Cabernet and Carboplatin

I saw the documentary, Love, Gilda, last evening. In some ways I was dreading going to see it, but I also knew I had to see it. I’m glad I did. I’m thankful that the main focus was not on Radner’s ovarian cancer. It was mainly about what led her to be one of the funniest people to ever live. It was a joy watching the clips of her Saturday Night Live characters, but it was also heartbreaking to know of her struggle to be loved, to be thin, to be seen. The last part of the film focused on her life with ovarian cancer. It appears she went into remission, but only for a short time. Watching it I was reminded that although frontline treatment is still the same, there are new drugs being used for recurrence and I feel fortunate that should I recur, I will have more options available than she had. After seeming the film, I decided I wanted to read her book, It’s Always Something, which deals more with her diagnosis and life with ovarian cancer. This past week has been focused on wome

Anyone who knows me, even a little, knows what I think about going to the gym. Exercise is evil. I mean, I love to walk and riding 100 miles on a bicycle (when I could) was fun. And even Zumba. That was fun. But standing there on an elliptical for what seems like hours on end is torture. And those Cybex machines. What or who the hell is a Cybex? Evil. But I know I have got to get stronger. It will make the rest of my life easier, and if I should have a recurrence, will help me get through it. So I’m going to the gym. I also found a new physical therapist who gets it, actually examined me, and set me up with some exercises. Because of the cancer they won’t use the “modalities,” because there has been research that they may stir up dormant cancer cells, and I’d just as soon let them sleep. I am thankful that the gym I go to is not a Body Beautiful gym. It might be after work, but in the late morning. it seems to be populated by old farts like me, and guys who must work for themselves

My husband is a pilot, and when we land he always says, “cheated death again.” I suppose it’s kind of a running joke for us. He is a meticulous pilot and I love going up with him. I feel totally safe. But those were the first words I thought when my goddess of a clinical trial nurse just sent me an email telling me my scan was “beautiful” with no evidence of disease. I thought I was going to have to wait until Thursday when I saw my oncologist, but Amy knew that despite feeling good, having my last CA 125 be 8, I was still worried. Um, that’s because I am an ovarian cancer survivor and that’s what we do. I have had diarrhea this week, which is incredibly unusual for me, so I’m thinking, it’s back. I’m gaining weight (because I’m eating too much) so I’m thinking, it’s back. It’s a day with a y in it, so I’m thinking, it’s back. It’s Tuesday, the traditional night for Jerry and me to go out to dinner with our neighbors, but they can’t make it tonight. I’m really sorry, because they

There are days when I don't think about Ovarian Cancer and recurrence. As much. But I have a scan in two days and it is pretty much front and center in my brain. I have every reason to believe I will be fine. My most recent CA 125 was 8, and any swelling in my belly is from enjoying food and wine way too much. But just like every other woman who has been in my situation, there is that ever-present fear that microscopic cancer cells somehow evaded the surgery and numerous chemo blasts and they will show up on this scan. So between now until Thursday when I see my oncologist, I will lose some sleep, have hideous fantasies and try to live life the best I can. This past week I did what I could to keep this train moving forward. Though it was only once, I went to the gym. I walked about a mile and a half on the treadmill at a decent pace, at least for me. I tried the bike but it hurt my feet too much. I might give it another go with bike shoes. I also did a little work on my quads and