14 Ağustos 2012 Salı

Multiple myeloma. What a ridiculous name!

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Yesterday I passed-along the new name that was selected for Millennium’s experimental proteasome inhibitor, MLN9708:  ixazomib

Is “ixazomib” a good choice?  Who knows?

But I will suggest a name that isn’t very good:  multiple myeloma.

Isn’t very good?  IT STINKS!

I’m an educated guy.  A former business owner and teacher, I have a Masters degree–yet I didn’t know what myeloma was when I was first diagnosed.  I didn’t even know it was cancer!

I have owned a number of businesses over the years.  I was always taught to be descriptive when selecting a name.  “People should understand what you do when they read your sign” a successful business owner once wisely told me.

And I have always followed his advice.  Here are the names of a few businesses that Pattie and I have built over the years:

*  Baraboo Fitness Center
*  Critter Rescue
*  Attic Antiques
*  Back in the Woods
*  Help with Cancer.org

Except for possibly “Back in the Woods”–which was an “up north” lake country home decor shop that made sense to someone standing outside–I believe no explanation was needed to quickly understand what any of these businesses were trying to do.

So who the heck came-up with the name “multiple myeloma?”  Heck, even dropping the “multiple” part makes more sense.  “Myeloma.”  Not so bad.

But while I was speaking to the Twin Cities Multiple Myeloma Support Group (a bit long, but a clearly descriptive name) Saturday, I suggested we start a petition to rename our cancer.

“I’m tired of trying to explain that I don’t have skin cancer (melanoma) to someone on the street.” I said.  “Let’s start a petition to dump the name, multiple myeloma, and instead substitute the much simpler, more descriptive name, “bone marrow cancer.”

There.  Was that so hard?  Short and simple.  Descriptive and easy to understand.

BONE MARROW CANCER.

As I looked-out over the room, filled with 40 or more myeloma/bone marrow cancer patients and caregivers, I saw some nods and smiles of acknowledgement–but I didn’t sense a revolution brewing.

Still, I wanted to put my idea to the test.  I’ll let you know what I learned while I was doing some marketing research tomorrow.

For the record, you do realize that I’m kidding a bit about all of this, right?  But only a bit.  Because you and I can call our cancer anything we want–although several suggestions I’ve heard from other patients are too nasty and inappropriate to post!

Stay tuned to see what I come-up with tomorrow.

Feel good and keep smiling!  Pat

I make my case: Dump multiple myeloma!

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What’s in a name?  Yesterday I wrote this:

So who the heck came-up with the name “multiple myeloma?”  Heck, even dropping the “multiple” part makes more sense.  “Myeloma.”  Not so bad.

But while I was speaking to the Twin Cities Multiple Myeloma Support Group (a bit long, but a clearly descriptive name) Saturday, I suggested we start a petition to rename our cancer.

“I’m tired of trying to explain that I don’t have skin cancer (melanoma) to someone on the street.” I said.  “Let’s start a petition to dump the name, multiple myeloma, and instead substitute the much simpler, more descriptive name, “bone marrow cancer.”

There.  Was that so hard?  Short and simple.  Descriptive and easy to understand.

BONE MARROW CANCER.

I closed my post reminding everyone that this was a “tongue and cheek” look at our cancer’s name.  I’m not really suggesting that we draft a petition and try to change the name.  Multiple myeloma is a medical term, although I still think everyone should drop the “multiple” from the name.

A petition isn’t needed for us to start referring to multiple myeloma in a different way, using a different name.

This is OUR CANCER!  We own it.  So I can call it anything I want!

Let me share some strong, anecdotal and circumstantial evidence, suggesting that “bone marrow cancer” might be a better name.

After I spoke to the Twin Cities support group in Minnesota Saturday morning, I headed to the airport.

I had noticed that my favorite brown dress shoes were scuffed-up a bit when I packed them.  So when a friendly shoe shine guy practically grabbed me in the Minneapolis airport, for once I said “YES!  Sure, I’ll take a shine.”

Nice guy.  And he did a good job, too.  But more importantly, when he wondered out-loud why I was wearing a mask–and I told him I had cancer–he asked “What kind?”

