5/6/16 Third Place

Dear Family and Friends,

Those of you who know me know that I am “a bit” competitive.  OK, I’m very competitive!  I love to win.  In my childhood, I made sure I sold the most campfire mints and Junior Achievement products.  When playing softball and volleyball, my teams often won the league championships and it was so satisfying—especially the times I had the most home runs or points served.  When working for Children’s Hospital, I wanted to be the one on the team who raised the most money, and most years, I achieved that goal.  And don’t get me started on canasta and estimate, my two favorite card games, and how hard I try to win when I play.  In all of the above, I would not say I’m a bad loser.  I don’t usually sulk, make excuses, or act ungraciously if I lose.  I just prefer to win!

In much of life we are compared to others with "places" assigned.  In the Olympics, you can come in first, second, or third, and win medals accordingly.  In high school or college, you can come in first, and be the valedictorian, or come in second as the salutatorian.  Likewise you can graduate cum laude, magna cum laude, or summa cum laude—if you are a brainiac.  And most ambitious people, as hard as they may try, will only achieve titles of coordinator, manager, director, or vice president at work—never president. 

There are rankings with cancer too.  When staging your cancer you come in 1^st, 2^nd, 3^rd, or 4^th stage, and as you know in these rankings, stage 4 is the worst news you can receive.  And when going through chemo, you can come in first place, receiving the best possible news—your cancer is gone!  Or in second—your cancer has shrunk!  Or in third—your cancer has stayed the same (i.e. is labeled “stable disease”), or in last place—your cancer is everywhere and it’s time to call hospice.

Yesterday’s scan put me in third place.  While one tiny lung nodule had disappeared and one had shrunk, all the abdominal area cancer remained unchanged after the past two additional months of chemo, making my total this round six months.  

This was hard news to take.  I had been feeling, overall, very well.  No abdominal pain.  Good energy.  Walking 4 miles most days.  Good appetite.  Tolerating the chemo well.  I thought for sure the cancer would have shrunk.  While I hadn’t dared hope for first place, I thought I would come in at a solid second.  I don’t like coming in third!

The doctor said we will continue on the same chemo regimen for now, rechecking in three to four months.  And I spent half the day yesterday shedding some tears while grieving the absence of the news I had hoped for.  But after awhile, Steve and I went for a great walk in the sunshine and came home to Cinco de Mayo dinner with Renee, Daniel, and Riley, complete with chicken and beef tacos, guacamole, and Steve’s famous margaritas.  There may have been cake at the end (both lemon and chocolate).  And as usual when hanging out with my great family, I enjoyed a house full of hugs, love, laughter, great conversations, and reaffirmation of our trust in God.

The Bible says in Psalm 30:5, “weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.”  And Earl Palmer, former pastor of University Presbyterian Church used to say, “go ahead and cry over your disappointments, but then, after awhile, quit crying and decide what you are going to do!” 

So here is what I’m going to do.  I’m going to quit stressing about yesterday’s scan, keep going through chemo to fight cancer with all my (and God’s) might, keep trusting the God who orders all my days, keep taking walks in the sunshine, and keep those chips and guacamole coming (along with a very occasional margarita and slice of cake)!

Love to you all,

Gabrielle

5/5/16 CT was today

Hello, friends.  Steve checking in with a quick update.  As many of you know, Gabrielle had a CT scan today.  CT scans and other tests are always approached with mixed emotions, ranging from fear and trepidation to excitement in the hopes that things will be grand.  It's a little like Christmas Eve and having a court date rolled into one.  For the past two weeks, we have all been a bit anxious about today's big test.  On the up side, she has been feeling pretty good and hasn't had a lot of symptoms.  On the other hand, doc wanted the scan fairly soon after she just had one in February, which made us all nervous about what she would find.

Well, to cut to the chase, the scan was stable.  There were no new growths or changes in the size of the affected lymph nodes, which is great...I guess.  On the other hand, that's just it: it was stable.  It had not regressed at all and that part is a major letdown.  Last scan showed about 30% improvement, whereas in this one, we're holding our own, no more.

