1st Meeting with Oncologist

Written Thursday, August 12th, 2010

Where do I begin . . .
A) the point where I am encapsulated in tremendous peace, a peace that transcends all understanding
or
B) the journey that brought me to this point?

Of course, I am going to start with the journey! Chronological order, people!

Today was my first day back to school! It felt great to be surrounded by people who love children and love teaching. It was great being back with my team albeit for a short time. I thank God for my Meadow Wood community.

That joyous feeling was soon overcome by a dark, ominous cloud.

I learned that seeing my new scar for the first time on April 8 was not one of the hardest times of my life as I had once previously thought (see an earlier blog entry). Nope, today my medical oncologist shook me to the core. She showed us 6 tumors in my lungs on my latest CT scan, 3 on each side. They were about the size of nickels. My cancer is now in Stage 4 as it has metastasized. My CT scan just 4 months earlier was clear so this means that the cancer is pretty aggressive. My unclassified soft-tissue sarcoma is very rare. They are not sure why my arm is completely clear of disease while my lungs are showing rapid metastasis. Because of these uncertainties and the very nature of sarcomas, my medical oncologist wants to proceed with the most aggressive chemotherapy treatment.

She asked us, do you want to proceed with the most aggressive treatment?

Eric asked, "Well, what does that mean?"

Her response, Sarah, you will be wearing a wig to your wedding in November. first blow  While it was a shock to hear the words out loud, I was preparing myself for that.

She continued, we will start you on a combination of 2 drugs through a catheter (to your heart). You will have chemo for 4 days straight, 5 hours each day. On the first 3 days you take home more chemo drugs in a bag that feed into your catheter. Then you will rest and let your body heal for 2 weeks and we start the second cycle. Of course my immediate reaction was "how am I going to teach?" Her recommendation was that I might need to take a leave of absence. WHAT??? Now this had NEVER crossed my mind. HUGE second blow

When do we need to start? Next week.

Are you ready to start treatment? she asks. Honestly, I answer no. (I have my students, I have my wedding, I have my normal way of life. NO I am not ready to start treatment. ) She then reminds me of my rare sarcoma and that time is of the essence. My mom, my dad, and Eric are all dumbfounded as the news keeps coming. third blow

Fertility became the next discussion topic. As many know, chemo wreaks havoc on the ovaries. She reminds us of that risk. We are then informed that there isn’t enough time to harvest eggs before we need to start treatment. However, she does give us another option of inducing menopause taking Lupron (sp?) to protect my eggs. fourth blow

Then she rattles off my schedule: heart tests, Chemo training, PET scan Friday; catheter installation Tuesday; and Chemo starts Wednesday.

Four people leave the room devastated. Even our oncologist tears up.

How can all of this be happening?

But if you remember the beginning of this entry there was a part A. As I write this entry, I am hopeful and peaceful. This evening we had a church “retreat” for small group leaders. There was no doubt in my mind that Eric and I needed to be there. We were prayed over and loved on and our heavy hearts were lightened. We also feel your prayers from afar. I would not be in this restful place if it weren’t for your prayers, for your notes, for your offers of help, for your texts, for your calls. While we weren’t expecting these 4 blows today, they are the hand we have been dealt. Time will show the beauty that results and the divine purpose.

Shine bright firefly, shine bright. – In the midst of the darkness, the holy spirit with shine within me. – Shine bright firefly, shine bright.