I’m feeling very inspired lately, my urge to make a difference is strong.
I sometimes get an overwhelming feeling of responsibility to prevent what happened to me, from happening to someone else.
I know I can’t save the world, I know I can’t prevent every terminal diagnosis, misdiagnosis, and suffering.
That’s not going to stop me from trying.
There’s a number of things I’ve learned over the past year or so, my brain is more awake. I’ve come to realize there are so many important aspects of healing, and improving quality of life.
The issue started with the moment I was diagnosed with terminal illness, it was like my life became less important. That my life was no longer going to be about living, but dying.
I don’t accept this view, this is why I’m challenging the way terminal illness is viewed. Even by ourselves.
The purpose of this post was to share some specific points of my treatment and management journey, so that maybe someone who’s living with metastatic pheochromocytoma or similar, can maybe take something from my experience. As we know, there’s no cure. Only symptom management.
But as I write, it’s become more powerful than just a bullet point list of things that have helped me.
Treatment isn’t a one size fits all, nor can it happen overnight.
I’ve suffered, I’ve triumphed, I’ve lost hope, regained hope, fought for my life, and continue to keep living. Really living. I’ve accepted that I’ll never ring a bell that tells the world “I’m cured!”
So I’m going to share with you a recap of my treatment journey, and then I’m going to expand into what I’ve learned about healing and improving my overall quality of life.
Feel free to get lost in the highlighted linked words and read detailed past experiences
November 2014– changed doctors and formed an entire medical team specializing in rare neuroendocrine tumors
I didn’t know why, but I felt that overwhelming urge to share. To document. I wanted my misdiagnosis to have purpose. I wanted to be heard. I wanted it to matter.
April 2015– started my blog, sharing my experience, channeling my anger into helping others.
May 2015- first treatment effort: had a massive surgery to de-bulk the amount of disease
(I had over 50 tumors at this time)
November 2015- started losing my hair, no known reason at the time other than stress on the body, started to see more physical impact of the disease
Exactly one year later after my terminal diagnosis, I received another life changing diagnosis.
My remaining adrenal died. I was now going to be reliant on steroids to live for the remainder of my life. I was now adrenal insufficient.
Atleast this explained the hair loss and not being able to keep my eyes open for more than 30 seconds at a time. Problem solved.
Not quite… but more on that later
January 2016- happy new year! Just kidding, time for my introduction to specialized radiotherapy. This is not radiation, this is direct radioactive poison into your blood stream.
Things would move quickly now, my symptoms were out of control. They needed to intervene, and quickly. But there’s a lot of prep to do for a serious procedure like this safely.
Within the first 20 days of January:
Bone marrow transplant: This was one of the most uncomfortable things I did, as far as pain. Who knew I’d have to go through several procedures just to get ONE treatment? It’s a stem cell transfer where you donate your bone marrow to yourself in case of failure after radiotherapy treatment. It’s quite genius actually. I highly recommend doing this, because if your marrow fails, you need to find a transplant match. In my case, it was just waiting for me on ice in a special vault. Cool, right?
pharmaceutical blockade: preparing my body for the extreme dose of poison. Trying to get my vitals to a low level so that when my tumors explode adrenaline during treatment, I won’t die.
Complications: my thyroid stopped working. More medication for life. But atleast I won’t keep suffering from all those weird unexplained symptoms, right? Wrong, my adrenal insufficiency would continuously be an issue with all of the stress on my body, I could never get enough cortisol. I was burning it too quickly, my body was too stressed from all of the prep, I hadn’t even done the treatment yet.
Well now that I’m ready for MIBG, it’s time to administer the treatment.
January 20th: 3:30pm-5:30pm I became a medical experiment, a spectacle. One of the first to undergo such a treatment at the hospital for this disease. A scary, and confusing time for everyone involved. You can read about my experience here
All better. Just kidding, I actually felt a lot worse. I was in so much pain, and I couldn’t get my attacks under control. The MIBG treatment actually set off my tumors more, so I was suffering greatly. I was praying every day for a moment of reprieve. I thought I’d never see a good day again. I didn’t know what it felt like to be normal anymore. I just knew pain.
March 2016– “I don’t know what to do next…” this is not something you want to hear from your highly specialized doctor. But even the best doctors become perplexed when it comes to such a rare disease. Especially when it’s not cooperating. At all. It was just getting worse. It would be a bit of time before I’d get the official round of data compiled to know whether or not it had worked. Let’s stay hopeful
May 2016- it had kind of made a difference, but the results were ‘disappointing’. Great. Now what do we do? More tests of course.
June 2016– test month. Sooo many tests. So much travel. We are exhausted 😢
July 2016- it can’t get worse? Can it? Until it did. Chemo is being discussed. No no no, chemo is the last option. That’s what I was told in the beginning and it never left my mind. “Chemo is only something we do when there’s nothing left, it’s not a very effective option for this type of cancer”. So why are we doing it now?! It’s not the end. I’ll keep fighting. I promise! I’ll do anything.
