Tiny steps forward

I'm regaining my fighting spirit. My social worker commented on this transformation during our session earlier this week. Moving forward with a plan to tackle my cancer awakened my sense of action and purpose.

A warrior spirit is good because it pulls me up from the depressing, soul-sucking apathy of waiting and doing nothing. Oh, I know I'm healing, which is important, but my mind whispers warnings the delay allows the crafty cancer to gain a stronger toehold in me.

I was tackling the disease with the Regorafinib. My CT scans showed noticable shrinkage and my CA-125 level dropped significantly. But, despite its efficacy, it's not safe for me to take the drug again. So I must consider the other options.

My clinical trial nurse from Hamilton called yesterday to say Dr. H recommends I go back on chemotherapy - carboplatin plus either paclitaxol (the "gold standard" of ovarian cancer chemotherapy care) or gemcitibine, another proven chemo treatment. It's called "gentle gem" because of its milder side effects. But I'm not necessarily looking for mild, I want effective, potent and lethal to cancer cells.

Apparently, the P53 study is held up at the provincial level due to some wording in a consent form. While that sounds easy to resolve, I suspect the wheels of medical research administration move slowly. Then after the study is approved at the provincial level, each cancer centre must then seek the okay. Dr. H seemed to think this would only take a couple of weeks, but medical red tape and hospital bureaucracy will probably hold its start up longer than I'd like. While I'd prefer to also take this drug in conjunction with the chemotherapy, I don't think I can wait.

My next steps involve trying to get an appointment with Dr. W, the oncologist in London, who co-ordinates clinical trials. I suspect I'll hear back from the triage nurse today with an appointment for (hopefully) next week. London is also working to secure the P53 study, so during our meeting, I'll quiz him about timing and ask his opinion about my best treatment option.

But I suspect it'll be back to straight chemotherapy in London. I'll head back down the rabbit hole of darkness and experience the wide range of debilitating side effects. But I'll be beating the cancer back and reclaiming my body.

Maybe this is my path; how I'm supposed to treat my cancer this time. Perhaps it will create a window or an opportunity for a different experimental treatment - one that works - in the future. I have to trust in God and that everything happens for a reason.

I'm disappointed I'll be doing chemotherapy alone, since combining it with a new drug could prolong the cancer-free periods. But I will be working to beat this beast so I can enjoy time, and that's the most important thing.

My resolve is strong, but I'll need the support of my "village" to drag me up during the dark days. I know I can count on you.

Tina