
April 27, 2025. Today is a very impactful word for me. It’s where I strive to spend my time. Mentally and emotionally, it’s not always easy to stay present in today or in this moment or in general. Sometimes I find myself wondering what’s going to happen next or start imagining how my story will unfold before and after a future treatment. Intellectually I know it’s a story that won’t be written until I’m experiencing it, in that moment, in that day. Through a daily meditation practice, it has become less challenging over time. Being more present in today has helped me cope with the dark cloud of cancer that always casts a shadow over my head. Barring a miracle of any kind—science or otherwise—it’s a cloud that will most likely never go away in my lifetime. So I’m grateful for being in the sunshine of today, in this moment. I’m grateful to feel myself sitting here, noticing the texture of my fingers on the keyboard, my eyes seeing the words flow onto the screen in front of me, as I feel myself breathing in and out, hearing the sounds of life going on all around me.
I’ve enjoyed the luxury of no infusions since November 8, 2023. As you may recall, I had five sessions of focal radiation on the largest nodules in my right lung the first week of December 2023. My condition has been stable until a few months ago, when a very small amount of growth was detected just below my collarbone, with new growth in the right paratracheal lymph node. In January the latest CT scan confirmed the cancer is slowly growing. The exception was the paratracheal lymph node which had shrunk by more than half after 5 focal radiation treatments in January of this year. During my last meeting with Dr. Rugo, she encouraged me to start a new therapy even though the growth is small. There is a school of thinking that the longer it’s left untreated the more resistant it might become.
On Monday, May 19 I’m scheduled to begin my next course of treatment. That’s just three weeks away. I’m trying not to think about it too much. It’s a targeted therapy called Dato-DXd. From what I’ve read, the side effects can be brutal. What I tell myself is that more often than not I’ve tolerated therapies better than most. Until the actual story is written, that is my expectation. The good news is that I’ll be getting all my infusions in Ukiah, just 45 minutes away. And the treatments are once every three weeks. It’s a welcome change from the 3-hour drive to UCSF for the research study that was once a week for three weeks, and then a week off. My local oncologist Hengbeng Wang is treating me in concert with UCSF and my new oncologist Laura Huppert. I will have my first appointment with her in June.
Listen, I don’t want to do it. It’s hard not to get depressed knowing what lies ahead. It’s been so nice to have my life back. To feel normal. The thought of starting treatment again after so much time off is especially difficult. But my gut tells me I need to jump back into the deep end of the pool. I find it somewhat comforting knowing the I am completely free of all the nasty chemistry that’s been pushed through my body these past several years. I’ll be starting this next phase in very good health. That has to account for something. Right?
So one day at a time. Enjoying my today. Not dwelling on tomorrow. I know I’ve said it before, I’m grateful for you and to you for spending time with me through this posting.
“Life is short. Smile while you still have teeth.” —Anonymous
