I am sorry it’s been a long time. I entered the hospital on Martin Luther King Day, January 16. I knew I still had energy that would fade and used that vigor to write a speech for our local Women’s March. Our small town of Friday Harbor had nearly 2000 marchers (including people from other islands) and speeches afterwards. I wanted to be represented. I will post that speech in the following blog.
Chemo is cumulative. The last few days are always worse than the first couple. I got the same “Hyper-Cvad A”as before. That’s three different types of chemo, Mesna to protect the bladder from the chemo and steroids. This time they also put a PICC line into me, twice–the first they had to take out and re-do when the nurse who cleaned it accidentally pulled it part way out. During all of this, I had access to cable TV and it was about all I could do. The stunning changeover from Obama to Trump was so big it filled and saddened my chemo drugged brain. The next day, the amazing Woman’s Marches from all over the country uplifted my heart. Steve took time away to march with friends in Seattle.
I stayed in hospital for a full week. The first spinal tap showed Blasts: (Immature blood cells. Leukemic blasts do not grow and age normally; they proliferate wildly and fail to mature.–from MedicineNet.com). So I had leukemia in my bone marrow and spinal fluid. The race was on to keep it from entering my brain. Every time I had a spinal tap, they took a sample and injected me with the chemo drug Methotrexate, so that it would be carried by the spinal fluid into my brain. The IV method of chemo does not penetrate the body brain barrier. How’s that for chemo brain? I had 5 spinal taps (also called lumbar punctures) in all, 4 at the SCCA after the hospital visit. The last two were clear.
They also started me on ponatinib (trade name Iclusig). The primary target for ponatinib is BCR-ABL, an abnormal tyrosine kinase that is the hallmark of Philadelphia Chromosome + Acute Lymphatic Leukemia. It is both astronomically expensive and carries a black box warning (like the risk of suicide warning on anti-depressants). It has huge side effects and we could only hope that my “sturdy” body -(dubbed so by my first oncolocologist) would be able to endure them. It did, mostly… though there was a trip to the ER to rule out chest pain from heart attack (turned out to be sternum pain from the Filgrastim shots I was giving myself to increase my neutrophils). There have been lots of side effects. I’ve lost count. Hand and leg cramps from hell had me climbing the walls when they struck. Headaches from the spinal taps. Low red blood cells that kept me from being able to go uphill even the slightest little bit for lack of oxygen. Stiff Achilles tendons and deep fatigue. Still, I counted myself lucky to still have some appetite and some ability to eat.
My hair fell out. The first time, I had my head shaved. This time, I didn’t. I don’t know exactly why. I do know it allowed me to toss handfuls of hair into the air off the ferry car deck and watch as it handed on the surface of the Salish Sea. I spread more on our property and more again in Seattle. It was like a private remembrance service, like spreading ashes on the body of the earth. At that point, we had no idea what would come next. The odds weren’t great. Even if I went into remission, there was 90% chance of the leukemia coming back.
When I entered the hospital, I had 80% cancer cells in the bone marrow. My last one showed less than one percent. That change was from the chemo and the ponatinib. Lucky me, to have just a little disease, because I was able to qualify for a clinical trial where you had to have some evidence of disease. If I had none, they would have zapped me with more chemo, hoping to get every little bit of cancer. Instead on February 15, we transferred to the bright shiny new 6th floor wing called Immunotherapy and entered a trial with CHIMERIC ANTIGEN RECEPTOR (CAR) T-CELL THERAPY.
This is a link to what it is, but basically, many Tcells are harvested. They take the harvested Tcells and teach them to recognize and attack a protein on the cancer cells. So your own body does the work of chemo. In the process, you become a genetically modified organism. And you have a 5 inch straw-sized tube inserted into your neck to harvest the cells (but only for 24 hours).
I will have outpatient chemo for three days prior to getting the Tcells (to make room for the Tcells, they say). But who’s stressing the details? This has a chance of making me cancer free. I will be watched carefully for side effects after the educated cells are infused back into my body. There may be future hospitalizations. But sometime early in April, God willing and fingers crossed, I will be discharged and can return to the island to resume my life.
Something is stirring inside me, deep in my heart. I have the awareness that it will be slow blooming. I know that because cancer is a busy life and this time we have had the luxury of coming back to the island nearly every weekend.
Audrey, our granddaughter is the light of our lives. So when we are back on the island, she is our center. There hasn’t been much time for reflection. I have thought . . . when I am sitting around getting red blood cells or platelets . . . that I am back at the table (of life), and what am I here to learn? Or do? Starting with Audrey, it’s pretty clear to me that I am here to stand up for her life and all the young and innocent of the world. As non-human life diminishes on this planet, it is clear to me that I am here to stand up for those who cannot speak. I am here for the sake of the future. As a grandmother and as someone who has been supremely privileged to see the world from the first glacier poppies alongside Denali to the crowded and colorful streets of India.
Because the blooming of what to do next is slow, compared the everyday logistics of cancer, the discovery and telling of it will also be slow. It contains the deepening of faith in the Creator and not being bashful to use the name of Jesus. I have been surrounded with scientists and humanists, but I have always had this faith. It is time to speak it out loud, especially when so many mis-use his loving, powerful message. The measured bloom of recovery, if I am fortunate enough to have it, will contain health as a priority and travel as a means to know the world. It will contain activism on every level I can conduct it without sacrificing health and joy. It will, as always, contain family, friends and community. Our world is deeply threatened. It needs all of us. If we are given life, we need to use it for the good of all. I want to live for the future, for gratitude, for faith, for health and for love of this world.
