Drop Dead Pink: Blog

Today I finally said "NO" to surgery and chemotherapy.

Today was supposed to be the day of my surgery. For the past few weeks, I've been getting prepped up for my operation, which is a procedure called Splenectomy, where the surgeons will remove my spleen. I've been getting all my needed vaccinations, and my hematologist has made arrangements with the hospital's blood bank to make sure there's a lot of blood available for me during my surgery. Everything has been organized to make sure everything would go as smoothly and as perfectly as possible. Everything's ready.

But yesterday, I had this moment of clarity. It came to me so suddenly and so clearly. For the first time, I felt with such compelling conviction that if I did the surgery, it would be the start of my decline. I felt it and I knew it. Surgery will trigger my decline, and the chemotherapy that will soon follow is going to kill me. There has to be another way.

So today, with as much courage I could muster, I went to the hospital supposedly to get checked in for surgery, but instead, I talked to my doctor and told her I am canceling everything. I've never been so fearful in my life as in that moment. I was afraid that she would disapprove and scold me. But mostly I was afraid she would try to persuade me to go through with it and that I wouldn't be strong enough to resist. Surprisingly, she wasn't angry. However she did try to convince me that I was making a mistake. But I stood firm in my decision and told her to give me some time. Time was all I asked. Time to search and try a different method of treatment. And if all else failed, I will let the doctors do whatever they wanted with me. She understood. She said she didn't approve, but that it was ultimately the patient's choice that will prevail.

After that meeting, I went home feeling lighthearted. I could feel all my anxiety melt away. It's as if a big boulder that's been dumped on my shoulders has fallen off and I was free. Now I won't have to worry about surgery and bleeding to death anymore. I won't have to worry about the pain and the recovery process. Am I making the right decision? I think so! I've never felt this good in a long time. In my heart I just feel that the conventional path of treatment is wrong for me. This isn't to say that other people are wrong for choosing conventional methods. I have so much respect for people who bravely face the terrible ordeal associated with conventional cancer treatments. But I have never been a brave person. I am so scared of surgery, and doubly scared of chemotherapy. I want to try something different first. That's all I am asking for. To be able to try.

So what now? Where do I go from here?

I've been doing extensive research on alternative cancer therapies, and I was so amazed by the numerous treatments out there. But how to know which of them truly work? Decisions, decisions. How to make the right decision when your life is hanging in the balance? It was a relief to be able to put off conventional medicine in favor of the alternative, but now I am faced with an even bigger dilema.

Dear God, I trust you to lead me and guide me to making the right decision. Tell me what I must do. Show me the way. Only you can get me through this.

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Happy Birthday To Me

Blog Wednesday, January 03, 2018

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Reflections Of A Troubled Mind

Blog Saturday, December 30, 2017

Credits: Brooke Shaden Photography

Surgery.

One word that is scary for some, and not so scary for others. For me it's the former.

You ask why. It's because as a nurse, I've seen so many surgeries and they aren't a pleasant sight to see. I've heard so many whispered stories about complications in the O.R... Stories of people never waking up from the operating table... stories of people who do wake up in the operating table when they're supposed to slumber their way through it... people who bleed to death... and worse, perfectly healthy people suffering a stroke during surgery due to a stray clot that somehow decided to stick around in a cerebral artery, cutting off blood supply to the brain - a random twist of fate. Any takers?

I am scheduled to undergo surgery on January 10, 2018. The surgical procedure for me is called Splenectomy. It is when a team of brilliant and most experienced surgeons will cut me open and remove my dearly beloved spleen and whatever trace of cancer they can find.

I am so not ready to say goodbye to my poor spleen. If you've read my previous posts, you would know that I really do not want to be "spleenless" which will put me at high risk for developing infections (I'm a nurse, and my hospital job exposes me to various types of infection on a daily basis).

But my doctors are saying that surgery is the first step in treating sarcomas. Chemotherapy and/or radiation will follow.

Since Christmas, I've been going back and forth to the hospital to receive my shots in preparation for the upcoming surgery. I have to complete my flu shots, my hepatitis shots, pneumococcal and meningococcal shots before they take out my spleen. And FYI, these vaccines are super painful! Omg they're even more painful than the splenic biopsy and bone marrow biopsy that I went through last month! OOOF!

Once I have completed all my shots, I will be "ready" for the "slaughter". As I have mentioned in one of my previous posts, the spleen is part of the immune system and plays a vital role in the human body's first line of defense against infections and diseases. (You can read about my post here: Learning About My Illness ). So once my spleen is removed, I will be at higher risk for developing life-threatening infections, this is why I have to complete the vaccines before spleen removal.