Too bad, it’s time to introduce another team member: an oncologist.
July 27 2016- the oncologist. I actually really liked him, I still do. He’s an essential part of my team. Every mind is better than one. But I didn’t agree with his ideas at the time. I did NOT want to chemo, I did however that day learn about immunotherapy, TK inhibitor therapies, and so much more.
August 2016: new plan. I want PRRT. I heard about it from a support group, yes that’s right. A potential radiotherapy experimental treatment I was betting my future on, I heard from another thriver. See the importance of sharing? So we pushed heavily for this treatment, but it was still in clinical trial phase, oh boy. I’d need to meet a lot of requirements, only 50 people were being accepted.. only 4 places in the world were doing it.. ok my odds aren’t looking great.
You haven’t met doctor cupcakes.
Within 24 hours I was accepted into the testing for the clinical trial. My husband is a miracle worker, or he just really loves me. This is only part 1, a highly specialized scan that can look at the tumors at a cellular level. This was considered the gold standard. I wanted it, I needed it. I was getting it!
Here’s the thing with the scan, it’s not like a regular CT scan or MRI. These types of scans are specific to neuroendocrine tumors like mine. It won’t pick up a regular cancer. It also requires your tumors to be receptive. Still following me?
In order for your tumors to light up on the scan, a gallium scan is designed to be highly sensitive to somatostatin receptors. If your tumors don’t have this, they won’t light up. And you can’t get the PRRT treatment.
Lucky for me… my tumors lit up like a Christmas tree.
Isn’t it weird you can be excited to see an abundance of tumors on a scan? This disease is weird.
I’m getting tired, so please read about my PRRT experience here. In one year I did 3 super high doses of radiotherapy, different treatments entirely, and so many tests your head would literally spin.
January 2017- I still needed 2 more rounds of PRRT. It was so hard on me. It seemed like I had every side effect possible. My experience wasn’t going as smoothly as others. I kept wondering 💭 why do I always have it so much worse? Am I weaker? Do I just complain more? No, it can’t be. This is too much.
Fast forward ⏩
I had completed the 2 more rounds of PRRT. I had such high hopes. It was getting more difficult to live, to function, stairs were impossible, I was living in the main room of my house, in a hospital bed. My life was very different now.
We sold our home, I moved into my dream condo. No stairs, open concept, cozy, peaceful view, everything I ever wanted to be comfortable and continue to find a way to live with this disease. You have to find ways to adapt. This was ours.
November 2017- I spent my first night on my new condo, I slept beside my husband for the first time in months. Since the bedroom was accessible now.
I received a phone call, unknown caller. I always know that’s bad news. It’s the hospital.
“Can no longer participate in the clinical trial…”
“Tumors not responding…”
“Just keep her comfortable”
This is what I remember. I’m sure there was a lot more to it. But what I took from it, I’m dying. I’m being told this is the end of my road over the phone. There’s no more hope. I politely asked my husband and my mom to give me some time to myself. I locked myself in my room. This seemed like another moment I should document. I felt I should grieve privately, but my heart was telling me I should share my raw feelings and reaction. I thought of all the other people who had been in this situation, and I felt that urge to share again. It was bigger than me. So I filmed my initial thoughts.
Palliative– I went down a very confusing road, it all seemed to blur together. The only time I got out was to go to hospital appts. I could barely make it to the bathroom alone. My home care team always wanted to talk about ‘my wishes’. My wish is to live, for as long as possible. My wish is to not talk about dying. But that’s apparently not an appropriate wish when you’re palliative.
Unbelievable things started happening.. I started to realize what it really was like the moment your status changes to ‘palliative’
You’re seen differently. You no longer get the same options. Your life becomes about dying. When to die. How to die. Where to die.
It was when I was kicked out of my local hospital for refusing to sign a DNR (do not resuscitate) that I realized… I’m in trouble. This is no joke. I need to get better, I need to show them! I’m still here, I’m not dying, I have so much life in me, please listen!
My husband and I started to feel very overwhelmed and for the first time… unsafe. Unsettled. We no longer felt protected. Nothing made sense. He would keep me alive with breathing machines we bought ourself, to treat my pneumonia at home.
We clung to each other, we held onto our last shreds of hope, we would lay down in my twin sized hospital bed that made its way back into my living room. We would hold each other so damn tight, as if I’d disappear if he let go, the tears falling on one another, reminding us that I’m still alive. I’m still here. You can feel me. My heart is beating against yours, my tears are warm, only he could see it.
Everyone else was giving up on me.
The trauma we went through during this period… it’s indescribable. So much happened. I’m not going to go into it, you can choose to look further into my blog, but this post isn’t for that.
My pain was out of control, despite “keeping me comfortable”, home care was unable to get my pain under control. My medications kept increasing, the pain would get worse.
Any time we would call for advise, they’d say to give more medication. Get me out of pain. The cycle would repeat, and I’d be in more pain.
What is happening? Is this what dying feels like? You’re just in a constant state of pain? I thought it was supposed to be comfortable.
