The Importance of the phrase: "Tumor Lode"

First, I have to say that we have cried a great deal in simple gratitude for the overwhelming outpouring of love from my announcement of my diagnosis. The sheer number of people who are praying and have who expressed concern and support doesn't seem possible to me. Shawn and I have read every message and all I want to do is respond and call and reach out. I promise. But there is a lot coming up next week and being with the boys and spending happy, healthy time with them remains my top priority. Know that I am so grateful and I do plan on using my recuperation moments to reach out. Thank you to everyone....so much.

Truthfully, until Wednesday of last week, I didn't know anything real about cancer. Everyone knows that I deflect with humor. I make jokes to fill spaces. I don't ask the tough questions. I find it easier to make people laugh than to talk through the pain. It might not be my best trait, but I am not sure that I'm called to change it just yet. I have the dearest of friends who do ask the questions - who do go to depths with others. And I love you all for it. But, whenever it came to cancer and the realities of living with cancer, I was not your girl who was going to "find out all she could" about ailments...

So, I usually defaulted to the idea that "cancer means you're basically going to die sooner rather than later after losing a ton of weight and all of your hair." Someone would say they had cancer and I was looking for the immediate head scarf, soft voice and total lack of appetite.

Shawn told me that a lot of people share this view and that I should maybe explain where I'm at in the diagnosis and demonstrate that my situation can be seen as pretty hopeful, relatively.

It all hinges on the phrase "tumor lode" or "tumor burden." While it is true that the docs are labeling my cancer as stage 4, this is because it has most likely spread to my lungs and liver. This is still undetermined. Undetermined, because the spots are all too small (and too few) to diagnose. It is in my best treatment options to be classified as Stage 4 because this will allow them to prescribe the most potent dose of Chemotherapy. As a comparison, a person with large tumors in multiple areas spread throughout his or her body would also be categorized as Stage 4. This person would have a much greater "tumor lode or burden" than myself.  It is hopeful news for myself that, "my tumor burden appears to be very small," which brought us a lot of comfort yesterday.

About yesterday and what's up next:  Tuesday (6/25), I will have a colostomy surgery (click if you're interested). It's laparoscopic, will be generally life-changing, but is widely done and relatively safe. I will also have a port put in under my collar bone for my future chemo infusions. I will hopefully meet with my oncologist (chemo/cancer doc described as my "quarterback") and I will have a PET scan which will hopefully allow my docs to fully diagnose the spot in my liver and/or lungs. I will be in the hospital until Thursday and will need to recover for 2 or 3 weeks before I can begin my chemo. I'm planning to use those weeks for connection, praying my heart out and fun (and let's be serious, I'll still have to do a lot of laundry, swim team and baseball :) If you're local (or crazy) and want to come visit in the hospital, email us and we'll let you know where I am (Safety first!) 

Today, because PRAISE GOD, life goes on, we are heading to Shawn's parents home because they are having a giant family party to celebrate 50 years of marriage. So grateful, so happy, so excited to celebrate something so wonderful. And Shawn and I will be planning ours as well (or at least our 40th in 21 years) because (Romans 5:1-5) "Hope does not disappoint"

Blessings on your weekend. Happy Feast of Corpus Christi tomorrow. B

How we spent 7am - 11am this morning, at a rainy, crazy swim meet!