Changing gears

Aug. 17: I have a difficult post to write tonight, and part of the reason is that I’m really just not sure how to frame the situation with Mom’s health right now.  Another reason is that I know that I’m seeing the situation through my own particular perspective.  But since the only way I can tell the story is as I see it, that’s what I’m going to do.

Since we visited Mayo clinic three weeks ago, Mom’s health hasn’t improved at all. She’s been very week and extremely fatigued.  While she went out a few times (including a little outing with Dad last Sunday for their 35th wedding anniversary), she has rarely left the house.  A few days ago, Mom was in quite a bit of pain, was unable to sleep, and couldn’t keep food down.  Since then not only is she sleeping much more and is very groggy, but she has also become increasingly disconnected from the people or conversations going on around her.  She answers questions, but she loses her train of thought pretty quickly.  It’s been a weird shift over the last week, and it’s really disconcerting and hard for us kids to start to feel like Mom is somewhat just not there.  I almost feel like she is becoming unzippered from her active mind and self.

I had talked to Mom on the phone but hadn’t seen her since last Saturday, and it was pretty hard to see the condition Mom was in today.  Dad and Joe took Mom to see her oncologist yesterday afternoon.  Dr. Frontiera encouraged Mom to not hold off on taking anti-nausea and pain meds.  While the one mass (the Sister Joseph’s Nodule) was determined not to be cancer, they still strongly believe that the mass that is blocking the vein that drains the liver is metastatic pancreatic cancer.  Further, they believe that the symptoms that Mom is experiencing are consistent with pancreatic cancer.  And beyond treating the symptoms, there is really nothing they can do to help her.  It really sucks.

Along with making sure Mom had the best medications for her current situation, Dr. Frontiera also gave Mom a referral for hospice.

I know that this probably seems like a pretty big jump from the situation we’ve been addressing the last couple months.  I’ve been thinking of it as a changing of gears.  We’ve looking into all possible treatment options.  We’ve researched and asked and pushed, and the answer we are getting is just a sad, relatively unacceptable answer.

But even so, we have this reality in which we’re living, and I think all of us want to address the situation with as much honesty and grace as possible.  At least, that’s what I tell myself.

So this afternoon, two nurses from hospice came over to our house and explained the many services they can offer.  They talked about ways they can help keep Mom as comfortable as possible and support us all through this difficult time.  We all sat in the living room, and Mom was awake and able to respond to all their questions.

After burying Duncan this afternoon (our dog died this morning too…see this post for more info), Dad and Joe and I went out for dinner, leaving Mom home alone.  When we came home, Mom was in the kitchen making pasta.  I was really happy to see her up and making herself food and wanting to eat food.  I would say that it is completely possible that Mom will improve in the upcoming days and have a much better set of days in the future.  I just don’t know that for sure, and at this point, I wanted to be really honest about the fact that we’re talking about hoping she gets to be feeling better for a while rather than getting better altogether.

I hate to have to share this, and I’m sorry to be the bearer of such unwanted news.  I’m sure that many people are going to be interested in getting in touch with Mom or knowing what they can do.  Unfortunately, Mom’s been so fatigued these past days, that visitors and phone calls are really pretty hard for her.  She sat up and read the mail this afternoon, so letters are good, and we are planning to log into her email (margotbabler@gmail.com) and print or read her messages to her.

You can also contact me if you have questions or just would like to talk.
And so ends the day.
~Althea

