<p>Sunriseeast - as always you continue to amaze and inspire me.</p>
<p>I wish you all the best in 2012.</p>
<p>Sunrise, you are an amazing woman. Thank you so much for sharing with us. Before I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer at the end of July, your postings inspired me to look at the priorities in my life. Sometimes we get caught up in things that really don’t matter that much. Now I look at your story from a different point of view and tell myself that I can make it through this. I am struggling with extreme fatigue and side effects from chemo, but you have been through so much more and you are a warrior! I appreciate that you are willing to take the time to share with us, even when you haven’t been feeling well. Thank you, again.</p>
<p>Ellebud,
I love your post.</p>
<p>For so many in this thread, I wish all a victorious and healthy 2012</p>
<p>Sunrise, happy, healthy and prosperous 2012 to you! Wishing you the best in the new year and in the many, many years that will follow.</p>
<p>What a beautiful post, Sunrise. Thank you. To your health! May you regain it, and be with us for many years to come!</p>
<p>thanks everybody. Though I don’t thank you individually for all of your kind words, please know that your good wishes and kind words have been a TREMENDOUS help for me all throughout last 13 months. Writing has been a wonderfully therapeutic experience for me and you all rewarded me extravagantly for it. </p>
<p>In a way, it makes me feel a little sheepish to bask in such kindness from total strangers on account of the fact that I can do a few monkey tricks with words while so many women with even worse conditions are bearing it silently. After all, as advanced stage cancer patients with relapsed disease go, I am having it really easy. </p>
<p>HImom, dare I say, I completely understand what you have gone through. It’s hard to watch other people with your diagnosis disappear one at a time. Somebody once told me that I shouldn’t go to these web sites. However, this is how I collect information. And, as I said earlier, treatment decisions for advanced relapsed cancer like mine are more art than science and patient’s own advocacy and knowledge are so important, I can’t imagine just playing ostrich. Knowledge is power they say. Knowledge is life for someone like me.</p>
<p>Havehope, I am so sorry to have to deal with this. this is something I won’t wish upon anyone. Feel free to PM me if you would like to discuss anything: I had a crash course on ovarian cancer last 13 months. Mine is a bit ambiguous: ovarian or uterine (ambiguous origin), but it behaves the same way one way or the other and is treated the same way. Here, I really lucked out. The official diagnosis went out as “ovarian” and it made all the difference: if it had been filed as “uterine” there won’t even be clinical trials for me - this version of cancer with the uterine origin is so rare they don’t bother to do any research and since the trials are simply going by the nomenclature, they put down trial qualification as “ovaran” and if you are not, you won’t be allowed in. Such is the nature of the dumb luck (BTW: my own surgeon and second opinion pathologist from Mt. Sinai thought it was uterine in origin. The lone pathologist at the hospital where I was operated on disagreed. He was the official guy so he put “ovarian”. Bless his soul!). </p>
<p>Everybody: thank you, thank you and thank you.</p>
<p>As I mentioned previously, I will do my best to reward all of your kindness by getting well.</p>
<p>It’s been a week since your last post, and you are in my thoughts. Sending positive thoughts of the treatment combining with your strong spirit to send that cancer on the run! I hope you are feeling strong in both body and spirit.</p>
<p>Friends,</p>
<p>it just occurred to me that I have already outlived my life expectancy at the time of diagnosis. </p>
<p>At the time of my diagnosis, the life expectancy based on the “best” version of the applicable statistics was less than 1 year. It’s been 13 months, and in spite of a full on non stop chemo through this whole period with a short break in the middle (not to mention a major surgery), I am doing very well. </p>
<p>Now, here is something also very interesting about this whole statistics business. Once I pass the life expectancy mark, my personal odds are betting better and better. For instance, the best odds for 5 year survival for my diagnosis are about 15% at the time of diagnosis (hence less than 1 year life expectancy) - average was single digit. The longer the patient hangs around, the better the odds become. It’s called conditional probability. (trust me on this: I am a statistician).</p>
<p>Now, my odds for 5 year survival from the time of diagnosis is close to 30%</p>
<p>So, bottom line is,</p>
<p>With every single step I take, every breath of fresh air I inhale, every aggravating phone call with my mother (long story), every annoying marketing call timed exactly for the dinner time, every complaint I have whenever I pick up dirty socks of my son at home during the winter break, every crazy thing coming out of our “beloved” politicians (uhhhhh) and “adorable” cable news show hosts, my odds for survival are getting better and better.</p>
<p>I find this hugely uplifting. It does put things in perspective, does it not :)</p>
<p>(I get a scan next week. I hope the results come out good. I think the current treatment is working. My cancer-O-meter has been completely quite lately. I hope I am right).</p>
<p>Finger crossed for your scan.</p>
<p>Sunriseeast, I’ll be thinking of you next week! Best of luck with your scan.</p>
<p>Hurray for 13 months! Best wishes for a good scan!</p>
<p>Woot! Woot! I am celebrating the milestone that you reached along with you! Best wishes for health in 2012!</p>
<p>Another great post in 1168, sunrise. So good to hear from you, always.</p>
<p>Sunrise, thank you for your most recent uplifting post! I am so happy that you are able to remain so positive through all that you have have gone through. Looking forward to hearing the good news about your scan.</p>
<p>Sunrise - Best post yet. Good luck for the scan.</p>
<p>I am so glad you posted</p>
<p>Sunrise: I rarely post here but I’ve been keeping up with your journey, rooting silently on the sidelines. Cheering loudly for the good news in your latest post (the stats) and hoping the next scan is cause for hoots and hollers.</p>
<p>I second LINYMOM. I’ve not posted here, but have followed your journey. I’ve learned from your grace and determination. For that I’m thankful. Sending prayers.</p>
<p>Another follower here wishing you good scan news and happy that the meter is quiet!</p>
<p>Well, I got a CT scan today. (by the way, they had to poke me five times to get the IV contrast drip necessary for a clean scan in. Ughhhhhhhhh).</p>
<p>I hope the scan comes out good. If not completely clean, at least really good improvement.</p>
<p>My body tells me it should be so. My cancer-o-meter has been quiet for several weeks.</p>
<p>But what if my body’s signal is wrong…</p>
<p>Meanwhile, just in case the scan is bad, and we need to pivot and tweak the chemo regime, I have done quite a bit research and came out with a couple of ideas how they should be tweaked. I need an out of the box thinking, and I believe sometimes, it’s the OUTSIDER who can think out of the box. And, I am that outsider (meaning, I am not an oncologist).</p>
<p>I unearthed a couple of very interesting European clinical trial studies that never made their way into USA because the trials are not about new drugs (big $$$ potential for the drug company), but a different dosing schedules involving familiar drugs. No profit motive, no sponsor for glitzy trials. Most of US doctors are not aware of them. (though I found out that some open minded, innovative doctors are doing this now). </p>
<p>On Friday, I have a regular visit with my oncologist and chemo treatment. If the scan results are bad, I am planning to discuss these options, and if possible start on them the same day. I am starting to prescribe treatment for myself ;)</p>
<p>I am hoping that it won’t have to go that way, and we will merrily go on with the current treatment.</p>
<p>***** Thank you so much for your support. If the scan results are bad, can I cry on your collective shoulder? Phone calls with my mother have gotten very TOXIC lately, and I need to give my husband’s shoulder a bit of a break… (my mother has never been happy with what she has, and lately it is becoming much worse. I am the only one she can really talk to, so I have become the dumping ground for all of her alleged misery, most of which runs on the theme of how her children are not good enough for her, to her. She does not know what I have… I never told her. there is no point).</p>