Ch-ch-ch-changes, pt. 1

Part 1: The appointment details

Part 2: The plan

Last week was, as my friend put it “a shitty fucking week.” I was back in Boston only one week after my last visit, this time with an arsenal of appointments that were going to give me answers as to why I was experiencing fevers, a cough, and now near constant aches/pains. I was having a scan to look at my bones, a scan to examine my liver, an appointment with an infectious disease doctor, an appointment with a pulmonologist, blood work and more blood work, and a visit with my own oncology team. It was a lot! On top of this, I didn’t have Andrew with me, but I wasn’t alone — friends came from NH and MA to be with me even when I didn’t know I needed someone. That part was so nice. 

Tuesday was my longest day with most of my appointments at the Longwood Dana Farber, but one scan at the Chestnut Hill Dana Farber in the middle of the day. My friend was there though, to drive me back and forth, and all over Boston if I needed it. I started at Longwood, went to Chestnut Hill, and then back again to Longwood. 

Nuclear medicine bone scan injection. This is housed in a lead container and I am in a concrete walled room to protect everyone from radioactive contamination, yet this is what they are injecting into my body.

The specialists I met with had looked at my chart and notes and had spoken to my oncologist before I arrived. After talking to me, the infectious disease doctors decided to rule out any type of tick related illness. Living in New England definitely comes with its share of terrible tick related illnesses that go beyond Lyme disease. Turns out, I don’t have any infectious diseases. Great, thats a lot of things ruled out. The pulmonologist ran through a lot of questions and took me for a walk with an oximeter. He agreed with the what we saw last time I was there, I have strong lungs. But one thing that came up was my heart rate — literally. My resting heart rate was 133. That’s really high. And when I was walking it was in the 150’s. I was getting winded, but not short of breath. I was coughing from time to time, but it didn’t seem to have anything to do with my lungs. The pulmonologist said he wanted to rule out at PE, or a blood clot, before I flew again. The likelihood of a PE was low, but they are very dangerous. Okay, that’s good too, more information.

Scan time!

The scans I had on Tuesday were going to hold my answers though, I knew that. So of course when the radiologist report was released to my patient portal, before I saw my oncologist, I read them. I can’t wait, I’m way too impatient. And I was right, the bone scan showed old bone lesions that were active and a handful of new lesions in my skull, scapulas, hips, and femurs. And that freckle, only a week before that was on my liver and was undetermined by CT to be metastatic or not? Yeah, that turned out to be a lot of liver lesions, ill-defined and spread throughout both lobes. BOOM! Progression. I was shook. 

As much as I knew this would be coming someday, I wasn’t really thinking someday would be now. My last scans before I left for Denmark looked great, so how could this all happen so fast? Those fevers started at the beginning of July, but to have that much progression while on treatment seems crazy! My oncologist thinks the liver lesions were brewing for a while and that the CT never picked them up. My previous bloodwork didn’t indicate anything really wrong either because the medication I was on causes slightly elevated liver enzyme levels, which I had had for a few months. And if you remember my tumor markers were increasing for a while too, but if we can’t see something, then we can’t treat something we cannot see. So, as much as there were some signs that something was happening in my body, nothing was an obvious “clean up on isle 9” situation, it was definitely a watch and wait, like a sitting duck. 

Again, friends showed up for me when I didn’t know I wanted or needed them– with welcome distractions of good food, comic relief, a listening ear, and thoughtful conversations. I am okay with being alone and I hate being a burden on anyone, so it’s hard for me to say “Yes” when I am offered help. But my friend’s persistence paid off 🙂

On Thursday I went in for my oncology appointment. Dr. Tolaney said first thing “Lindsay (my NP) and I discussed and we think you have probably looked at your scan results already.” Yes, they know me, they know I’m not passive when it comes to this stuff. So instead of delivering the news of progression to me, she jumped right into a treatment plan. I stopped her a little while into the conversation and asked her to go over the scans because although I knew I had progression, I wanted to have my hand held and for her to slow down. This was happening really fast!

She slowed down, answered my questions, but ultimately it came down to this: something happened quickly in my body and we need to get the cancer under control as soon as possible. The treatment she advised me to start will get me back on to treatment ASAP and it will allow me to be in Denmark most of the time. I am off my trial and back into the standard of care model, for now. 

There’s a lot of minutia that I won’t go into here, but I am still waiting on those meds. I hated leaving Dana Farber without them. Insurance is being its own beast and now that I am off trial they will have to start paying for things like medications, scans, bloodwork, and biopsies. As much as I hate the cancer battle metaphor, I believe that dealing with insurance is a battle and really becomes a part time job. So, as I am writing this I am still off treatment and I am still experiencing fevers, a cough, and pain. Things are in the works to hopefully change that very soon.

Remember that racing resting heart rate? On Friday morning, I had another CT to rule out the PE, all good there. I can fly again. But it turns out I was anemic. Racing heart, major fatigue, and dizziness with physical exertion, but breathing just fine? Those are all symptoms of anemia, and not the kind where I can just eat more meat or legumes. Dr. Tolaney thinks the cancer may be active in the bone marrow itself which is making it so that I’m not producing enough red blood cells on my own. After my Friday morning CT, I got to have two units of blood transfused. That was WILD and also the benefits have been so amazing. 

Our apartment in Denmark is 72 stairs up, without a lift. Before the blood transfusion I was taking breaks to get up the stairs and by the time I got to the top by pulse was HIGH and felt like I was going to pass out. After the blood transfusion I can take the stairs now without much issue at all. It feels SO good! I have no clue how long the effects will last, but as hesitant as I was to get a blood transfusion, I am no more! Give me all the blood!

Blood transfusions are magical. I was so nervous about getting it done, and it turns out, I would feel so much better afterwards. 

There were so many emotions, ups and downs last week. It will take me a while to recover from it all. But one thing I know for sure, I had so much support last week. How can I ever express my gratitude for all of those folks and organizations that stepped up to help me, even when I didn’t know I would need it? Thank you for holding me and riding this wave with me. I appreciate you more than words can express. 

10 thoughts on “Ch-ch-ch-changes, pt. 1

  1. Hannah, I just want you to be able to enjoy Denmark!! And I want all this cancer shit to GO the F___K AWAY!!! There. I said it. I say my prayers for your comfort and healing all day long. So enjoy your fresh blood, go have a piece of lovely Danish cake (I adore the kind with cream in the middle and marzipan all over the top…I remember it from Sweden) and a warm cup of tea. We love you and your family so much. Ollie loves you all too! I believe in the power of you, love and science. You will prevail!!! HUGS from the Maple Street neighborhood! Power on Hannah…you got this. As you prevail, enjoy Denmark. Holding you in the light…luv Ruth et al

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  2. yep, I get the part time job ‘thang… sigh…. Jane Fonda tweeted about being in the cancer club, last week, referring to cancer as a great teacher, and, while I agree, I also have to say, *sometimes* we students just wanna quit class! thank you, as always, for taking the time to spell this all out. Here we are. big hugs. and, I can be one of those folks in Boston, one of these next times!

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  3. Hannah, you are incredibly brave and strong. Sending much hope, love, and strength to you and your family. Hang in there woman!

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  4. Hannah, you are so incredibly strong and brave. We are sending you all the love, strength and support your way. We are here for you! Hang in there.

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