Teaching us to say goodbye

duncan.jpgAug. 17: I don’t feel this way very often, but I must say that for the most part, today pretty much sucked.  A major exception was waking up and having Andrew tell me, “I missed you last night, Mommy.  I really missed you.”
Maretta came over early this morning to tell me that when Mom met with her doctor yesterday, he gave her a referral to hospice.  This wasn’t totally shocking to me, but it was certainly hard news to swallow.  She also told me that Duncan, the family dog, was in a lot of pain and had yipped through the night and probably needed to be put down this morning.  So we cried together for a while.
Andrew saw the tears on my cheeks and said, “Mommy is sad.”  Then he tried to wipe them away.  What a wonderful boy.
So I took Andrew to Karen’s for the day (I’m normally at home with him on Fridays).  I made an appointment with the vet to have him put to sleep, and I headed over to Mom and Dad’s house.
After spending a little while up in Mom’s room, I came back downstairs to find that Duncan had died on his own, at the foot of the stairs, in the home he loves.  Duncan was Joe and Mom’s dog, and poor Joe…this is really too much for a person to have to deal with.  We all cried over Duncan for quite a while, and Joe and Dad and Maretta went out back to dig him a grave.  Joe’s girlfriend Becky came over and helped me in the house.  It was just a sad, sad day.
Duncan had been unable to walk up the stairs for the last few days, and we knew he wasn’t doing well, but it wasn’t clear that he was dying until last night.  With Mom’s health failing so much recently, it’s really hard to be dealing with the death of our family pooch.  I kept having the title of one of my books, Animals as Teachers and Healers running through my mind.  And I found myself wondering if Duncan isn’t helping us somehow.  Teaching us, giving us an outlet and an opportunity to experience feelings about life ending.  He was a good dog.  And he made our family’s life richer and fuller because he was a part of us.  Some pictures of Duncan over the last 12 years are in the gallery.

There’s a heartbeat inside!

August 14: I had my second prenatal appointment this afternoon, and I got to hear the wee one’s heart beat.  Click hear, and you can hear it too. Baby’s hearts beat is about 150 times per minute.  I’m fourteen weeks into the pregnancy, and so far, everything is going well:)

Here’s the week 14 update from Babycenter.com

Welcome to your second trimester! This is a big milestone because it marks the end of a critical development period.
All the basic structures of your baby’s body are formed now. Head to bottom, your baby is just 3 1/2 inches long — about the length of a lemon — and weighs about 1 1/2 ounces. She’s starting to develop an ultrafine, downy covering of hair all over her body called lanugo.
Thanks to brain impulses, her little facial muscles are getting a
workout as she squints, frowns, and grimaces. She can grasp now, too, and she may be able to suck her thumb.

Banana bread and “I love you”

cornonthecob.jpgAugust 11: Just a quick update on some of Andrew’s sweet activities.  In the last few days, he’s been saying, “I love you” much more than normal.  When Bryan came home from work yesterday, he raced over to him, leapt into his arms, and said, “Oh Daddy, I LOVE you.  I missed you!”  And this morning, feeling full of happiness about our Saturday morning togetherness, he ran from me to Bryan, saying “I love you, Mommy.”  “I love you, Daddy.”  It’s music to our ears:)
This morning, Andrew and I got up early and made a loaf of banana bread together.  Andrew dumped all the ingredients in, he helped stir, and he even pulled apart the egg shell (“It fell in, Mommy.  Slimy.”).  He also had fun tasting a lot of the batter (“I yike it, Mommy.  Sugar.  Yummy.”)  We’ve baked together quite a bit, but I think he’s getting to a point where he really gets the process and enjoys knowing that we worked together to make our breakfast together.
Pictures of the last week are in the gallery.

Mom’s suspected Sister Joseph’s Nodule is not Cancer

August 11: I got a welcome phone call from my mom last night.  The radiologist was finally able to compare four of Mom’s cat scans from over the last year, and they determined that the area that was suspected as a Sister Joseph’s Nodule has not changed or grown at all.  That lead them to decide that it is not cancerous. What happy news!

After waiting for the last couple weeks to find out if Mom should have a biopsy of this nodule (which was just under the skin above her belly button), I’m relieved to have the doctor’s opinion.  Apparently, Mom’s cat scans got sent to someone who was on vacation and then got stuck in transit, so that’s why it took so long for them to review them.

A radiologist reviewed them last night, and Mom’s oncologist called her at 8 pm to give her the results.  This doesn’t mean that the clot in Mom’s portal vein isn’t cancerous, but it is a good sign.  Here’s one thing I read about Sister Joseph’s Nodules:

Umbilical metastasis is one of many characteristic signs of extensive neoplastic disease. It suggests advanced distant metastasis and is associated with poor prognosis.

So I’m happy to think that this isn’t what we’re dealing with!

Mom’s brother, Kirk, is in town from Texas this week.  He took Mom out to breakfast yesterday morning, so that was one of her first public outings in the past couple weeks.  Her blood pressure continues to be very low, which means that when she walks around she feels really dizzy.

We’re going to talk over the next couple days about whether to try a blood thinner or chemotherapy, and I think Mom will be interested in starting whichever treatments she decides next week.

