From the beginning...

My cancer story began well before I knew it was there.  In hindsight, which of course is always 20/20, I can look back at an obstetrical ultrasound done March 5, 2002 and realize we all should have questioned the “ill-defined area” which was my tumor.  But the obstetrician did not question and I had not yet learned that you should always read your own reports.  My son was born October 11, 2002 and I thought all was well in the world.   But a year later I am still struggling to lose the baby tummy.  Despite my attempts to eat well and exercise my tummy just won’t get flatter.  I feel very foolish but finally in November 2003 I visit my family physician who, God bless him, takes me seriously and sends me for an ultrasound.  Things move fast.  The ultrasound shows a large mass and I am referred to the Kingston Cancer Center, suspected of having an ovarian or uterine tumor.  Surgery is booked for Dec 19, 2003.  Life is a whirling around me and before I know it I am heading to the OR room.  It ended up being a retroperitoneal myxoid liposarcoma measuring 25 x 25 x 25 cm.  No clean margins were possible with this type of tumor and no further treatment was suggested.  At the time I am very unaware of the seriousness of liposarcoma and feet I have just had a onetime close call.  I go on with life not really giving cancer a second thought.  

Regular CT scan follow up continued and I really thought nothing of it.  In fact, fall of 2006 I had a requisition in hand and was to book my own scan with Northumberland hospital as it was closer instead of going to Kingston and I hadn’t bothered to do it.  My best friend likely saved my life the day she said “hey, shouldn’t you have gone for a scan?  Give me your requisition and I will book it for you.”  Thank you Brenda!  She booked my scan in January; I went and then left on a holiday.  Upon my return the Dr.’s office was trying to reach me.  Something was suspicious on the scan and they needed to see me.  Long story short again, I was back in the operating room February 21, 2007 where they removed 4 tumors, all recurrent myxoid liposarcoma.  

Between February 2007 and February 2008 I embarked on a personal mission to lose weight, eat well and exercise.  I felt very successful having reached my ideal weight, taking in 2-4 cycling or cardio classes a week and lifting weights.  I felt great, had my stress level under control and was enjoying life with my husband and kids.  If physical fitness could control cancer then I should have never have had a recurrence because I was the model of good health.  

My health initiative did not stop the Feb 7, 2008 CT scan showing a new mass and I was referred for a second opinion to Mount Sinai and Princess Margaret Hospitals in Toronto.  October 31 the sky falls in on my world.  My case was discussed at the tumor board and the decision was my tumor was inoperable, radiation was not recommended and a cure was not possible.  Perhaps chemo (doxorubicin) would slow down the symptoms.  I will never forget that day.  I can’t really believe what I am being told, that this tumor will slowly but surely take over my body.  I begin to fight, fiercely.  I search for other answers.  I simply cannot accept that this is it.  I have heard it described as crazy, courageous, foolish, expensive, miraculous, understandable or even unbelievable and I am not recommending this step to anyone else but what I did next was seek cancer treatment in Mexico.    Under the care of an oncologist I was treated with a low dose course of radiation combined with chemotherapy, which we paid for ourselves.  At this point in time my scans shows I now have 3 tumors; overlying the renal arteries, the vena cave and the pelvis.  I spent the next two months at home, recovering strength and weight.  February 10, 2009 I booked myself a MRI scan at a private pay for use clinic in New York.  This scan showed dramatic shrinkage of the tumors and I am encouraged to seek a surgeon to remove the tumors.  A surgeon with the KRCC is very cautious but after discussing all of the potential risks with both myself and my husband agrees to operate Feb. 17,  2009.  I cannot thank him enough for his skill as a surgeon and his willingness to let me have my chance at living longer.  According to the surgery notes “a long, tedious dissection was undertaken and we were able to get this tumor off of the renal vessels and off of the vena cava and remove it completely…and again excised the pelvic lesion in a similar fashion”.  All tumors were resected, all three were identified as recurrent myxoid liposarcoma.  

Again I wish I could say this was the end of the story, but there is much more.  As you read this it will seem that I keep getting my life waylaid by cancer but when I look back on it that is not how I feel.  I feel I have lived so much life between today and the original diagnosis in 2003.  Events in my life stand out now, like pop-up books and there are so many of them.  I have been blessed by others who have shared their stories, I have learned, loved, grown.  Life is so rich now.  So don’t start to feel sad or discouraged as you read on.  Know that each crisis was a platform from which I was able to spring from, up and onto the next step in life. 