Maybe I wasn’t ready to die
I will quote myself from a previous blog entry:
“As my limbs become so weak I can no longer walk around, touch becomes unbearable, my speech is becoming more strained, my brain becoming mush. The pain is excruciating. My doses become even more frequent”
“So tired. So so tired”
“As my breath becomes more and more painful, more shallow, harder to gasp for air, my skin begins to heat up so much that it starts to fall off. Why is this happening? It has to be the cancer. Time for more medication”
“Miranda is having a lot of breathing troubles, what do I do??”
“She’s unable to walk or and can barely form a sentence, she’s passing out ALL the time, can’t keep her eyes open! What do I do??”
November 2018- if we weren’t going to get the proper help locally, it was time to get me to my super doctors. The ones who kept me alive before all of this palliative care nonsense. If my husband had to carry me on his shoulders to the car, he would have. Luckily I had a wheelchair. We drove to Montreal, I was admitted immediately. No one could figure out why I was so damn sick. Why I was in so much pain. How could I be on so much pain controlling medication, but be suffering THIS much? I was a medical mystery, sometimes a zebra is a unicorn.
Every.single.day was a guessing game, what’s wrong with Miranda?
I will quote myself again from a previous blog post …
“The one thing I knew so far: every nurse, doctor, and specialist could not believe how much pain medication I was taking. Some didn’t even want to administer it. I was getting worried, it’s the one thing that gives me relief, why are they so against it?”
“My nurse, we will call her Angel, she outright said to Serge that the medication is what’s causing all of my pain. She said that some people react differently to opioids, and that not everything meant to help you is going to. Sometimes it can be the problem, and you can have a reverse effect. Just like that, mind blown”
“But it can’t be that. I have cancer, it’s what’s causing my pain. I’m dying. They told me. All my doctors told me. That’s what everyone has been saying for years now, take more medication to be comfortable”
I was so angry at Nurse Angel, what did she know? Medication, bullshit
Fast forward two months in the hospital 🏥
It was my medication, kind of. What no one knew at this time was that I had suspected mast cell disease. Even as I’m writing this I am not officially diagnosed but being actively treated.
Since the very beginning, the unknown sensitivity to treatment, to chemicals, my amplified side effects, my heightened symptoms, the unexplained pain, the inability to breathe, the declining unexplained health… it all makes sense suddenly
My master cells were being attacked by the disease, causing them to be broken. High levels of mast cells mediators were being released into my system, similar to my tumors, bursting chemicals into my system that make you flare up into extreme reactions.
The pain medication was making everything worse, since it was making the mast cell flares worse and more frequent. It was just a vicious cycle that wouldn’t end.
Until we fought like hell for answers. Until we demanded that I wouldn’t die like this. Until we changed the narrative. We saved my life. You can read about that part here
The funny part? I wouldn’t have known about mast cell disease had it not been for another patient/friend/advocate. I was too sick and confused to understand it at the time. So I didn’t push for answers.
I accepted that it was the medication causing it, and I moved on.
It would be an incredibly long road of healing, it still is.
Healing – we moved away, we moved to the city that saved me. We wanted to be close to the hospital that saved my life. We wanted to feel safe. So we left our friends and family, took our life savings, and we moved to what I imagined would be my ‘retirement home’. I still thought I was going to die soon, but I was happy to do it in peace. Without pain. With a clear mind.
But that’s not what happened is it?
I started walking to the elevator, using my legs, my muscles had completely died at this point. So I walked little steps every day. I finally made it to the door of my building. Then outside to the street. Then around the block. Then down to the water.
My body was healing, it was slowly recovering from all of the trauma. I was reconnecting with myself. We were finally able to take a breath.
Remember that moment when I started writing this, when I said I never thought I’d have a moment of reprieve? Well I did. I finally experienced it that day I made it to the water.
My mind was next, I was healing physically, but now I needed to heal mentally. We both did. We had gone through so much, how do you come back from that?
I was unable to share for quite some time during this period, I lost my ability to share my story.
The minute I got my voice back, I started sharing slowly, cautiously. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t understand it myself.
I didn’t understand how this could happen to me. How something could go so wrong. How I could be so close to death… but be so alive. I could have died because of a lack of knowledge.
I don’t like to blame, it’s not healthy for my mental well being. The lack of knowledge that exists is not a fault of anyone, it’s a flaw in our medical system that exists because of the rareness of this disease. It’s not fair, but it’s real.
Why do I share? Because it’s going to educate whoever reads this.
It’s going to push boundaries of the rules we are supposed to follow. We are supposed to be good patients and accept our fate.
Well I’m reclaiming my power, I’m slowly every day working on myself mentally and physically.
I’m doing things that bring me joy, I’m sharing things that make others aware, I’m connecting with who I’ve always been, I’m learning why I started this blog in the first place.
It wasn’t a choice, it was my purpose, it was a promise.
