November 12, 2023. I cried. Not sobbing crying. Tears welling up crying. In front of Dr. Rugo.
Have I cried before? Yes, I did. But that was when Mom died. I had treatment that day, and they put me in Chair 22 on February 22nd. Mom’s birthday. Enough said.
This crying was different. It was different because it had everything to do with me and how I’m feeling right now. And what my intentions were for that day. I was absolutely certain, pretty much, that there would be no infusion. That Cycle 14, Day 1 had been my last as a participant in this clinical trial. Of course in the back of my mind I was hyper-aware of how persuasive Dr. Rugo can be. Therein lies the “pretty much.”
It just ended up being a weird day. Rugo seemed on edge and distracted. She wanted to get right down to business. No chit chat. No sidebars. She asked how I was doing, and commented that I looked thinner. Then asked how I was feeling? I said, “good.” She said she didn’t know if they were going to let me continue in the research study, but I could continue with the Sacituzumab. I said I didn’t want to. She asked what was going on. I said I didn’t like it. That I didn’t feel it was working all that well for me. I told her I saw radiation oncologist Braunstein and he was recommending 5 treatments–every day for one week. She argued that there was no point in doing focal radiation if I wasn’t going to continue systemic treatment. I reminded her we were going to discuss other options. I told her the Sacituzumab makes me tired and like I’m constantly on a chemical buzz. Even with the extra week off, the buzziness was still there.
We talked about the CT scans the previous week. She noted there was some improvement even though there was a slight increase in size of the two larger nodules. Her position was that the infusions have helped, and I am relatively stable. I held firm that I was ready to move on and wanted to discuss other chemotherapy options. She pointed out that the Sacituzumab had slowed down the progression of my disease. She considers that a win, and went on to say that is the goal for whatever treatment I have going forward. I told her I did not want to get treatment just to get treatment. That I know I’m fighting a battle I likely won’t win. That at some point in the future I’m going to call “uncle.” That quality of life was more important to me than suffering to stay alive. I told her. “I feel tired. I feel tired of it all. I’m beat up.” And that’s when the tears made an appearance. Dammit. I did not see that coming.
We went on to talk about the focal radiation. When that might happen. I told her I suspected the week after Thanksgiving. She recommended I go forward with the infusion since, with the radiation, it would be more than a month before we’d even talk about what’s next. Rather than insisting, she asked, “What do you want to do?” I was feeling overwhelmed and emotional. Knowing he knew how I felt, I asked Steve what he thought. He surprised me and sided with Rugo. I understood his response was coming from a place of fear. So I caved. I’m saddened to say, I caved. I agreed to get one last treatment as a research study participant.
So, that was that. I participated in Cycle 15, Day 1. One and done.
So here I sit. This coming week I get mapped for the radiation. And then…
Thanksgiving.
And we should be thankful, too. We should just be thankful for being together. —A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving
lana has cancer 