However, I am having second thoughts.

Now that the fateful day of surgery is drawing near, I am terrified out of my wits! I feel like backing out of the whole thing. Aside from the horror stories I've heard about the O.R. , I've also learned that surgery promotes cancer spread. A few days ago I came across the website, The Truth About Cancer, and read about surgery and it's consequences for cancer patients. For instance, I've read that surgery promotes metastasis (cancer spread) by causing cancer cells to break off from the original tumor and being carried off into the blood stream. Surgery also suppresses the immune system which is very important in fighting cancer. After reading these things, it's like a blindfold that's been keeping me blind has finally fallen off. I spent all day yesterday reading and researching about cancer. Now that I am more open-minded and receptive to information, an endless stream of info has been flooding through me. It's like the gates of knowledge have opened up for me.

Now I am having doubts about going through with surgery. Especially after my disturbing conversation with my doctor today. Today after receiving my pneumococcal shot, I asked my hematologist about the chances of cancer spread as a consequence of surgery. Reluctantly she admitted that there is in fact a big chance of spreading the cancer if we do the splenectomy. Goodness gracious! It's like being told they're gonna treat me but the treatment will make me worse. Good grief!

I feel there has to be another way, a much safer way to fight cancer.

Is there another way?

There are in fact, a lot of alternative ways, as I have learned through my research. But at the moment, I'm skeptical and unconvinced about these alternative treatments. As a nurse, I am part of the medical community that is wholly committed to saving lives. I have faith in medicine and the science behind it. I trust my doctors and I believe that they are looking out for me and they are putting my health, my well-being, and my life first above anything else.

Ugghh! I thought I was done with doubting. Now I feel like I'm right back to day one, when it all started. I cope better when a decision has been made. But when doubts and indecision are pulling me in opposite directions, I fall apart.

Dear God, please help me make the right decision.

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Upcoming Surgery And My Thoughts About It

Blog Friday, December 22, 2017

Today has been a very emotional day. I feel like a little child - helpless, powerless, fearful and vulnerable in a world that's unsafe and uncertain. Today I've been told that surgery is imminent. I cannot dodge it. It is the only path for me if I am to survive. My bone marrow biopsy came out negative, which is awesome news. And my CT scan result says there is no sign of cancer anywhere else in my body, except in my spleen. Another great news. However, everything is clearly paving its way for surgery, and that is the one thing I am most fearful about.

Today my hematologist finally referred me to an Oncologist and a Surgeon that will co-manage my case. The three of them are gonna be my team of doctors who will manage and treat my illness.

My oncologist is female, she looks like in her late-fifties and she looks exactly what an expert and competent doctor should look like. The moment I saw her, I felt this air of authority about her, and the moment I heard her speak, I knew she was very good in her field. She was very formal and serious as she explained to me the process of my disease and how it's gonna be managed, but strangely enough I felt comforted by it, because it was a sign to me that she knew exactly what she was talking about. She told me that surgery is the major step in treating my illness. Sarcomas do not respond very well to chemotherapy and radiation, and removing the mass in my spleen would be the best intervention. Afterwards, adjuvant chemotherapy can be administered as supportive intervention to surgery.

While she was explaining this, I just nodded quietly to everything she was saying. I was struggling deep inside of me. I was hoping I could dodge surgery in favor of other options. Losing my spleen would mean I would be at higher risk for developing infections. How would I be able to work as a nurse now? If working in a hospital poses a threat by exposing me to different diseases, I can never be a nurse again. These were the thoughts running through my head, but I kept them to myself.

After my meeting with the oncologist, I went to meet my surgeon next. The surgeon is male, and for some reason I expected a young surgeon, but he was a lot older, probably in his late fifties or early sixties. I was suddenly filled with anxiety, immediately doubting his capabilities. But when he started talking, I felt my fear gradually subside. I could tell he was brilliant, he answered all my questions direct to the point, no sugar-coating, no false assurances. He said that a lot of the decisions will be made in the operating room, when he opens me up and sees how severe the cancer really is. He told me he will do his very best to remove the spleen , but if it's impossible to remove, like for instance, if it has latched on to nearby organs, or if there is any chance that I might bleed to death, he will not remove it. He will not risk it. He was very honest, and that's when I knew I could trust him.

After the meetings, I walked out of the hospital in a daze. I was very upset but I was able to maintain composure at the same time. I didn't want to cry anymore, crying is physically draining for me. It triggers my migraine and severely depletes my energy. I'd be exhausted and practically bedridden after a crying meltdown.