I promised I wouldn’t let this cancer take my fabulous, “Fabulous is your light, your smile, your energy, your positivity, your willfulness, your vitality, passion, excitement, beauty, laugh, and how you share it!” –
What you’re about to read is the very first statement I made when I started this blog. The blog that changed my life and so many others.
“This is my very first post, my first time writing a blog, and my first time speaking freely about my personal journey with pheochromocytoma cancer…. and staying fabulous while doing it!
Pheo VS Fabulous was born from the promise that I would never let this disease take away the one thing I could control, and I’ve labeled that my fabulous. When I became ill I realized how much we take for granted, and it started with how day to day tasks are so challenging when you’re battling an illness like pheochromocytoma cancer, that’s when I decided I wouldn’t let it that away from me. It’s more than just looking a certain way, it’s about BEING fabulous, strong, and positive when you have every reason not to be.
The danger of something being so rare is that it goes undetected, unrecognized, and is one of the most misdiagnosed conditions. Leaving many of us undiagnosed, and looking for answers.
If you’re reading this, you might still be looking for some…
My goal is through sharing my vulnerabilities with all of you, finding the courage to share something so painfully personal, someone else may have less of a challenge in the future of being diagnosed, treated, and living with this disease, #pheochromocytoma – or any other ‘neuroendocrine cancers. #netcancer #raredisease
The idea is that the more I share, the more information there will be available for a disease where this is so much lacking. Every procedure, every test, every treatment I will suffer through – I will continue to share my experiences so that others don’t have to keep grasping for answers like I did.
Although there is so much to cover… first off, pheo-chromo-cy-whatta?! We will get there darlings, I just want to say…
This blog is meant for awareness:
Awareness for a disease that only a handful of people in this massive universe know about, probably only because they were diagnosed”
Isn’t that incredible? I told you, it was my purpose. Before I even knew what was I was talking about, why I was saying it, and what it would mean. I knew.
NOW – I’m finally in a place where I feel things are improved and better controlled. I have good days, I never thought I’d say that.
I think the most important aspect is treating comorbidity, if you have other illnesses going on, and they’re not being treated as effectively or focused on as much as the main cancer, the issue is it exhausts the nervous system and keeps triggering the Pheo episodes. Everything from the adrenals, the thyroid, mast cells, anything that can be impacted, make sure it’s being properly treated. Even my endometriosis finally being diagnosed and treated has helped, because it took so much pain and stress off my body. Pheo is so triggered by stress, so the more stress we can eliminate from our bodies physically, the better quality of life we will have.
I started this blog post wanted to share a bullet point list of what has helped me, my meds, my treatments, but I think my heart needed to share, and my soul needed to be emptied of everything I’ve been holding onto.
I started this entry by saying I sometimes get an overwhelming feeling of responsibility to prevent what happened to me, from happening to someone else. So now I’ve shared everything I possibly can to do that. Even after I’m gone, my story and my information will remain available forever.
I will continue to share, every experience, every new piece of the puzzle, but most of all… I’ll continue to share why I have hope.
We can’t heal until we are treated, so hopefully this will help you begin your journey for better treatment. I truly hope you will be able to feel that moment of reprieve I described.
My husband and I often say “we have cancer”. A cancer diagnosis affects everyone involved, your spouse, your kids, parents, your friends, anyone who is a pivotal part of your life.
Anytime we’re in the doctors office we catch ourselves saying “we”, and we will be greeted with odd looks. But that’s the thing, WE do have cancer. It hits home like a bomb, it shakes up all of our worlds. One is physically fighting the disease, the other is fighting in every other way on their behalf.
We fight for one another when the other is down, we are each other’s voice when we don’t have one, and we continue to carry the load whenever we need to for one another. That’s a partnership. That’s a family.
The first instinct that everyone wants to do is help, fix, and act. Everyone gets into a very adrenaline like state the first few months after diagnosis, just going through the motions, trying to hold it together. This is normal.
However, it’s so important to be communicating. My husband and I in the beginning would hide our feelings a lot not to upset each other more. We didn’t even realize we were doing it.
He would be so overwhelmed with the fear of losing me, and I’d be overwhelmed with the thought of losing him. I hear a lot of people go through the same experience, but the issue is we often don’t communicate our fears to one another. This can be challenging for a lot of people.
We end up getting a bit edgy, holding in so many toxic emotions, we need an outlet. We HAVE to talk about it!
It’s important for it at least sometimes be with each other, that way everyone knows how sensitive to be with one another, how patient, and where your mindsets are at.
The thing is with the instinct to act, is that we’re always wanting to jump into motion the moment our loved one is suffering. We want to find a solution, fix their problem. We try to control all the things we can control.
Meanwhile feeling completely helpless, and out of control.
It’s a vicious cycle.
Even after all this time fighting this disease, and knowing it’s better to just listen to someone’s fears and thoughts… whenever my husband is having a tough time or not feeling well, I STILL have the instinct to react and try to mend my his heart, his body, or his mind. I think it’s just in our nature.