“Bone marrow cancer.” I said

He nodded, knowingly and continued working.  No more questions.  No “OH!  I had an uncle who had skin cancer.”  No explanation needed.

After I got settled-in at home after two long, connecting flights, I googled “bone marrow cancer.”  Multiple myeloma studies popped-up first.  And another site, “Buzzle,” defined bone marrow cancer as:

“Bone marrow cancers are the type that occur in the bone marrow cells that form blood, and these are…

Guess which one they list first.  Yep,  Multiple myeloma.

I rest my case.

So should I change the name of my blogs from MultipleMyelomaBlog.com and MyelomaNews.com to BoneMarrowCancerBlog.com and BoneMarrowCancerNews.com?

I’ll get back to you on that.

Maybe I would do that, if I wasn’t so bleeping busy taking care of my own, pesky health issues.  You can call it multiple myeloma, myeloma, bone marrow cancer or any four letter word you like.  Any way you slice it, keeping up with the medical side of our cancer takes a lot of blood, sweat, tears and time.  Especially time!

Labs, diagnostics, doctors  visits, infusions and trips to the pharmacy.  And if you are like me–and bone marrow cancer/myeloma has damaged your bones–you also spend a lot of time dealing with associated complications and pain.  The same goes for those of you with kidney issues, right?

It’s like having a part-time job!

Tomorrow, I will give you an update about how I’m feeling–and how my “part-time job” is going.  Let’s just say the report card is mixed.

Feel good and keep smiling!  Pat

Another Special Mother's Day

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It's been way too long since I last posted a blog.  Life has gotten busy!  Which is a good thing.  Most of our free time these days are spent on the soccer and baseball fields.  I feel like I am being pulled in a million different directions.  Every night I plan on sitting down to write, but  usually collapse on the couch and fall asleep!

Well, tomorrow is the big day.  Mike and I are competing in a Mother's Day Sprint Triathlon in Sudbury, MA!  Before I went into the hospital in November before my transplant, Mike wanted to make sure that we both had something BIG to look forward to and to strive for.  So he registered us for the triathlon.  I had participated in it last year.  Swimming is definitely not my strength but the race itself was so exhilarating.  Just being surrounded by so many people (of all shapes and sizes) all participating in the same event.  It is amazing to be there and especially to be a part of something so great.  For so many it has been a fitness goal or on their bucket list, for others, it is a training triathlon for a bigger race in the future.  I can remember last year Mike telling me that he had no desire to  do one.  And now today, he has gotten in the best shape of his life, he has become a great runner and he has been swimming for the last 12 weeks.  I am so proud of him.   I know initially he signed up for me, but you know what, he really is excited about doing it!  
I have not physically trained for this race all that much.  Although my running is stronger than ever, Thursday was my first time in the pool since last year.  I managed to swim the 16 laps necessary for tomorrow.  It is not pretty and not fast, but I can get from point A to point B.  Yesterday Mike, my friend Shayna and I did a brick. We did a 9 1/2 mile ride followed by a 2 1/2 mile run.  I forgot how challenging the transition is from riding to running. My legs felt like tree trunks!  
It's funny I can feel the anxiety from many of my friends doing the race tomorrow.  And all of them have been training for it.  I am probably the one who is least prepared for it!  Yet  I am so excited to do it.  You see, it is coming up on my one year anniversary since I was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma.  Last year at this time I was still struggling with a healing sternum and I had a strange bump on my chest which was later confirmed to be a plasmacytoma.  I can remember swimming in the last triathlon and struggling with the pain in my sternum.  Little did I know what was really going on with me.  The fact that it is one year later, a stem cell transplant later..... I can't freaking believe it!!  In the last year I have felt so close to death.  I honestly was doubting whether or not I was going to make it to see my kids begin school last September, let alone be running again or participating in a Triathlon!
As I explained to Mike on the soccer field this morning, I feel like I need to pinch myself everyday.  I feel so happy and so incredibly blessed for how my life is today.  It's funny so many people tell me that I should move on.  That last year was last year and this is now.  But you know what?  Every day I do reflect about the past year.  But I also think of where I am today.  I feel stronger than ever.  In fact I am up to running 10 miles!  I think reflecting on the last year helps me really appreciate today and how lucky I feel and how happy I am.  As we all know today is all we have.  Life can change on a dime as I have experienced firsthand.  So everyday I feel great, I get out there and run and enjoy it fully.  I beat this cancer this time and I only plan on getting stronger from this point.  So when it tries to attack again I'm ready to put up a good fight!
As I was running the other day, reflecting on all that has happened, a special person came to mind, Kathy Giusti, Multiple Myeloma Survivor and founder of the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation, MMRF.  Kathy was diagnosed in 1996 and at the time was told that she only had 3 years to live.  Today she is still in a "Complete Response".  I am so grateful for all of her efforts with the MMRF.  The MMRF has played such a big role in bringing four new treatments for myeloma in the past four years.  These treatments, now the standard of care for multiple myeloma patients  have helped to almost double the life expectancy among some patients.   Kathy Giusti was just recently named one of Time Magazine World's 100 Most Influential People.  Tomorrow I am dedicating my race to Kathy Giusti.    I feel strongly that I am here today largely because of her efforts.  It is my way of thanking her for all that she has done for the Multiple Myeloma World.  Her strength and perseverance to be there for her daughters, her refusal to give up hope,  and her dedication to finding a cure, has truly been such an inspiration for me.  So on this Mother's Day, I will be thinking of one very special woman.   Kathy, as I am struggling in the pool swimming my last lap, pedaling to the transition area, and running to the finish line,  I will be thinking of you!
Happy Mother's Day to all the mom's out there.  To my mom, I love you and miss you so much and I am counting the days until you and dad come out to visit!
Love-Jeanie