To make things worse, all sea trips have been canceled by the coastguard because a storm has just made its landfall. Meaning, I couldn't go home. And I'm so anxious to get back home. Right now I am in a hotel room, writing this blog post. It's very cold and its raining constantly. Christmas Day is three days away, and I should be home right now, safe and warm with my family near me. I can't believe I'm stuck here. I just wanna go home.

Surgery. Why do I fear it? Aside from living without a spleen and being unable to go back to my nursing job, I am afraid of being put to sleep... for the last time. I'm scared of not waking up from the surgery. I'm scared of bleeding to death. I'm scared of never seeing my family again. I'm scared of dying. I am not ready. :(

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A Song From My Childhood

Blog Monday, December 18, 2017

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Learning About My Illness: What Is Spleen Cancer?

Blog Thursday, December 14, 2017

When I first got sick and was told I might have either Leukemia or Lymphoma, I was very relieved. It could have been worse. Both cancers are treatable, and if managed well, patients can live for many years without the disease affecting their quality of life (well, except for the regular treatments and their side effects, monitoring, and the medical bills that pile up). I did shed a few tears here and there, and my first thought was, why me? But following that, I was really relieved that I didn't have the deadly cancers like brain cancer or bone cancer. It could have been worse, you know?

However, everything turned upside down when the official report of my spleen biopsy came out. (You can read about my spleen biopsy here: Biopsy Done. Was It Scary? ) It turns out I have Spleen Sarcoma. The report says it is High Grade, poorly differentiated, with highly increased mitotic activity. In other words, it was an aggressive type. The doctor told me that the only way to treat it is Surgery, where they remove the spleen, have it further analyzed to determine what type of Chemotherapy will be administered after the surgery. My doctor could not assure me of the success of treatment, but she did assure me the surgery will be done by the very best surgeons.

So what is Spleen Cancer? I am a nurse, but I have never encountered or even heard much about spleen cancer, let alone spleen sarcoma. So I turned to my best friend when it comes to research: Google (lol). That night after being diagnosed, I hunted for all possible information I could find regarding my illness. I learned that Spleen Sarcoma is super rare, accounting for only very few cases reported around the world. In fact, sarcomas, or basically any type of cancer that start in the spleen are so uncommon, that it was first believed that the spleen was highly refractory (resistant) to the formation of neoplasms (tumor growth). Usually, the spleen becomes malignant due to cancer cells migrating or spreading from a different origin (called metastasis), and this occurs with less frequency compared to other organs affected by metastasis (cancer spread). When cancer starts in the spleen, then it is considered primary spleen cancer, and it is most commonly attributed to the systemic disease process of Leukemia and Lymphoma, which is why my doctors suspected I have either one of them. In very rare cases, such as mine, it turned out to be Sarcoma.

The Spleen

The spleen is a small organ located at the upper left area of the abdomen, behind the stomach, and tucked inside the rib cage. It is purplish in color, and a spongy, squishy, bloody organ filled with vessels. It was once called "the forgotten organ" because there was a time when people didn't know what it was for. Because humans can survive without a spleen, it used to be regarded as an unimportant organ of the body. The Greek physician and philosopher Galen, called it an "organ of mystery".

The spleen's history is a very fascinating one. Ever heard of the expression "venting your spleen"? There is actually a basis for this expression. In the earlier times, the spleen was thought to be in charge of producing "Black Bile". In ancient Greek and Roman medicine, it was believed that there were 4 bodily fluids, called "Humors" that actively influence health and mood. One of them was the black bile. When the spleen produced too much black bile, it caused a person to be moody, angry or depressed. Thus the idiomatic expression "venting your spleen", which means to express your anger. Paradoxically, the spleen also purified the bile, and this is why the spleen is also associated with joy, bliss and laughter, giving way to expressions like "bust a spleen laughing".

As medicine began advancing, doctors realized that black bile and humors weren't responsible for health and temperament. It was actually bacteria, viruses, and chemical imbalances that made people sick. The spleen, no longer responsible for people's happiness or sadness, fell into oblivion. Hence, the "forgotten organ".

The spleen has been known to act as filter for blood cells. It filters old and dead blood cells in our body, kinda like a waste basket that separates these dead and damaged blood cells from the normal ones. However, this function is also done by the liver, and that is why back in the 1950's, when a person injures a spleen, doctors simply take it out and consider the problem solved. But as the technology progressed, it was later discovered that the spleen plays a significant role in the Immune System. It produces antibodies that fight infection. The spleen is actually part of our first line of defense against disease.