So I can only imagine how he feels with me. He has way more restraint than I do though! 🤭
That’s the thing, once we understand that we will ALWAYS have that immediate urge to fix… but first, we must listen! Truly listen. Let the other person talk whenever they’re ready, only when they’re ready. Offer for them to talk about what’s bothering them, ask them..
“do you want to talk about it?” Don’t push too much or ask too many questions. Just be a sounding board. Also, giving a choice is very empowering.
When the person has truly gotten everything off of their chest, in time… we can start introducing helpful solutions, small acts of care, and things that help, but not necessarily FIX… just alleviate some of the pain or pressure they’re holding onto.
This can be by simple things. Like massage, meditating together, taking a walk in the fresh air, setting a time each week to have vent and have an open communication session, anything that works for your rhythm in your household.
It’s so important to remember that when someone is sick, we are ALL feeling it in different ways. Add on the pressure of the pandemic…. and oooo boy, it really is a life altering and uncertain time.
When supporting one another, try to think:
“how would I want someone to respond to ME right now?”
“What would make me feel better in this situation?”
“What kind of support would I appreciate after sharing what I just shared?”
If we are mindful of this, we can offer better support to our partner or family. Anyone who is involved.
If you’re trying to support a friend or a family member (not your partner or someone in the household), the same rules apply. You should consider everyone involved.
So if you’d like to reach out and help, try to make suggestions that take a bit of pressure of everyone.
Whether that be a kind gesture like offering to bring groceries, drive them to an appointment to give the care giver a break, or simply send them a little thoughtful note, letter, book, maybe an uplifting journal, anything to just brighten their day. As we all know, most of us have more bad days than good.. so chances are, you will completely change their day or week with one small gesture of help or kindness.
I will share more soon on how to support a loved one with cancer, but for now I just found it important to remind us all…
Five years ago I was told I had 1-5 years to live. I sat in a white office with the same diabetes posters and bland medical facts I had looked at several times, and contemplated how angry I was. Angry because had I not been so ‘rare’, something might be different. Perhaps someone might have listened to me, instead of blaming my symptoms on anxiety. This was the worst day of my life.
If someone had just listened to me while I complained of symptoms for years, I would not be sitting here listening to how I had 18 tumors that metastasized all over my organs, and were now killing me at an aggressive rate.
I left the office that day SO angry, but that anger turned into determination. The fiercest determination I could have ever felt, I was not going to die because I wasn’t heard.
I would be heard.
For the last five years, I’ve been heard. I may have suffered along the way, I may have had to do every form of treatment possible, but I’ve been heard.
Not accepting my fate was one of the best decisions I could have made, even after countless disappointments and setbacks, despite being told again and again mountains of bad news, I didn’t give up.
We didn’t give up.
I have news …
Today I sat in a white office, waiting to see my oncologist to hear an update of my cancer progression. For the first time in the last five years, I held onto the hope I felt countless times, and waited for news.
It’s always bad news …
Not this time.
Today, for the first time since my diagnosis, I was told I was stable.
There’s no cure for the cancer I have, not at this stage. I was given palliative care, and supposed to await death. I was sent away to die at 24 years old.
I didn’t accept that, I fought. Hard.
Now I’m stable!!! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?
Stable means that for now I don’t have to continue treatment, I can take a break. Stable means I don’t have to go do any more scans for 6 whole months, 6 months! Stable means I can be in less pain, it means less attacks.
It means hope...
I’m writing this with tears in my eyes, because when I started this journey I just wanted to make a difference in as many peoples lives possible. To prevent suffering like mine. Today I feel that I can finally GIVE hope, the hope I’ve been clinging to so hard for the last few years.
Many of you have followed my journey from the beginning, clinging onto that hope just as hard. I’m finally able to tell you that I have good news, and it feels incredible.
If you’re reading this and you’re going through treatment, if you’re in pain, if you’re suffering, if you’ve just received your diagnosis, wherever you are in your journey… just know that I’ve been there.
Now I’m here.
It’s an amazing thing.
My life will never be normal, and I’m certainly not cured, but this is the first time I can say that I’m able to breathe a little. I don’t have to plan my life around what treatment is next, wondering if it will work, or what side effects it will have. I can just live. For now, I can breathe again.
If you’d like to see more of my journey, and learn about what treatments I’ve done… take a look around my blog. My most recent treatment plan was PRRT, although scary, it definitely made a difference in my condition.
Not giving up saved my life, being heard by the best of doctors for this condition… changed everything.
Never, ever, give up.
Hope is the hardest thing to have, but it’s worth it.
Having a neuroendocrine tumor is complicated, we hear this all the time.
I’d like to break down a few topics that are well.. yes, complicated.. but can be better understood in order for us to enjoy a better quality of life.
Before I explain where I’m going, let me tell you where this all began…
It all started when I was hospitalized for 2 whole months, one of the symptoms I was having was extreme facial flushing. I was literally roasting like a turkey. My skin was peeling off, I was so uncomfortable and in pain.