I liken it to being out in the ocean swimming for shore.  After several hours swimming, you check your position by sighting some landmarks and realize that after all that effort, you are no closer than before and are still far from shore.  The optimist in you wants to say, "hey, at least you're not being swept farther out to sea".  But the part of you that wants to really be kicking cancer's butt (all of you, that is) is disappointed that landfall is still a ways away.

As I write this, I look out my window and see the same French lady who walks by our house every day.  Lorraine, I think her name is.  She lives below us, down a hill at Cristwood Park, and is over 90.  Every day, she trudges up the hill, rain or shine and takes a quick rest on the neighbor's garden wall, and then ambles off at a quick clip on the way back down the hill to her apartment.  Has to move fast, as dinner starts at 4:30 down there and she is most likely first in line, though you wouldn't know it judging by her slim physique.  Anyhow, she is an inspiration: never stops moving, makes progress, and has a lot of motivation despite her hunched over back and needing a cane.  And she is 90!  She is making progress!  I want so much for Gabrielle to be making progress and to get to that wonderful age.  If (and when) she does, no doubt some admiring husband will glance out the window at her and marvel at her energy.  She has plenty now, despite the neutral CT scan.  Let's hope for a reversal of some of the lymph nodes soon.

Dr. M. tried to be upbeat.  She said that the effects of Doxil are slow on the front end, but "durable" so they should last a while.  Let's hope so.  So for now, it's "stay the course," faint not, and all that.  In my mind, I would rather have "damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead." But that's how it goes.  And now, I have to sign out, because Gabrielle is chopping at the bit to go for a walk.  I think she wants to go catch up with Lorraine and maybe sneak in line for dinner at Cristwood.

3/31/16 Depression

Dear friends and family,

I guess I haven't posted in awhile because ever since my last scan, where I learned that I still have lots of cancer inside me and must continue chemo indefinitely, I have been pretty depressed.  I have experienced depression a few other times in my life, but this bout has been kind of tough to shake.  

There is a new normal I must get used to--chemo every 28 days for perhaps the rest of my life.  I fix on every word and nuance in what my oncologist tells me and it seems the word "remission" is being replaced by words like "maintenance" and "stable disease."  Not what we've been hoping for, praying for, and looking forward to while enduring the past five months of chemo.

Another reason for the depression has to do with no longer working at a time in life when Steve works so many long days and nights.  When the kids are busy, as they increasingly are with their work and dating lives, and Steve working 11-hour days, I spend a lot of time alone.  Most of my friends work during the day and have spouses and kids to attend to in the evenings.  I miss my volunteer work at Children's, which I can't do with a lowered immune system, and I have missed a couple of weeks watching Jericho due to my or his health being a risk for one or the other of us.

And a final source of my depression comes, I assume, from a chronic pain I have had in my lower right back/hip area for the past four months.  Day after day and hour after hour of low grade (and sometimes very high grade) pain can wear a person down!  I have been waiting, impatiently, for my insurance to approve a couple of steroid shots they want to put in the painful spots to quiet down the inflammation.

All in all, I think it's time to call my therapist for a "tune-up," as she and I like to call our occasional visits.  Hopefully, talking all this through with a neutral third party, who, lucky for me, is one of the best therapists on the planet, should help me.  

I don't like depression anytime, but especially not in the spring, when it's sunny and unseasonably warm in Seattle, the cherry blossoms are in full bloom, and our tulips have popped up their jewel-toned heads.  And I especially don't like it because with a probable shortened life-expectancy, I can't stand the thought of wasting any days at all moping around, feeling sorry for myself, and accomplishing nothing!

Here's what I know for sure, and I read it again today in Psalm 34:18:  "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."  Though depressed of late, I am still keenly aware of God's presence and love in even the darkest of days, and I have great hope that "this too shall pass." 

Another thing I know for sure is that people care deeply for my family and me.  We have had a steady stream of the most delicious meals coming our way over the past couple of months, along with surprise spring bouquets appearing on our porch and cheerful cards in the mail.  It truly makes me smile to know that God hears my name perhaps hundreds of time each week through the prayers of my family and friends.