For this reason, doctors today no longer slash and cut the spleen except in life-threatening situations like massive bleeding and cancers. Splenectomy is the medical term for spleen removal. Vaccines like Pneumococcal, Meningococcal, Hepatis and Influenza are usually given before or after splenectomy to ensure the patient's immunity to certain types of infections.

But there's more. The spleen can do something remarkable that no other organ in our body is able to do: replicate itself. When spleen cells accumulate in enough quantities (for instance, after an injury where spleen cells are dispersed), they can form and grow into little spleens. There haven't been enough studies to conclude that these new spleens work the same way as the original spleen, but hey, having one is better than having no spleen at all.

As for me, if I can dodge surgery and be able to keep my spleen, then I will be forever grateful. As a nurse, I am often exposed to all kinds of infections in my working environment. Without a spleen, I will be at high risk for developing infections. Being vaccinated doesn't give people full protection so I don't fully trust them.

But if spleen removal means staying alive and beating my illness, then I guess I better prepare myself to say goodbye to my poor spleen. ♥

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My Cancer Journey Begins / Bone Marrow Biopsy Done

Blog Tuesday, December 12, 2017

So last week, I was talking about being diagnosed with a rare form of cancer called Splenic Sarcoma. It was the hardest day of my life, and I can't even begin the describe the anguish, the shock, and the hopelessness I felt that day. I wanted to scream but I couldn't. I wanted to throw things, break things, lose control for once... but I just couldn't. Not when I must think of my family and how hard it is already for them. I don't want to make things worse for the people around me. All I can do is cry silently into my pillow at night, and pretend to be cheerful and positive in front of everybody.

So my cancer journey has begun. I have finally been diagnosed. I know what's wrong with me now. And knowing, I think, has given me a sense of direction as opposed to not knowing. I now know what I am up against, and start working up the courage to be brave enough to face whatever lies ahead. The problem is, I have never been a brave person. I don't easily get scared, and I can tolerate pain if I really put my mind to it. What I am most afraid of is not having enough time left to do the things I want to do before I die... like create happy memories with the people I love... ask forgiveness to the people I've hurt... travel and see the world... work as a nurse in a different country... do exciting and scary things like riding a roller-coaster. I've never been in a roller-coaster ride. I've always been too scared to do it, but now, suddenly I just wanna do it.

On my last post I also talked about my doctors wanting me to undergo a procedure called, Bone Marrow Aspiration Biopsy. It is a procedure where they will aspirate blood and remove tissue sample from my bone marrow for analysis. They want to rule out Leukemia and Lymphoma so they can focus on treating the Sarcoma. Then they want me to do a whole body CT Scan , and possibly MRI, to determine where else in my body is affected by cancer. My Xrays were clear, and my abdominal ultrasounds revealed nothing atypical in my abdominal region, except for the large mass in my spleen. All week I've been watching youtube videos of people talking about and showing their bone marrow biopsy experience. I don't know, but I feel more in control if I know what's gonna happen to me, although I'm also aware that perception and experience differ with every person. All the people on youtube I've watched talked about the experience being so painful, so horrible. I ended up feeling anxious and stopped watching altogether.

So yesterday, I went back to the hospital to do the CT scan. It was my very first CT scan, and it went well. One of the things I didn't like was how freezingly cold it was in the facility. It was so cold I was literally shaking and shivering. My toenails even turned bluish. Another thing I didn't like was how I had to drink 2 liters of water before the procedure. By the time I was asked to lie down in the oval machine, my stomach felt so bloated, it was very uncomfortable. I was strapped into the cot and told to relax. Before starting, the nurse gave me several instructions. She told me that once the procedure starts, I would be all alone in the room, but she and the technicians would be in the other room separated by glass, and they will be able to see me and I can call out to them if something is wrong. She also said that when the radioactive dye starts pumping into my veins, I will feel a warm sensation from head to toe, and a bitter, metallic taste in my mouth. All perfectly normal and will only last a few minutes. Once she was done with her instructions, she left the room but I could hear her voice in a microphone somewhere. The procedure began and I was slid into the oval several times for scanning. I felt some pain in my arm where the radioactive dye was infused, and yes, I felt the warm sensation run through my body starting from the head, then downward to my feet. The bitter taste in my mouth was weird, but didn't last long. I was more anxious of the fact that I was strapped in the cot. I felt claustrophobic in that room and was glad when it was finally over. The scan took 40 minutes.

