HER2+ cancer not responding to targeted therapies

Hi Steph!

I know its somewhat counter-intuitive to pick a different hospital when there's ready access to a major research hospital, but cancers like mine are apparently so rare that it probably wouldn't make any difference in terms of finding someone with experience. Also, my treatment team simply treats patients. They don't have to be constantly publishing to keep their jobs. I'm a patient, not a guinea pig. My care is about me, not my doctor.

I've been treated at the other hospital before. Being part of someone's pet project without realizing it until much later was a terrible experience. My doc there was so wrapped up in how he thought I fit his research that he didn't even run the tests he should have, and my care was completely inappropriate as a result. I don't want to risk something like that happening with this cancer.

Now almost a year with this beast!

Both lungs are riddled with tumors, but most of them are dying, last we checked. I'm due for scans either Feb. or March. Kadcyla is working well so far, with some side effects, but none of them too troublesome, except maybe that my big toenails keep having to be removed. Kadcyla kills my cuticles, then the toenails die, and then really bad things start happening. My cough has come back, though, so it's possible that the gains may be starting to slow down, if not reverse. It won't be the first time this cancer has mounted a successful defense against chemo.

I beat Calamity Ganon, after finding all of the shrines, including the ones in the latest DLC. I have the dirt bike. I love the dirt bike. Favorite Korok-hunting tool, along with the Korok mask. My son and I also play Hyrule Warriors together when he has time.

Abby4G, thank you! I do believe in God, and I also understand that while He marks the fall of every sparrow, the sparrow still falls. He doesn't catch them. I also know that it's possible that the cancer itself may be my miracle. I was disabled before I got cancer, and finding it more and more challenging to survive when the cost of everything necessary, like housing, transportation, etc., has been going up while my own capabilities were decreasing. I have, in many ways, been very lucky, but I also knew I was facing a future in which I could be enough of a burden on my child so that it would be difficult for him to have a family of his own. The alternative would be living with people who, at best, would consider me a kind of potted plant, and at worst would kill me with neglect. I'm not exaggerating with that; someone almost did this already. This way, there is still time to spend with the people I love, and time for appropriate arrangements to be made, as well as time for everyone to get used to the idea of what's happening. The end will not be a shock, and might, given the lung mets, be a blessing when it comes.

Or who knows? Maybe I will survive this, and be able to find affordable, accessible housing, or stay with my son and be an asset rather than a liability. I can't see the future, but one thing I understand clearly is that we live in a world ravaged by sickness and death. My cancer isn't a curse, an anomaly, or a punishment. It's a normal process gone wrong. God's presence in my life isn't measured by how comfortable, healthy, or rich I am. It's that God is always present until the end, regardless of what the end might be, nudging us to see the bits of light in the darkness until the darkness ceases to seem so important--that is if we let Him! Of course, the worse things are, the harder that is, but in a world where children are killed by war, their own parents, preventable diseases, or starvation, I cannot believe that God would intervene personally on my behalf while ignoring them. I do believe He can be there for all of us, though, from the beginning to the end.

I needed to remember that, because I've been faltering lately. Thank you for the nudge. It's easy to feel abandoned when things go catastrophically wrong, or when they are dangerously uncertain, but we aren't. It's not about God coming in and fixing things. It's about Him simply being there, like a fire on a cold, dark night. The trick is letting go of our own fears, hopes, and expectations long enough to allow ourselves that warmth and light.

Having said all of that, I hope things go well for you. I struggled horribly with docetaxel, but not everyone does. You might tolerate it better than I did. I'm also a reminder that Herceptin doesn't always work. If you're like me, then not having it might work out better in the long run. We wasted precious time with it. And always, always, keep that Fire with you!