And lastly, do not fear, I plan to get out of this funk soon!  Frederick Buechner says "One life on this earth is all that we get, whether it is enough or not enough, and the obvious conclusion would seem to be that at the very least, we are fools if we do not live it as fully and bravely and beautifully as we can."  

Please pray with me that this depression will lift quickly so I can get back to the business of living each day as fully, bravely, and beautifully as I can.

Love,
Gabrielle

P.S.  I was blessed with a wonderful trip to a health spa in Mexico in March with Steve and Daniel, before the funk set in--where I met some amazing people and Daniel and I were the undefeated doubles pickle ball champions!!  Below are a few pictures for you!

Renee and Gabrielle seeing UW cherry blossoms!

Jericho and me, just hanging out.

Steve and me, at a rest stop while hiking at Rancho la Puerta, Mexico.

Daniel and I took cooking class in Mexico.  We made marinated grilled octopus with apple/grape salsa!

There are hammocks all over Rancho la Puerta, and after working out so hard, they are mighty tempting.

Also tempting are post-lunch naps in the cabanas by the pool!

Daniel and Steve on a hike we did in the mountains separating Mexico and the U.S.

Blurry photo of me, but showing you the dining hall at Rancho la Puerta, where we ate 10 days of fish, legumes, organic veggies and fruits!

Those of you who know me know that I am NOT a morning person.  But why didn't someone tell me that if you arise at 5:45 AM to hike, you get to see this?!

Daniel, posing by some flowers, which attract bees to the many acres of organic gardens at Rancho la Puerta!

2/23/16 Feb. 23 CT scan results

Hello, friends and family.  Steve checking in.
Gabrielle had her much anticipated, and equally dreaded CT scan today:  pelvis, abdomen and chest.  The nights leading up to this saw many sleepless folks in the Dudley household.  I guess worry can do that to you.  Anyhow, cutting to the chase, there was some definite improvement in the abdominal lymph nodes.  One, for example, had shrunk from 1.9 cm on the October scan, to 1.1 on today's!  That's great.  They're still there, but smaller, so I guess the Doxil is doing its job, albeit slowly.  Still no advancement of disease in the abdomen.  Nothing in the pelvis, so we're good there.  Interestingly, the radiologist's report said her gall bladder was surgically absent.  Funny.  We never knew that.  Perhaps he missed seeing it.  As for the chest, the same lymph nodes are there, and about the same size. One is a skosh bigger, but not by much, just a millimeter.

So, that's all good news!  Right?  Right!  But it was met with a bit of disappointment too, as we had hoped that after four months of harsh chemo, things would be even better.  Doc said that this drug "takes time", so we need to be patient.  The toughest part is that she had hoped to be given a reprieve from the chemo after a total of six treatments (six months, that is), and then have a break for a while, like she did last time.  This go round, apparently the plan is to stick with it indefinitely if the side effects aren't too bad.  That's a huge adjustment to have to make: going from "I'll be done after two more treatments" to "I may have to be on this for the rest of my life".  So we are adjusting to the new normal of life with chemo.  And there are all sorts of good things to focus on.  For example, our neighbors are bringing us pizza tonight!!  Woo hoo!  Gotta love that!  I'll have an extra slice please!  We also had a good walk on the Edmonds waterfront where the mountains were out and people were everywhere enjoying the beautiful afternoon.  The only sad part was seeing a lonely, somewhat skinny seal pup sitting on the dock by the fishing pier.  We have seen him before, but he is losing weight.  I hope his mom didn't forget him.  Perhaps I will save a slice of pizza for him.

So, that's it for now.  Just wanting to give you an update.  As I said above: we are cheered by the shrinkage in the lymph nodes, but saddened about endless chemo.  Doc is going to tweak the pre-meds next time to mitigate some of the side effects of the chemo.  We feel blessed to have such a caring and attentive doctor.  Oh, and doubly blessed to have such wonderful caring people like you folks in our lives who are a constant source of support, encouragement, and prayers to Gabrielle and the rest of us.

Be good, and thanks for checking in.

2/4/16 Just a Tiny Seed of Faith!