Let's Hear It For Marty And His Cure For Cancer Tour!

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Tomorrow morning we will be all leaving the house early to cheer on Marty Perlmutter who has traveled on a 1,400 bike journey from Jacksonville, Florida to York, Maine.  He is riding to honor his best friend, Roy Gross, who lost his battle with Multiple Myeloma in March, 2012.  Marty has set a goal to raise $20,000 for the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation.

Marty is staying in Nashua, NH tonight after traveling 100 long hot miles today.  Tomorrow morning my husband Mike will be joining Marty, as he completes his journey to Maine.  Mike was so inspired by Marty and asked if he could join him for a few miles. During the last couple of years, Mike has taken up cycling.  He has participated in several sprint triathlons and charity rides.   After talking with him, Mike convinced himself to ride the 80 plus miles with Marty tomorrow.  This will be Mike's longest ride to date.   I am so overwhelmed with love and pride for my Mikey.  There truly exists nothing that man will not do to support me.  As I sit to write this blog, my eyes are filled with tears.  He is the hardest working man I know, yet he always makes his family a priority in his life.  And now he is going above and beyond riding along with Marty supporting the fight against Multiple Myeloma.  Everyday Mike shows me how determined he is to support me in every way to continue to fight this crappy disease that robs the lives of so many people everyday, like Marty's best friend Roy.  I don't know how I got so lucky that June '92 back in UNH!  Mikey, you are my one and only one and you continue to give me butterflies everyday!


I will be sure to take lots of photos tomorrow.  The kids have packed up our cow bells, pom poms and signs.  We will all be leaving early tomorrow morning to give them a fun send off as they hit the pavement.  Of course, then the kids and I will go home and chill for about 4 hours and we will travel to York to see them get to the finish line at the beautiful Nubble Light in York, Maine!s


If you would like to view Marty's blog please click on the link below:
2012rideforcancer.blogspot.com   

Also Marty's web page for donations is:
www.active.com/donate/2012mmrfYor/MartyCure



I'm In Remission, So What's Wrong?

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I cannot believe how many times I have wanted to sit behind my laptop and write.  This blog began for me as a great way to share with friends and family on my progress, to reach out to those affected by Myeloma, and lastly if I am being completely honest, a free source of therapy for me.  Yet time and time again I seem to find excuses for not writing.  Some days while at the lake with my kids  or while I am out watering my garden, thoughts and sometimes entire blog posts will enter my mind .  Yet, I never take the time to write or type them.  So lately I've questioned myself why I stopped.  And I guess it's because writing for me has always been about being honest and open.  And lately, that is becoming more and more difficult to do.

