jacksonville Jags games and of course my work with both foundations. They would keep me as busy as possible so I could not have time to think about the grey cloud that was hovering just above me.

The LAND.....Cleveland ROCKS

The LAND…..Cleveland ROCKS

Purple Stride – Jacksonville Beach….

The D'Errico's turn out in full support of Jude's Dude's Purple Stride 2016

The D’Errico’s turn out in full support of Jude’s Dude’s Purple Stride 2016

Oh, and then hurricane Matthew and an evacuation!

Hurricane Matthew - evacuation to Poppas warehouse. 12 adults and 9 dogs....fun fun fun

Hurricane Matthew – evacuation to Poppas warehouse. 12 adults and 9 dogs….fun fun fun

Not much time to think about possibilities. There is no reason to worry, God is in control. I know that He has much work for me to do. I believe He has given me this time to help others with raising awareness of this lethal cancer that tries to steal life, laughter and love from it’s next target. But, not today PC. Today I am thankful for my cancer. We have a new outlook on everything thanks to this diagnosis, surgery and treatment. Our family has grown closer, we hug friends a little tighter, we look at the world thru our God eyes recognizing His “winks” along the way. And, we see His hand in preparing us for this time going back years to careers, friendships and moves. He had a plan all along. And, we have no idea when that plan will end, not one of us. So, I am grateful for each day, each person in my life and each breath. I hope when I am face to face with Him, I can look directly into those gentle eyes and say, “I did my best.”

Will I be here for……

Will I be here for……

Jude's Main Dude

Jude’s Main Dude

The local greeting card store was not busy as I entered. It was time to buy some cards for the late fall birthdays approaching. The owner, recognizing me as a frequent customer, smiled at me and said “hello”. I nodded and kept walking toward the birthday section.

Should I buy just one card for my daughter and my sons? Or, should I buy several, sign them and put them away? I could tell them what I would want them to know, some tidbit of wisdom I had gathered from years of experience fitting for that time of life. This seemed like a great idea…until I started to read the cards.

After choosing a beautiful card for my daughter, I began to read the text, my eyes filled up with tears. This was going to be far more difficult than I had expected. The idea was loosing its appeal.

Suddenly, the store manager was approaching asking if she could help me find what I was looking for. She noticed my tears and sweetly asked if I was okay.

I had been strong for so long in front of my family and friends about this cancer thing. Suddenly the flood gates had opened and this poor lady stood before me.

One of the reasons I loved this store was because the owner and most of the sales ladies were Christians. They were so loving and kind and always sure to say “have a blessed day” as you left.

I figured the owner deserved some sort of explanation. I certainly couldn’t lie. So, out it came. “I am battling pancreatic cancer and I am not sure how long I will be around, so I was thinking of buying cards, signing them and putting them away.” Like and angel sent from God, she wrapped her arms around me and cried softly with me.

Then she began to pray over me. It was so comforting. We stood there in the birthday aisle for several minutes, until I had collected myself. I told her this might not be the right time to do this. She agreed. “Give it some more thought and you will know when you are ready.”

18 months have passed since my diagnosis, surgery, treatment, and 4 clear CT scans. I am currently cancer free. The PC statistics are not in my favor, but, I am feeling great and positive about the near future.

One thing I do know for certain, I am thankful I trust a God who loves me and protects me and sends His angels to hold me up when I need it, even a clerk in the greeting card store.