This was a side effect from my tumors secreting their awful hormones. No one could seem to offer me any solution, until one day…
I met one of the endocrinologists on staff and he immediately said he would start me on this magic pill that would get rid of my flushing. I thought he was crazy, how could there be such a thing that exists and NO ONE mentioned it before? How can so many other people I know be suffering and no one knows about this?
Little did I know, this magic pill was ALSO going to balance my moods, by reducing the amount of serotonin in my body. Bingo, so many complicated topics are now so easy!
Taking medication isn’t really a choice when you have a neuroendocrine tumor, but certain types of medications can be dangerous, even fatal. This isn’t always explained in detail, or at all. Why? Because our tumors secrete hormones that make it difficult to be matched with certain drugs. A lot of medications actually cause the same type of secretion as our tumors, making it the perfect storm.
I don’t normally like getting too scientific, or talking about specific drugs, but if it can help so many people with this disease be more comfortable… I’ll take the risk.
Have you ever heard of the term serotonin storm? Who here has been told that they can’t take an anti-depressant, or that it’s dangerous with our disease? Who is currently suffering with depression and can no longer take their medication?
Let me be the one to explain why these medications can be dangerous:
I’ve heard of a lot of people suffering with depression with this disease, but the problem is… most typical anti-depressants produce serotonin. (The same hormone that our tumors produce), making a serotonin storm! This can be fatal, or just extremely dangerous to the body. Which is why they say to avoid SSRI medication when you have a neuroendocrine tumor.
What did any of this have to do with my flushing I was talking about earlier?
Well, that’s why I call it the magic pill…
Most people who have a neuroendocrine tumor that is secreting serotonin will experience flushing, following so far?
These tumors also secrete a lot of other hormones, throwing off our moods. Creating a chemical imbalance in the body. Causing depression. But since we can’t take regular anti-depressants that doctors will prescribe, what can be done?
Aha! The magic pill. Chlorpromazine is considered a serotonin antagonist, it inhibits the action of serotonin receptors. Without getting too scientific, it also works similarly for dopamine, another hormone that’s secreted by our tumors.
This one pill that was prescribed for my facial flushing, happened to take care of several other issues for me, because of its root purpose, balancing out that ‘perfect storm’.
I’ve heard so many people lost hope because of their depression and not being able to properly treat it. I myself was at my end with my mood swings, as well as the most uncomfortable side effect – facial flushing. Until I began this medication, it changed everything for me.
It may not be for everyone, and I’m certainly no doctor… but I thought it would be best to share this little bit of knowledge with my fellow zebras. Maybe, just maybe, it can help you too.
We think they own them, we signed them over the moment we agreed to save our selves from the disease that’s killing us every day, see how that works?
Cancer: you get to kill me.
Doctors: you get to save me by any means necessary
Me: I TECHNICALLY have a say… but…
Believe me, there is ALWAYS a but
If you start saying no to things, how can they save you by any means necessary?
Anyone can go on from the outside and say there’s always a choice etc etc, and yes there absolutely is. We always have choices, mine often look something like this:
your veins aren’t working for the 189th time in your life, let’s rush you off to a secret room after after having poked you 7 times – and we will surprise you with a procedure you swore you would NEVER.EVER.EVER do Again – (text here) I wrote about in previous times to GREAT lengths because it caused you such trauma the last therapy during MIBG (and out of all the things you’ve had done.. that’s saying a lot), just the mention of it is traumatic.
My words aren’t coming out, no one is listening to me. What good would it do anyways? It’s now my only alternative to receive the treatment I’m here for.
Ever wonder why the term cancer sucks is so popular? Why so many people want to say fuck cancer? ….
this is why.
It’s because of situations like this, when you are no longer a person, when you no longer have a say in your own body in order to save yourself..because you know that you’re damned if you do and you’re damned if you don’t.
Part 1: 05/23/2017 – PRRT treatment prep
But I’m tired now
I’ll leave you with something good, as I always do… I was greeted with my Doctor cupcakes (my husband), after some kisses 💋, and pain control, I was ready to start my treatment in a little less agony.
(My clinical trial doctor) is amazing, and does everything to administer the treatment in a comfortable fashion.
The treatment itself was a bit improved VS the last few times.
More on that later once I’m not so traumatized from the morning, and tired & in pain.
There are two things this disease has made me become an expert with:
learning how to be okay with never leaving your little comfy space (or rather being confined to it).
constantly leaving that comfort zone you’ve been confined to for the purpose of being EVERYTHING but comfortable.
Luckily I’ve acquired the most important lesson of my own, & that was to stay fabulous no matter what. Have YOU guys figured out the meaning of ‘Staying Fabulous’ yet?
This past year my health has declined significantly despite doing the most treatments packed into one time frame ever.
With that said, my wardrobe mostly consists of comfy pyjamas, my hair is done by my husband (bless his heart). Speaking of hair, let’s be real… I can’t even wash my own hair, there I go again painting a whole different picture for you guys. I have care almost every day, and a lot of things I’m unable to do. Fabulous means SO many different things, but I still haven’t lost my fabulous, even if I’ve lost my ability to do all of these things by myself.