That’s the news for now!
~Althea

Rainy weather, but Mom’s feeling better

momtomterryjack.jpgAugust 7: Still not much to report, but I figured that an update on Mom’s health may be appreciated.  We all had a wonderful trip to Jack’s house on the Wisconsin River last weekend.  Mom masterminded the menu, created the shopping list, and then she directed some of the cooking, but in general, she didn’t have to do much.  It was a great little vacation.
To her great relief, the catheter Mom has in her belly to drain the fluid that’s been building up in her abdomen has stopped leaking.  So four the last four days, she can stand up and move around without the threat of getting suddenly drenched without warning.  Thank goodness.  We’re still speaking about this quietly, though, and hoping it doesn’t start up again.

The next step medically are to try to get a biopsy of the suspected Sister Joseph Nodule.  Doctors are conferring about this, and we should know in the next couple days whether they can get something scheduled.

We’d also really like to see if we can’t get Mom’s fluids stabilized.  Her blood pressure has been low, she’s been weak and tired, and losing quite a bit of weight.  If we can’t cure the situation causing those symptoms, we’d at least like to look at ways to treat them.  Mom has been going in to the clinic every few days for infusions of saline, but that hasn’t done much to help her.  So I think we’ll be looking at other treatments in the near future.

We all had a lot of fun spending the weekend together.  When I talked to her yesterday, Mom was thinking about taking a solo trip out this week.  It would be her first time out alone in several weeks.

So that’s the news for now!
~Althea

Summer = Weekend at Jack’s

jacksweekend.jpgAugust 5: I’m about to fall asleep, but I wanted to post the pictures I took during our weekend at Jack’s house.  We all had a wonderful time.  Mom felt pretty good, and there was lots of laughing and eating and being outdoors together.  The weather on Saturday was rainy (for the first time in what feels like a month) and chilly, so we postponed the Wisconsin River float until Sunday.  Instead, we drove around some of the beautiful areas surrounding Jack’s place, headed over to Iowa for a bit, and saw some beautiful views.
On Sunday, Michael, Matt, and Lisa had to head home early and so missed our float.  Tremendous thunderstorms overnight kept Kyle awake, so he found a bed to catch up on sleep.  But Terry, Jack, Tom, Josh (a friend of Michael’s), Joe, Becky, Bryan, Andrew, and I had a fun time on the river.  We took a canoe so we could get home fast if Andrew stopped having a good time.  And it was cold, cold, cold, but the wonderful thing was that Andrew was just sparkling with delight the whole time.  He thought that being in the water was so neat, he did NOT want to ride in the canoe, and so he had fun in the river with the rest of us.  We stopped for our watermelon demolition mid-way, there was some watermelon attacks, and despite the lack of sunshine and chilly water, everyone had a really fun time.  Photos of the weekend are in the gallery.

Adorable Andrewisms

August 1: I’ve realized to my chagrin that this summer I haven’t done a very thorough job of documenting some of the wonderfully sweet and enduring things that my sweet son says and does.  So here’s a stream-of-consciousness set of Andrewisms.

Last month, I started asking Andrew to tell me stories.  To my great surprise, he really likes telling stories.  Mostly just one, but he really gets into it.  It goes like this.

Andrew: “Onceupontime there was…MONSTER.”
Adult:  “A monster? Wow!  What did the monster do?”
Andrew: “White monster.  Big.  Ate a table.”

That’s pretty much the story:)

We have two big cherry tomato pants in our back yard.  All early summer, Andrew desperately wanted to pick the green tomatoes.  It was a compulsion.  It was as if he couldn’t help himself.  Now that it’s the height of summer, he can pick as many ripe tomatoes as he wants.  But sometimes he still grabs the green ones.  He calls them “tomataoes.”  “Go see tomataoes, Mommy!”

Another of Andrew’s favorite games is to hide under the covers in our bed while a ferocious bear (his dad) sniffs around him and roars.  Then Dad shouts, “Shoo bear!” The bear runs away, and Andrew pops out of the covers.  Sometimes Andrew considers the fact that a bear is now loose in the house, and he yells, “Mommy, bear coming!”   I then yell, “Shoo bear, get out!” and let Andrew know that it ran far away and we’re all safe.  He just loves this game.  Daddy is a wonderful sport and plays it overandoverandover.