It easier to get up each day, and stay busy entertaining the kids, running errands, trying to keep up with the garden and lawn (which is pretty pathetic now thanks to the lack of rain), keeping up with my recent obsession with Pinterest and my new found love for restoring furniture, choosing new paint colors for every room in my house, and whatever else I keep my mind busy doing,  than it is to stop and reflect about what is really going on with me.

I feel like lately I am stuck in a temporary in-between stage.   Although I am considered "in remission", I am still on a maintenance regimen consisting of Revlimid and Dexamethasone 3 weeks out of every month, and I have monthly infusions,    My hair is slowly growing out ( I can actually make a tiny ponytail), and I have regained some of the loss muscle and weight back.  To most people I must look healthy and like life is back to normal.  In fact, most people no longer ask how I am doing.  Maybe they are afraid to ask, or just assume that is everything is fine.  Honestly, it feels good to no longer receive the gloom and sad looks I was used to receiving a couple years ago as a sick cancer patient and mother of four young children.

So what's the problem?  I know right?  That is what I keep asking myself.  Well, for those of us who read up on Myeloma daily, we know that this disease is still incurable.  That it really does not go truly in remission.  Up until a few years ago a 3 year life expectancy was the best one would have.  Fortunately with Revimid patients are living longer.  The goal is to keep it at bay for as long as possible with the hopes that when I do relapse, my body will respond to the therapy.  And if it doesn't,  hopefully a new treatment is available. Ultimately, however the Myeloma usually wins the battle.    Daily, I Google Myeloma and read up on every little piece of new news that is published.  Of course what also pops up are far too many obituaries of Myeloma patients who have lost their battle.  I follow many blogs from Myeloma bloggers and although many of their stories inspire me, there are also several that write about their struggles with relapsing.

Although I try not to think about if and when I relapse, it of course enters my mind often especially during the late hours of the night.  So although I am so very blessed to be "in remission", it is challenging at times knowing I have a ticking time bomb inside.

 Running used to help me through some of those challenging moments.  I felt strong running, almost invincible.  Crossing the finish line at The Boston Marathon was so powerful.  I had so many doubts in my mind, even putting aside the extreme of that heat that day. For well over 6 or 7 months I have watch my endurance decrease.  My body screams at me when I have passed the threshold.  Whether it is the long term effects from being on Revlimid or perhaps the disease itself, the bottom line, my body has changed.  Lately I haven't even had the desire to get out there and run, let alone hit the gym.  I know the endorphins I get from exercise help, and that my body needs to stay strong, so why aren't I out there doing it?  At the same time, Mike is training for his first marathon this fall.  This should also motivate me.  But no.  I am crazy proud of him, but I really don't feel the need or desire to join him.  What the hell is wrong with me?

 Sometimes I feel like the days pass and I can't feel passionate about much.    Also as I mentioned, my energy has been pretty low as well.  I know that a lot of that is side effects of the Revlimid and the lack of sleep due to the steroid and just being a busy mom.  But I was desperate for some change.

 A couple of months ago I talked with Dr. H about slowly coming off my anti-depressant.  I had been on a couple different drugs since my diagnosis.  I ended up staying on Effexor which also has an added benefit of helping out with the hot flashes from being put in menapause.  But the past few months I realized more and more that I was beginning to feel like I was going through the motions in life.   I don't ever really feel like I can be really happy or sad for that matter. Also my energy has felt like it has been zapped.  So after reading up on all the different side effects of Effexor, I thought I would try coming off of it and see if I felt any different,

Well the first week pretty much sucked.  My head was in a constant cloud.  I had dizzy spells and felt like my brain was buzzing.  I had a new found respect for anyone going through drug withdrawals.  Day after day I waited for that to subside.  It finally did after about 5 days.  Then it was the tears.  Once the floodgates were opened they just wouldn't stop.    This was right around the same time of Marty's ride that I previously posted.  It was such an inspirational  day.  It was a day full of emotion.  When we got home that night from Maine, my son Mitch knocked at my bedroom door.  He just looked at me with tears in his eyes and told me he was really sad. He said to me "I guess you are one of the few lucky ones who is living".  Gulp!  Yup, you try looking in your 11 year old son's eyes and come up with a quick response to that one.  I just held him and cried and said "Yes I am".