Dear Friends and Family,

Hello dear ones!  Gabrielle here.  Time for a quick update.  Tomorrow at 1:30 PM is chemo number four.  I am gearing up mentally for a week of bad nausea and then off and on nausea and fatigue for the rest of the month.  But the good news is, the horrible cold and cough that had me down for two weeks is gone!  I will do my best to stay away from sick people this month and to wash my hands about 20 times a day to kill germs.  I will also do better at swishing with mouthwash or salt water each day to treat the mouth sores I’m getting from the chemo.  Now you must hold me to these goals!

Have you ever wished you could eat anything you want and not gain weight?  I have wished that probably a thousand times in my 55 years (56 on Feb. 18!).  Well, be careful what you wish for!  For some reason, starting last June, my thyroid, which has been traditionally low, has kicked into gear and gone sky high.  It affects my heart rhythm, my sleep, and, when not nauseous, I am starving and could eat six meals a day and not gain weight.  Weird!  Anyway, the cardiologist and endocrinologist have put me on five new pills a day to fix this.  So believe me—I would rather give up the five pills than be able to eat anything I want with impunity!

One of the biggest joys I’ve had this winter has been snowshoeing on days I have had energy and wasn’t nauseous.  The snow is so clean and bright.  It cheers me immensely to hear the soft crunch under my snowshoes and to look all around me at trees, mountains, birds, and white.  Enjoy a couple pictures below!

Another huge joy has been the meal train that my friend, Maribeth, started for us.  Twice a week people sign up to bring us meals and these meals replace the ones that I would normally cook for the family.  It is very difficult to cook dinner when you are nauseous.  It is hard to think of what to cook, to find the energy at the end of the day, and the smells—even with the fan on high—can be overwhelming on a sick stomach.  Our heartfelt thanks to those who have brought meals already and to those who will be bringing them soon!  And if you would like to sign up, there are some new slots to get us through my April chemo.  You can look at the food chart here:  http://www.takethemameal.com/meals.php?t=DTAK2098 Thank you!!!

Our pastor brought several pounds of mustard seeds to church on Sunday as she preached on Jesus’ parables, and of course, the one about faith.  I brought some home and look at them each day on my desk.  They are so tiny!  Much smaller than a grain of rice and not much bigger than a grain of sand.  The verse says “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move.  Nothing will be impossible for you.” Matt. 17:20

It’s hard to have faith you will be healed when your cancer keeps coming back.  So as I approach my first scan in this third cancer, on February 23, I am trying to replace my trepidation with faith as small as a mustard seed that I can be healed.  Just a tiny little bit of faith, I tell myself.  That's all I need.  Will you join me and find some mustard seed-size faith as well for my healing?  Or elephant-size faith is good too!

Either way, with a long or short life ahead of me, my devotional reading today said this:  “The best way to get through this day is step by step with Me.  Continue this intimate journey, trusting that the path you are following is headed for heaven.”  Amen, and amen!

Love and happy Valentine’s Day to you all!

Gabrielle

Renee was so excited to grab her stocking off the mantle, she dropped the stocking holder onto my snowman stool and broke it! But good daughter that she is, she bought me a new one. :-)

This is me, snowshoeing at Icicle Creek in Leavenworth.

Steve, demonstrating how much snow we had in Leavenworth!

This is Daniel and me, snowshoeing at Gold Creek in Snoqualmie Pass.  

One of my greatest joys is babysitting Jericho one day a week.  He hasn't figured out how to push himself on this little car yet, so I pull him up and down the hall with a long shoelace attached!

1/17/16 Never ending sickness

Dear friends and family,

This is just a short update since my chemo #3 a week ago Friday.  Since then, I have been extremely sick with a virus that won't go away.  I have had fever, vomiting, coughing, congestion, headache, and sinus blockage.  Each day I wake up to more of the same.  Why?  Because my immune system was blasted by the chemo and keeps sinking day after day.  It has not even hit it's low point yet--that will come five days from now on Friday.  Then it will slowly inch back up.  Think of my immune system as an inverted bell curve that hits its lowest point two weeks after chemo.  Without my immune system, I can't fight off this sickness.  

I am too weak to do anything, so I read a bit and watch tv and write a few notes to people.  That's about it.  I hate this.