Favoritisms:  Off and on for the last six months, Bryan has been the favored parent.  When I’m alone with Andrew, we have a great time together, but if Daddy is home, there’s a constant struggle for Andrew to let me do things like play with him or change his diaper or pick him up.  Bryan is a super-amazing dad, and he fulfills his requested duties well, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a change in the young master’s heart so he was a little less in the constant limelight!

Playing in the sprinkler:  Andrew loves having me squirt him with the garden hose.  For a little boy who so very much detests getting his face wet while having his hair washed, he loves getting sprinkled with the hose.  He calls it “rainbow,” I think because I would try to show him the rainbow in the water and that was when he first realized how fun it was to run through the water.  He’s such a cutie playing in the front yard as I try to water our dry, dry garden.

Speaking in sentences:  Suddenly it seems, Andrew is moving from two-word phrases to much more complex sentences.  The other morning, I brought his toy elephant into his room.  He looked at the elephant and said, “Good morning, elephant.  I am getting my diaper changed.”  Bryan and I exchanged shocked glances.  When did he learn how to talk like that!
He’s also started reciting books more.  He’ll often repeat a couple lines, but last night while he was taking his bath, he pretty much recited Freight Train to himself.  “Moving.  Going through tunnels.  Going by cities.  Crossing tressles.  Moving in darkness, moving in daylight.  Going, going (whispered) gone.”  It’s amazing to watch him learn and do new things.

We were reading a book this morning about 10 little fish, and he pointed and counted the 10 fish (sometimes counting to 11) several times.  He’s been really into counting for a few months, but it’s not until more recently that he’s started pointing and counting the actual number instead of pointing at a group of objects and just saying numbers for a while.  It’s so weird to think that someday he’ll be reading too!

Mom’s making progress?

August 1: I’ve been pretty wrapped up at work and with evening activities, so I’ve only talked to my mom on the phone the last few days.  Not much to report, but I thought that folks might like an update none-the-less.

Mom said that the leaking catheter seems to have slowed somewhat.  Yesterday (Tuesday), she went into the oncology clinic for a long time.  She had an appointment with Dr. Frontiera, and he said that he had talked with Dr. Matzke about scheduling a biopsy of the suspected Sister Joseph’s Nodule.  It was Dr. Frontiera‘s opinion, though, that the suspected nodule was just an old umbilical hernia.  Differing opinions can be hopeful!  I don’t think we have a date for the biopsy yet, but that’s in the works.

Mom was at the oncology clinic for about six hours, getting two bags of saline infused through IV.  She’s been drinking loads of liquids, but so much of it is leaking out of her liver as ascites that her blood pressure is getting pretty low, and she’s feeling fuzzy and tired, and generally dehydrated.  Mom’s brother Peter and his wife Marci came up from Iowa and visited Mom during her time at the clinic.

I talked to Mom briefly this morning, and she said that the leaking of catheter seemed to have maybe diminished, so that was hopeful.  She was discouraged that after getting all that fluid yesterday that her blood pressure was still low (99), and she is still feeling really light-headed.  Throughout the day today, she’s been feeling really wiped out.

We’re getting geared up for our annual trip out to Jack’s house this weekend.  Mom’s thinking about the shopping list (we have 15 attendees this year!), and Joe and I are going to acquire the food.

That’s about all I have to report today.
~Althea

Mom’s health update for June and July 2007

July 29: I’ve been holding off on posting anything about my Mom’s health for the last month because, while she has been having health complications, it hasn’t been clear what was going on, and she didn’t want to get people worried while we were waiting to find out answers from her wide team of health experts.  At this point, though, it is looking very likely that Mom’s cancer has returned.