Then today, I did the bone marrow biopsy. My hematologist performed the procedure, and I thank God for giving me such a competent and amazing hematologist. The moment I walked in, she immediately assured me that everything will be fine, that she'd done this many times before, and promised me I will not feel much. The nurses made me lie down on my left side, exposing the right side of my body. The doctor explained she would like to do the procedure on my right iliac bone (hip bone on the right pelvic area). Her voice was so calm, and her hands felt so light on my skin, that I gradually felt my anxiety fade away. She carefully walked me through the procedure, telling me when to brace myself for pain, and when to finally relax. I only felt pain twice. The first was when she induced the local anesthesia. It was a stinging pain in various points that lasted for 2 to 3 minutes. The pain was agonizing, yes, and I just closed my eyes everytime I felt it. But after that, I did not feel anything anymore. Not even when she was "drilling" through my bone to extract tissue. I felt the pressure of the instrument as it slowly dug through my bone, but it was painless. The second time I felt pain was the blood aspiration. The doctor told me to brace myself as this was the most painful. And it was. I felt a suction-like sensation and it was agonizing, but only lasted for a few seconds, then it was all over. The whole thing lasted around an hour, more or less.

When it was all done, to my surprise my hematologist came over to me and held my hands, and said a prayer for me. That was so unexpected, and so kind, that I felt the tears roll down my face. She gave me a hug and told me she will be seeing me next week to discuss my results. She assured me that everything will be okay, and she will be assembling the best team of surgeons and oncologists to co-manage my case.

And so I did it. It wasn't so bad. Not at all.

So this is how it's going to be from now on. If I am to make it through this journey, I will need to be strong. Today's experience showed me that I am indeed strong enough. God will always give me the strength to face every hurdle, one at a time. ♥

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Beautiful Words To Live By And Get You Through The Day

Blog Sunday, December 10, 2017

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My Day In The Sun

Blog Thursday, December 07, 2017

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Got My Biopsy Report . . . I'm In Shock

Blog Tuesday, December 05, 2017

I've just been to the doctors today. I am still in shock.

Today, they revealed to me the result of my Biopsy. It wasn't Lymphoma, and it wasn't Leukemia. It's something worse. They told me I have High Grade Splenic Sarcoma. Stage 3 (tentative staging). Its a super rare form of cancer, with only a few documented cases around the world.

I am shocked. Even though I prepared myself for the worst, I am still shocked. Nothing can ever prepare you for something like this. Being told you have cancer is the worst feeling in the world.

I didn't cry in front of the doctors, which is a relief. I didn't want to break down in front of them and see their sympathetic faces. Don't know how I managed to hold myself together, but I was able to. I was able to maintain composure and talk without my voice breaking. I asked them what was gonna happen now. My hematologist said I need to undergo a CT scan, to see where else in my body is affected by cancer. This will also confirm at what stage I am in. If they find the cancer in another spot in my body, it will mean I am Stage IV. She also wants me to undergo a Bone Marrow Biopsy, to completely rule out leukemia and lymphoma. So she scheduled me for a CT scan next week on December 12, and a Bone Marrow Aspiration Biopsy the day after.

After the appointment, I was finally able to cry once I was back in the car. All I could think of was my family and how they'll react to the news. They'd be devastated. In that instant, I decided I was gonna cry it all out, and get it out of my system before I face my family and tell them the truth. I want to be able to tell them, dry-eyed, and as calm as I possibly can.

So you can imagine how hard that trip back home was. I was crying on and off, I felt sick, I felt like throwing up. And although the weather was warm, I felt really cold and was shivering all over. Memories of my life literally flashed before my eyes. I was falling apart, but held on and whispered a silent prayer, asking God to help me get through this horrible trip.

Strangely enough, I was finally calm and collected when I got home. I broke off the news to everyone, smiling and joking about my illness, laughing about it and trying to not make a big deal and drama about it. And somehow, I think it helped my family listen and accept the situation without completely breaking down in tears. Devastated and teary-eyed, yes, but none of them lost control. If one of them had cried, I know I would have lost my composure and fell apart right then and there. So thankfully, none of that happened. I want to be able to approach the situation in a calm manner, and maintain levelheadedness if I am to face this difficult journey ahead.

However, my calmness was short-lived. Tonight I can't sleep. I can't stop crying. I am scared, and I am not gonna deny it. Scared that I'm not brave enough to go through whatever is in store for me. Scared of the pain... most of all, scared of dying. I do not want to die. I believe in God, and yet tonight, all kinds of doubtful and depressing thoughts have been creeping into my brain. What if it's all a lie? What if there is no God? What if there is no life after death?... or worse, what if there really is heaven and hell, and I end up spending eternity in hell? What happens when I'm gone? What have I done in this life that I can be truly proud of? Truth is, there is none. I have wasted much of my life and now, it seems I don't have a lot of time left to do something good and meaningful.

Please God... help me... tell me what to do.

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