When I choose to do my makeup it takes me sometimes close to 5 hours or more, but I don’t mind because it’s every couple of months or so – and it makes me SO happy! Despite what I share in photos, we create a picture to make others happy as well.
What matters is the love, the laughter, the same outlook I’ve promised to have from the beginning hasn’t changed.
My message is being delivered with the same sparkle (most days) ☺️✨ because that’s what PHEO VS FABULOUS is all about.
Regardless of everything that we have been going through to make it here, we’re here, and we feel just as grateful as ever.
When we were challenged, we leaned on each other for the support we so badly needed.
We felt so blessed for the support we constantly receive.
It isn’t in me to give up, the only thing to do now is move forward. To unfortunately just keep receiving another treatment and see what’s next.
What IS next you ask?
Remember option 1 or 2? Well, today is # 2. Actually this week is a bit of both… except today is …
leaving the spot I’m most comfortable in. (You know, normally I’m confined to my house)
AND, this week is being confined to a space … but unfortunately not the space I’m most comfortable in, quite the opposite actually – I wouldn’t call the hospital or a radiation room my comfort zone. 🏥☠️
BUT that’s the life of being terminally ill 😷 treatments, clinical trials, being radioactive, a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do! ✌🏼🏥👸🏻
After all that jazz I will be laying in the big spaceship scans later in the week… pretending I’m getting a facial in my Dream bungalow house in the trees that has NO stairs, one of those swim spa pools where my poor body can float all year round, and a little all year round sunroom for my puppies & me to relax when I’m feeling down 🏡 sounds wonderful right? My mind is escaping there already.
Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming ✨✨✨
Ok, time to glow friends 👋🏽😄
Tuesday is the actual day for treatment, PS 🏥☢️ In case you guys forgot what treatment it is, it’s the PRRT clinical trial – this will be my fourth round.
(Which also happens to be serge and my 7 year anniversary 😑, which also happens to somehow ALWAYS be spent in the hospital 😪😭)
After having said all I have to say in my last Post, gotten that off my chest… everything I’ve been feeling over the past few days…
we are here. At the hospital that will give me my third round of my clinical trial – PRRT
We travelled yesterday several hours into the night to eventually arrive to the hospital that will eventually administer the experimental liquids that maybe or maybe will not help me diminish some of this pain I’ve been feeling. Maybe it will do nothing. Perhaps it will make me worse. I don’t know.
What I do know is that I was absolutely terrified the last few days, thinking about just driving here and adding to my state of pain, and then actually having to endure treatment?! HA!
of course then having to even consider the next few months…. ugh, my worsening body, and the NEXT round. I just can’t.
I’m not one to cry but it hurts so much lately, kidney stones, complications, the attacks, everything seems to compile at once and just want to break you down.
Well I am broken, but I’m still going to take whatever pieces of me are left and fight this awful cancer and get this Treatment done, that’s why they call it ROUND 3 – they’re throwing me in the ring with some help…well i always win. I always win. I always win.
To my person,
my eyes reflect the longing for the moments we should have had together and will never see, but love for the time spent together everyday, yet I feel such pain when you cherish the simplicity in our mundane routine, and even more pain when I know that you feel everything I feel.
I love you more than words can ever share, and I wish to go with you as many places as we were ever intended to go, with me in a state where I can enjoy it – this can’t be it. This pain cannot be it.
But if it is… my gift to you is that you were the only one who truly saw what this disease did to me throughout this whole time. The relentless pain of this 24/7 psychological and physical warfare, you’re my number one first. Before anything else, you’re the one who I fight for and dig deep to find my last smile for each time, because you’re the one who’s always there making me laugh.
So if it ends up that this it, things don’t go our way and I’m still in so much pain – just know that I will dig deep and find my smile for you baby.
like you say… we’re going through something so beautiful, when do you ever get to experience this?
To my beautiful wife,
We have done allot…
But I had so much more I would of loved to do. Just spending time with you is allready a gift. And one day we will do lots. So let’s go get you in to shape. Quebec here we come. I am bringing you my most precious diamond it’s a bit of a diamond in the rough health wise so please polish it up verry well so I can take her all around the world and show how priceless she is.
but you already knew that – I just had to grab your attention
The number one complaint you will hear from patients who suffered from being misdiagnosed or being undiagnosed is that nobody listened to them
Because they were “too rare”
These are the people who then had to hear these words, the diagnosis that shattered their entire world… Just much too late for it to count …
“There’s no cure, we can only manage the symptoms and pain ”
“With the limited information we have.. People live for about 1-5 years”
“it’s 1 in 5 million once it spreads, I’ve never seen it personally, you’re very rare!”
It’s Rare Disease Day
I thought that I would offer a different perspective – one that could explain what this day means better than anyone, and why it’s so important to share this message.
Today is rare disease day, they call them zebras.
Zebras are the last diseases that doctors look for. The obvious ones are called Horses, those are the ones the Doctors are used too. So they get to cure those on time.