The cancer came back in summer of 2010 and through the help of an online support group called ACOR, I met fellow Canadian, an angel of a woman, who encouraged me to seek a second opinion from the Segal Cancer Center in the Jewish General Hospital in Montreal.  I met an oncologist there in the Young Adult clinic and was impressed with how while being candid about my prognosis he also offered me the hope of treatment options.  The tumors were scattered this time, like a dusting of cancer all over my abdominal wall.  Chemotherapy was suggested and I embarked on a new adventure.  Every 3 weeks I would go to Montreal for a 3 night stay in the hospital to receive chemo infusion by IV.  I became bald which was kind of cool in a twisted way.  I discovered I have a well shaped skull and since I don’t like fussing with my hair, putting on a scarf or hat suited my style just fine.  Chemo also makes you tired, fat, nauseous, irritable and forgetful.  It was a long 7 months and although my family won’t admit it, I bet I was a little unpleasant to be around.  However, it was all worth it! as the cancer was going, going, gone and by April 2011 my scans were showing no evidence of disease.  

Summer 2012 finds me with the cancer back again..this time the scan shows one tumor but its growing fairly quickly.   Surgery is recommended this time and they operate on me at Kingston General on July 19^th.  My incision is always pretty impressive, this one was 29 staples and surprise instead of 1 tumor the surgeon finds 3 of them.  I am appreciative of his skill as a surgeon.  I heal, spend the summer playing with my kids and celebrating life.  

I get scared at times but I have learned how to not worry. I pray, I love, I laugh and when the scary creeps in I respect the feeling, honor it for what is it and then I look at my life with my eyes wide open and see how incredibly wonderful it is, right now at this moment and I can't help but smile and feel blessed. I live soaking up each moment as it comes, rejoicing in the awesomeness of it all. 

photo taken on the Owyhee River trip summer 2012

There have been so many lessons learned through by cancer journey.  I wish there was room to write them all down here but I feel that would be more of a book than a story.  Lessons of love, giving and accepting help, courage, fear, determination and giving in, commitment, friends and family, being honest with your kids and giving them space to grow, reaching out, reaching in, the power of fresh air, good food and knowing that no matter what your husband is there with you.  I am a fortunate woman.

God Bless,

Love Teresa

Some of my diary clips:

Feb 8, 2011, letter to a cancer buddy

I am finding things difficult and it bothers me that I can't get over it. In my mind I know this not reasonable but I don't seem to be able to make my heart know it.  Here is the embarrassing part - my disappointment is because I thought I had wonderfully skipped past the need for surgery.    Yet today when we saw the oncologist not only was surgery back in the plan but he also tossed in 2 more chemo cycles.  Double POW.  Like I said, in my mind I know all the good stuff.  The chemo is working exceptionally well, we are getting better than expected results and I am now a surgical candidate which was not possible 6 months ago.  It's all very, very good.  I can see the disappointment in people around me too.  I guess what happened is for a week we lived without cancer and then we had to take it back.  I am actually really angry at myself for jumping into saying the cancer was gone and no surgery was needed.  I should have read that report more carefully and been my usual questioning self.  I let my guard down there and now it has hurt a lot of people around me. 
It's also making life crazy, last week we were filling up my week with plans and now I am leaving for chemo and all this stuff I was going to be responsible for I cannot be.  It' hard to push all that off of my plate, it makes me sad to not be able to do these things. 
There, that is the ugly truth of it all... Please know I really needed this chance to vent, this is the worst of it and I feel much better for having put it into words.   Just don't hang onto to this message too long, it's like a good cry, once it’s done it done and we can move on.

June 2009, a letter to Bernie

I think of you as one of the cheeriest people I know!  I have always enjoyed talking with you.  Of course it helps that you that you have a really awesome accent!  Cancer changes you forever, but some of the changes are good.  It taught me to enjoy the day that I have in front of me, right now.  I have quit putting off doing things tomorrow.  Today I am going on a school trip with my son.  Last year I would have said no, I was too busy at work and I would have promised him next year I would go.  Not anymore.  I realize it may be 5, 10 or I hope 40 years from now, but there will come a time when I am not here to see him grow and I should be enjoying all I can now.  Live in the moment.  Love the day you have before you. 
You are so right, life is a play.  You never know when the curtain call will come but we can do our best to make our play the best ever no matter what.  Part of that is having good friends.  You are my good friend.  Thank you for being my friend.  I hope I am a good friend to you.
Teresa  

rest in peace my friend (Bernie was a very cool Scottish Kayaker)

Bernie Gray, died of cancer at age 69

Sept 2009, beginning chemo thought

I was out running this past Saturday morning and it was a typical fall
day, breezy and cool.  The leaves were blowing off the trees and
swirling around on the road in front of me.  I felt God was speaking to
me, wrapping around me like the wind.  I heard him say "It's okay, it's
your fall season and all seasons have a reason. Your fall, just like the
trees, is a time to let go of your leaves, to quit growing and focus
your energy into your roots.  It is a time to use your inner strength
and prepare for winter.  Winter will be a time of rest, regeneration and
renewal.  It will be a quiet time, with peace and sleep, a healing time.
Though you won't be able to see it a lot will be happening deep in your
roots as you build strength in preparation for Spring."  When my Spring
arrives I will once again flourish, growing, reaching for the sun,
showing my leaves for all to see.