Here’s the back story.
I haven’t posted about Mom’s health in many months because there hasn’t been much to say.  Here’s a link to past posts I’ve done on Mom’s health.  She was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in May 2005.  She then did chemo and chemoradiation throughout the summer with the hope of shrinking the tumor so it could be removed.  We met with several surgeons in the fall of 2005 who said they could not operate, but when Mom met with Dr. Farnell at Mayo clinic in December, he said he could operate.
Mom had the major Whipple Procedure done on January 11, 2006 to remove the tumor, most of her pancreas, and sections of intestine and stomach.  The surgery was very successful with the one blemish being that there was a positive margin on the Superior Mesenteric Vein.  That means that some tumor cells were left in Mom’s body, and given the fierceness with which they regrow, it made her more susceptible for recurrence.  We were told that follow-up chemotherapy would help prevent it from coming back.
Mom recovered well from the surgery.  She underwent several weeks of follow-up chemo, and over the summer and fall of 2006, she took part in a clinical trial for an immunization to help a person’s immune system fight off pancreatic cancer recurrence.
By fall 2006, Mom was feeling mostly back to normal…more easily fatigued, but generally good.  In April 2007, she started back up at work 30 hours/week at American Girl.  Every few months she has had a CT scan has happily showed no sign of recurrence.

Summer 2007
In late June, Mom’s abdomen started filling up with fluid.  By the end of June, she felt like she was eight months pregnant.  She had a CT scan on June 28.
On June 29, we met with Dr. Frontiera, her oncologist.  He said that she had a clot in the Portal Vein which drains the liver and spleen.  The Portal Vein is is formed by the superior mesenteric vein and splenic vein. Looking at the CT scan, he said that he saw a thickening or fullness in the vein, and said that the cause of the clot may or may not be tumor.  Having a clot in the Portal Vein puts stress on the liver and causes fluid, called ascites, to weep from the liver.  This fluid is what was causing Mom’s abdomen to swell.  Dr. Frontiera said that the main way of dealing with a clot in the Portal Vein is to put Mom on a blood thinner like Cumaden. Unfortunately, Mom has had two episodes of internal bleeding from taking very weak blood thinners, so putting her on a heavy-duty blood thinner carries with it some really serious risks.  Dr. Frontiera drained Mom of almost eight liters of fluid (a big relief for her), and tested the fluid to see if it contained cancer cells.
On July 3, we met with Dr. Frontiera again.  The results of the fluid (as well as repeat tests) showed suspicious cells, but did not confirm the presence of cancer.  Frontiera said that we should regard this as a recurrence.  He said that if she wanted to treat it, she could go on Gemzar weekly, but the problem is that response rates to Gemzar, the main pancreatic cancer chemo drug, are just depressingly low.
He said that in a best-case scenario, that the clot in the portal vein is being caused by scaring.  He said that Mom come in to the clinic every few days to be drained, or she could have an external catheter so she could drain the fluid herself.
On July 11, we met with Dr. Matzke, Dean Care’s pancreatic surgeon.  He said (all doctors do) that he was really impressed with how good Mom looks.  I think in reading over her chart that they are expecting someone quite a bit sicker.  Dr. Matzke said that he thought that the clot was the cancer coming back.  He said that not finding confirmation of cancer in the drained fluid in not uncommon.  My main thought at this time is, “Man, this guy is just really trying to burst my bubble of denial that this could be recurrence, isn’t he!”  Matzke thought that Mom should be on some type of blood thinner to try to free up the portal vein so her liver could drain properly, and was worried about how her liver will do longer-term as it is not able to drain except though some little veins that have developed to compensate for the clot.
We asked lots of questions about surgical options, and again, this nice, young doctor kept bursting our bubble.  He told us that no one would try to remove a tumor in this vein or to try to reconstruct the vein.  Matzke had worked for our magic Dr. Farnell at Mayo, and we asked him to give us a referral to see him.  Matzke helped make that referral possible.
Mid-July: After going in to the clinic to get drained every few days, Mom decided to have a permanent catheter installed so she could drain the astices herself.  She has been draining one-to-two liters each day.
This was kind of a rough time.  Mom was still working 30 hours per week, wasn’t feeling very good, and was trying really hard to visit and help her mom in Janesville, deal with the fluid issue, and make doctors appointments.  Her sick and vacation time at American Girl were down to just a few days, and poor Mom was more discouraged by this whole situation than I have often seen her.  To complicate the situation further, about a week after getting the catheter installed, it started leaking.  Actually, I think a better description is probably gushing.  Mom would be on her way to work, she’d stand up to get out of the car, and she would find herself soaked.  Dr. Frontiera tried several times to tighten up the stitches around the drain.  He suggested she try bed rest and drain frequently to help keep the pressure down and help it heal.  To our great displeasure, though, several weeks later, it is still leaking, flowing, whatever, and it’s keeping mom housebound.
July 25 – Trip to Mayo: Mom, Dad, Maretta, Kyle, Maretta’s friend Josh, and myself all met in Rochester, Minnesota to meet with the oncologist, Dr. Quevedo and with the surgeon Dr. Farnell. Given the difficulty of making a diagnosis from the CT scans, and given how few people are in Mom’s situation, we wanted to talk with some of the world’s experts before we made any decisions about how to proceed.
Mom’s weight has dropped quite a bit the last couple weeks, and she was feeling pretty light headed, but again, the doctors were all impressed with how good she looks.
Dr. Quevedo was very compassionate and gave us a lot of his time.  Unfortunately, his diagnosis was not what we wanted to hear.  He said that it looks very much like the cancer is back.  He did say that occasionally there is no cancer and that blood thinners can deal with a clot in the portal vein, but that it would be unprofessional of him to say that the cancer wasn’t back.  Quevedo said that he didn’t know the right answer about using blood thinners.  He said, “Do you cause harm by doing or not doing?  We can’t know.”  Quevedo talked about the pros and cons of going on a weekly infusion of Gemzar, and talked about the possibility of trying a Phase I clinical trial.  Dr. Quevedo said that it’s Mom’s decision about which of these treatments she wants to try.  When we pressed him about what he would do, he said that if it was his wife, he would suggest she do no treatments because he felt like the possible benefits of the treatments were outweighed by the side effects and the constant medical appointments.  Again, nice doctors giving us information we didn’t want to be hearing.
Dr. Quevedo was impressed with how calmly Mom was receiving all this information, the questions she was asking, and the fact that we were joking and occasionally laughing throughout these dire conversations.  That’s my mom!
Dr. Farnell didn’t have good information for us either.  He felt pretty certain that the portal vein is blocked by tumor.  Above that, he had carefully reviewed Mom’s CT scans and actually identified a few other places where he thinks he might be seeing tumor recurrence.  One is called a Sister Joseph nodule, and it’s located outside of the abdominal cavity a little above her belly button.  The other two spots he showed us are thickenings (a grey fuzzy area on the CT) around the Superior Mesenteric Vein (the good old SMV) and the Common Iliac Artery.  Farnell thought that the clot in the Portal Vein should be treated with blood thinners, because he was worried that the clot could propagate and cause complications.
Unfortunately, he took the rug out from under us by saying that surgery is just not an option.  He suggested that we get a biopsy of the Sister Joseph nodule.  He also took a look at Mom’s catheter can said that drains often will leak when there is a buildup of fluid in the abdomen.  He mentioned a “Denver Shunt” as the only other option for dealing with the fluid (astices) buildup, but didn’t recommend it because of concerns of complications.
So from our trip to Mayo, we learned the following:

  • This problem really most likely is cancer recurrence.  Hearing it from the doctors at Mayo made this seem a lot more real.  I feel like I need to still say though, that despite what the doctors think, the clot could just be scarring.
  • Surgery isn’t an option.  Not even at Mayo.
  • We should get the Sister Joseph nodule biopsied.  While we don’t want to have proof that we’re dealing with cancer again, we do want to know what we’re dealing with.
  • Using a blood thinner like Cumadin or Heparin has a lot of pros and cons.  We may want to see a vascular specialist to help us make this decision.
  • Going on Gemzar (aka Gemcitabine) for cancer recurrence has pros and cons.  The pros aren’t great.  The cons aren’t too bad either.
  • Trying out a clinical trial is an option (there are about 27 listed right now).  The purpose of a phase I is to determine dosage, so there’s a good likelihood of getting sick.  Also, there aren’t any trials available now that look like cures.  But this is an option if we want to do something.

Hey, that’s a pretty depressing list.  No wonder I’ve been feeling kind of down the last few days.  Mom is home now, continuing to deal with the leaking issue, and we’re all starting to try to figure out what all this means and where we go from here.  If in reading through this, you have questions, please let me know.
We’ve gotten through the last couple years through a combination of a positive attitude, a blissful state of denial when things were going well, and generally just being very appreciative of each other.  I hope that before too long, we can feel like we’re all moving forward with this new situation together.  For now, I’ll borrow a line of Anne of Green Gables, “Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day, with no mistakes in it yet.”