Mike and I were up late that evening on the patio.  Basically him trying to console me.  As always he stayed strong and tried to pick up all the pieces to put me back together again.

From that teary moment there came many many more.  In fact, I couldn't hide the tears from the kids.  It reminded me so much of those first few weeks after I was diagnosed.  One look at the kids and my eyes filled up.  Wow maybe I really didn't need to be thrown into reality?  Maybe it was good to be numb.  Well after a few days of tears, I turned into bitchy mom who had no grip on life.  My poor kids and Mike.  I didn't even get like this when I was on the higher doses of Dex a couple of years ago.

To top it off we were heading to Maine to spend a week with our closest friends and their kids.  There was going to be a total of 28 of us vacationing together for a week (divided in 4 homes).   Although we vacationed together last year and had a blast, the thought of it sent me in complete panic mode.  I have been isolating myself, avoiding big social scenes.  I couldn't handle myself, let along 28 people .

I so much wanted to stay home and just send Mike with the kids.  But deep down inside I told myself that I needed to go.  What would happen if next year I was sick again and couldn't go?  I knew how important it was to Mike and the kids.  I couldn't let them down.  I struggled for a couple of days, and then resorted to calling my doctor and getting back on my anti-depressant.  We went to Maine and had a great week.  The kids had a blast and I did have fun, especially on those fast tube rides.  When I became too overwhelmed I would just tell everyone that I was tired and went to bed early.  I am happy I decided to go, I wished that I could have enjoyed myself even more.  I guess I did the best I could do.

Last week when I was in for my monthly infusion I sat with Dr. H and the nurses and opened up to them.  They are so used to me coming in and seeing happy Jeanie telling them that everything was fine.  Well that day they got an ear full.  My favorite nurse Leslie held my hand, as her eyes filled with tears and told me that she expected this to happen.  She went on to say that some cancer patients go to therapy when they are first diagnosed and work on the mental stuff as well as undergo all their treatment.  Others like me, dive into beating down cancer with all of the chemo treatment and then expel their other energy keeping everything else in their life (ie: kids, house, marriage flowing).  So now comes the mental baggage with being a cancer patient with an incurable cancer.

I had tried therapy when I was first diagnosed, but it really didn't do much for me.  I am not sure if  the therapist was the right fit or what.  Or maybe it just wasn't my time.  I don't view therapy as a sign of weakness.  In fact, I find it to be a sign of strength.  I know I can't carry on keeping myself busy, trying to avoid at all costs any down time.  For me, the only down time I allow myself is at night.  And I know how well that goes for me.  Not!  Hence the insomnia and my nightly dose of Ativan.

So in two days it will be my 42nd birthday. Cheers to me.  A couple of years ago I never thought I would be here today.   I have decided to give myself the gift of me.  That means the good, the bad and the ugly.  It is time for me to finally do the dirty work of digging deep and facing my fears.  This time around, it is not training to complete a marathon, but rather, explore all the hidden crap of fear, sadness and anger.  I am so so tired of this in-between life.  For those of you who know me, but don't want to ask me how I'm doing.  Now you know.  Not so great.  I  struggle with this "new life" of being a survivor everyday.  So please forgive me for putting up a wall around me and not staying in touch.  I miss being engaged in life socially, trust me.  But I guess until you walked in my shoes, you really don't know.  There is no manual on how to get to try to get back that life you once had.  I know that cancer will always be a part of me.  I didn't ask for it, but it's here.  I don't want it to define me, or limit me, more than it has to.  It has sucked way too much out of me physically and emotionally and it is really starting to annoy me.

So stay tuned.  I'm hoping to start shedding a little more light in my life.

For all my Myeloma friends, I usually I take my Revlimid and Dex in the morning.  I held off and took them tonight.  I'm hoping this means I'll be be able to actually get some sleep. We shall see!

Sweet Dreams-
Jeanie