I have a Zebra at home so it’s the one the doctors didn’t catch in time. She is my beautiful wife 26 years old she is what we call paleative.
My wish is that the doctors would of listened when she was telling them that her illness was back and did proper testing instead of blaming it on anxiety, it would of been treatable she would of had 1 thumor instead of 16 impossible to treat.
So please doctors I beg you to listen to your Zebras when they say they know their illness is back and don’t look at the ‘Horse’ if they are Zebras. Continue on treating them like Zebras.
If you have a Zebra in your family fight for them don’t let the doctors see them as Horses.
I’m very happy of how I’ve taken care of you since you were diagnosed butt I really regret the way I did not react before. If I would of known better it would of been different. I know it’s not just my fault but I still carry with me a lot of blame, I always think if I had known more back then I would have fought harder for you, if I just would have known there were more tests, I trusted in them and I shouldn’t have. I would have never taken no for an answer, we just didn’t know what more to do. We didn’t know what to research for, we didn’t know we had to. And I’m so Sorry baby😪
Now we are doing everything we didn’t know how to do back then, and it’s helping others. I’m so proud of you. You will help so many other people not feel the way we did that day. I love you so much!!
Thank you for reading!!!
This is what it’s all about, to hopefully help rare diseases like mine (pheochromocytoma) cancer become less of an unknown disease to all involved. Eventually making these misdiagnoses, and undiagnosed patients less of a problem.
Help us become less rare.
Help keep sharing the information.
Every day I struggle through my pain to write any little detail so that there will finally be information available – any information available to others about this rare disease. Explain what it is to participate in treatments, procedures, and rare trials real time…I patiently repeat myself as I explain what pheochromocytoma is over and over again to anyone and everyone.
All I ask is that you share my message further, just SHARE!
I have one common goal in mind… help make this disease less painful for the next person. Make this disease less of a struggle for the next family, less of a mystery for the next patient, more information available to the next medical team, and hopefully…
Whatever they can do to give us with more time, and better quality of life.
I know there’s no cure, but it would be really nice to not suffer so much while we’re waiting.
There’s one single day for thousands of rare diseases to become less rare and get the awareness, funding, and exposure they are looking for – all crammed into one 24 hour period. Why is that?
Are we less important than someone who has a different disease? Am I dying any differently?
This is why I need your help, today and everyday… but ESPECIALLY today, let’s make today count for all of us zebras.
Let’s make our February 28th 2017 Rare Disease Day worth it!
You may have to do a slight refresher from my last post, but otherwise I’m going to keep it short. I will definitely go more in detail about what’s to come soon…
I’m just so exhausted and can barely keep my eyes open while I’m typing and covered in my favorite fuzzy blankets and every pink and purple unicorn pillow/stuffed animal I own
You guessed it…… LONG DISTANCE ROAD TRIP!
To where you ask? To do what you might be wondering? We will get to all of that!
First off, I’m kind of sorry and not sorry for dropping off the planet for a little while. Since I’ve started at home chemo that is EVERYDAY, twice a day, it’s a bit hard to want to then blog about cancer when you have very little left to give. What I did have left, I ended up having to use to prepare for the upcoming cancer CLINICAL TRIAL 👏🏼 Yes, that’s a whole lot of cancer. Which we will get more into when I have more time/energy. So you can see why I am sooooo sleepy 😴😷😪
Remember back when we discussed doing the first clinical trial? The very exclusive nuclear scan that was only being done on a limited group of people to see if their tumors would light up and be eligible for ANOTHER clinical trial?
Basically, it was a special scan to see if you could participate in another form of radiation type therapy. Well… Here’s a recap of everything.
So I did that, and passed the test! My tumors lit up, lots of them, so… That means I can have the special radiation called PRRT radiotherapy. (Similar to what I did back in January, the MIBG radiotherapy) but still different.
Don’t worry, I’ll be writing all about this when I’m not so depleted.
I just wanted everyone to know what was happening so far. This week has been very overwhelming, everything has been so last minute, we were informed of my acceptance within a few days of admittance, and all I can say is how grateful I am to not be a beginner at this whole treatment thing. This last minute…. We would be FREAKING out way more, but we’re veterans, so we’re only freaking out on the inside….. A little…. Ha
-This morning we left, today is a hours and hours full of travel where we will eventually make it to our hotel and check in, and spend our last night together 😰😝
– Tomorrow (Monday) I unfortunately get checked into the hospital, alone. A new unknown hospital….! 😳🏥
(I have to start getting prepped with special meds, since the treatment will make my pheo tumors angry. Hopefully by being admitted into the hospital and being prepped with special medications, this will lessen my chances of complications)
– Tuesday @ 7:30am I begin to get prepped for treatment ⚗☠
-Tuesday @ 9am treatment commence! 🎉✨☠
The rest of the week is unknown, I do know I will be less radioactive this time in comparison to last time’s treatment. Which means I shouldn’t be isolated as long.
That’s all for now.
Will share more about our previous trip to Quebec City to prep for the trial, acceptance, and WHAT IS PRRT?