Shann, you continue to be an inspiration!!! Your optimism in the face of the challenges of both your health and our tottering democracy keeps reminding me to be grateful for life and for the opportunity to try to make a little difference for good whenever and wherever I can.
Thank you Lori! I am so very grateful for a beautiful life.
Dear Shann, And Steve. I just read your letter, Shann. Although I was preoccupied, the same thing always happens. Once I begin reading, I can’t stop. You are such a marvelous writer Shann. You connect, reaching my caring for other life and the planet. And you bring attention to the importance of these.
As in the grueling experience you had in ’13, reading about your suffering was unpleasant. And I was struck at your ability to describe it.
I hope that you are home in April and that you can resume your marvelous life, Shann. The photos are fabulous as well.
Ste vde >
Shann and Steve and family–we are thinking of you and know that you are all in great hands–each others. And of course the docs.
Keep up the blogs, the inspirational attitude and the life perspective. I agree with everything you say about our duty to fight for those that need it…and, I believe, we are fighting for our country. I have never been nationalistic…always thought that borders were a good excuse for wars–but under this dufus I worry for our ideals.
Sending you strength…from all of us (Ronan, Barb, Renna & Joey & Jack, Allison, Michael, Keenan and Gilly!!! That’s alot of strength!)
As always I thank you, Shann. Yes. The faith that sustains us. Yes. The utter joy of a grandchild. Hug her and Steve for me. Nancy Jones. Fighting another battle but WITH you…
I feel your connection. Thank you Nancy.
Shann, I admire your strong beautiful spirit and your positive willingness to roll with the waves. Thank you for sharing and keeping us informed, amused, touched and inspired. Loving you, Nansee
Yes, dear Shann, your Women’s March speech was soooooooo powerful! I hope someone recorded it so you could hear the thunderous applause!
I’ve only read the first paragraph (so far) but have to tell you that today, LONG before your email reached me (due to some glitch: no emails between 10:34 a.m. and 9:28 p.m.) you have been on my mind. Even wrote a note to myself while on box office duty at the Theatre to write a note later today. Even talked about you to Terry Ogle’s mom as she was cutting my hair.
So, unlike other times, I’m going to respond “freshly” as I read, rather than saving your essay to read at breakfast with Ed.
You may be undergoing chemo, but the effect has been the same here. DJT (I don’t use his name) has affected my sleep and my efforts to resist what he is doing has taken away from office work.
How proactive to give a part of yourself to the Salish Sea that has nurtured you so well! And, of course, I love the photo you are holding of Audrey. (Which daughter is her mother?)
Oh, JOY! The news of your being accepted into a clinical trial and then…………… that glorious photo of you and Audrey! That young lady is loved fiercely!!! And then there was the photo of Steve and Audrey reading a book — and unmistakenly which book it was! 🙂
Just as you have acknowledged the need to express aloud your belief in Jesus, I need to say You Are An Amazing Woman! I’ve always known it, but now more so than ever!
========== Alice B. Acheson, Book Marketing/Publishing Consultant P. O. Box 735 Friday Harbor, WA 98250 360/378-2815 http://sites.google.com/site/alicebacheson Do It Yourself Life wrote on 2/28/2017 12:08 PM: > WordPress.com > Shann Weston posted: ” I am sorry it’s been a long time. I entered the > hospital on Martin Luther King Day, January 16. I knew I still > had energy that would fade and used that vigor to write a speech for > our local Women’s March. Our small town of Friday Harbor had nea” >
You are right, DJT affects all of us. I am so glad you heard the speech! I was grateful to Kari for delivering it. Mariya is Audrey’s mother. She (Audrey) is a reader already. Thank you again for your wonderful commentary back to me! It means a lot.
Shann, so grateful to receive your profound and inspiring thoughts. I was forced out of my Brooklyn apartment by a beneficent wind and have moved to the Hudson Valley town of Poughkeepsie, and my life has become a round of gradual unpacking, continued working from home, and enjoying the beauty and calm here. Your strength and shining love of life are, as always, an inspiration – in my case, to soon get back to the writing that I have let myself be distracted from for far too long. Thank you and blessings on your recovery.
I am glad to have been an inspiration to you, Carola. Yesterday, I sat with Jill and Claire Dyckman and recalled again how old friends are so precious. Your name came up. I hope the Hudson Valley treats you well. Beautiful spot. Love to you.
Oh, so great to hear about Jill and Claire being there! Please give them my love.
I miss you all so much. I hope that with the money I’m saving by living here that I can finally make it back out there this summer or fall.
You move me to tender tears.
And your adventures move me to admiration and amazement! Thank you for writing.
I am hoping the best for you on this long journey. You are such a strong fighter. On your behalf, and for Dave Doran and Ken Durbin, I volunteered for a study at OHSU (WEAR study) looking for blood markers that could point towards development of blood cancers. So glad you are having time with your granddaughter. Grandchildren are such miraculous critters. Kathy Shinn