My next chemo will be February 5 and my first CT scan to see how the chemo is or isn't working will be on Feb. 23.  I have never had this chemo drug before (Doxil).  I do not have a sense of whether or not it's working, though I pray that it is.

Because the weight of all the housework and meals is on my family right now, and they all work full time while taking care of me, I would like to request that you consider bringing us a meal.  My friend Maribeth set up a "take them a meal" website where you can sign up for a day.  If you don't cook, it could be a gift certificate for a take-out restaurant or some such thing.  Two restaurants near us that have good veggie dishes and other are Black Pearl Shoreline and Full Moon Thai Shoreline.  If you can't help--no worries!  Just keep praying!

Here is the site for the meals:  http://www.takethemameal.com/meals.php?t=DTAK2098

If this link doesn't work, go to takethemameal.com and use our last name Dudley and password 0218.  Thank you!!!

"And God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus.  Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus."  Phil 4:19

Love,
Gabrielle

P.S. No photos.  I look awful!

12/24/15 But you look so great!

Dear family and friends,

Merry Christmas Eve!  "For unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given...and He shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace."  (Isaiah 9:6) He has been all those things to me during this third round of chemo to treat my metastasized ovarian cancer.

As you know, I came home from Europe in late October to learn my cancer was back--in my abdominal cavity and some spots in my lungs.  I began a new chemo treatment called Doxil which is infused through my port every 4 weeks.  After treatment number one in November, I only had two days of nausea and not much loss of energy.  I thought this would be a cake walk!  But Doxil is a drug that builds up in your system over time.  After treatment number two this month, I had a full week of constant nausea (but only vomited once).  I have learned to time my anti-nausea pills so I can eat small meals, but no food sounds good at these times.  On the bright side, I have not gained my traditional five pounds between Thanksgiving and Christmas!  Immediately after the week of nausea ended, I caught a horrible cold, and pretty much sat in an exhausted heap for four days straight.  I'm coming out of that now, going on short walks again, but notice that my energy is indeed lower than normal and that this is most likely my new normal for the next several months.

My hair is thinning, but I still have plenty, and when people see me they inevitably say, "but you look so fantastic" or "you look like the picture of health!"  LOL.  What I look like on the outside has nothing to do with what's happening on the inside--poison running through my veins, making me sick and weak, and hopefully, killing some cancer cells along the way.  

In thinking about all these "outer me comments," I have realized that life is like that for everybody.  I see people and I think they look great on the outside, and I assume they are physically, emotionally, and spiritually healthy.  But on the inside, what I can't see, might be an entirely different picture.  When we ask how people are, they say "fine, how are you?"  But perhaps they are coping with a chronic illness, depressed, lonely, fearful, stressed, grieving, questioning their purpose in life, whether God exists, or who knows what else.  

When my kids were little, I taught them this verse that I love--"Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart."  (1 Samuel 16:7)  This Christmas, and in the new year, I hope to do this too, and to enter into honest one-on-one conversations with people that get below the surface and let us share what is truly going on in our lives.  

I want to close with one final verse that I have been meditating on and clinging to during the many sick and weak days I have had this month.  "We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure." (Hebrews 6:19)  "This hope" came to earth as a baby in a manger who would become the Savior of the world.  Thanks be to God.

Love,

Gabrielle

P.S.  Please pray that the chemo will be killing the cancer without killing me, and that my thyroid will normalize without needing a radiation blast.  

P.P.S.  Below are some pictures from a wonderful trip to Hawaii the first week of December (before the nasty chemo number two)!

Daniel heading out for a snorkel in the crystal clear water in front of our hotel!

I love this photo taken on a walk along the shore. Big Island, Hawaii.

A little bit of Christmas in paradise.

A fabulous snorkel site called Two Step.

We get these rings at the ABC store for less than $5.  They bring countless amounts of joy to us!

Yep.  Love floating in our rings!

On a boat trip to go night snorkeling with the manta rays.  We swam for an hour with nine of them, four inches from our faces!

One of our favorite beaches--Mauna Kea.

I've been told I'm too upbeat in my blogposts.  That I can't truly be cheerful while in chemo.  I can't help it.  Cancer doesn't rob me of the joy of being alive each day!