Chemotherapy ended in March, 1997. Except for my quarterly checkups and semiannual CTscans, I was able to work regularly. I felt good, not high energy, but then I never was a high energy person. Intellectually, I thought I was through with this disease.Rosemary GrimmThe Ovarian Problems Discussion list and volunteering at the Wellness Community were still a part of my life. After all, the value of these programs lies in helping others as much as in receiving help.
One nagging problem was rheumatic-like aches at night whenever it was the least bit cool or damp. Several of my cyberfriends had this same effect. None of us could logically claim it to be caused by cancer or its treatment. We were getting older and this could have been age related. My solution was to sleep warm , holding my body heat in a mummy sleeping bag or using reflective "space blankets" under my bed sheets. After about a year, these aches were gone for good, indicating to me that they were probably caused by my various treatments, not natural aging.
It wasn't until July, 1998 that I truly felt like my old self-a real person, not a cancer patient. It was as though a switch had been thrown and my emotions now coincided with my intellect. I continued to travel, hiking and snorkeling on the Island of Hawaii, started a satisfying hobby that began to grow into a little business. I felt great in every way. I began to ask my doctor for a hernia repair operation to do away with the embarrassing bulge that had developed at my old incision. Return to My Old Self
This December, 1998 surgery was another chance for my doctor to explore for signs of cancer. None were found; all biopsies and washings were negative; not one cancer cell was found. I was on top of the world: cancer free, with a flat tummy. Apparently Cancer Free
By May, 2 months after my last post-op checkup, I was a little tired and weak, climbing stairs was almost a chore. My tumor marker "score" was 1000 and then 8000 ( >35 is normal.) I felt my liver where it shouldn't have been. I knew one can loose a good portion of one's liver and still be OK; I knew it is possible to direct chemo agents directly into the hepatic artery. I was preparing myself for more surgery and chemo, until I saw the Ctscan: my liver was riddled throughout with cancer nodules. This all happened amazingly quickly. Maybe you can imagine the double blow this was to me: I thought I was cured; I had been practicing saying, "I had cancer," rather than, "I have cancer." Now I knew I didn't have long to live, though I certainly haven't wanted an estimate of just how long that may be. Then The Worm Turned
I declined the systemic chemo that my doctor said might add a little time to my life. I vividly remembered the terrible fatigue, nausea, transfusions, bone marrow pains and all the rest that I had endured under this same regimen. It had seemed worthwhile for a cure or long remission; it seemed too high I cost for a "little more time." I've known brave people who fought with every ounce of strength to the very end. One woman had said that without fighting, there was no quality to her life. These people scared me because I could see myself behaving just the same way--never knowing when to stop. I also have known brave people who died with dignity, not giving up hope, not giving up at all--just knowing when to follow the course their bodies were taking. I wanted to be like them. I considered it a blessing to have such a clear sign of immanent liver failure. Now I would concentrate on living the rest of my life as well as possible. I chose referral to hospice home care. And Now…
I am very pleased with my hospice team ( a doctor, nurse, social worker, and a chaplain and therapist should I need them.) They are not just emphasizing preparation for death. They are helping me live well. I have been supplied with any paraphernalia needed to keep up my camping trips, attendance at concerts and sporting events. I have a myriad of medications to help me eat comfortably and maintain weight and strength. When I do encounter pain I know I can trust them to manage it. I'm taking herbs to strengthen and repair the remaining good parts of my liver. They are respectful of my priorities.
I don't think I've ever been afraid of death; perhaps because I am at peace with my family and friends--no unfinished business there. I have moved in with my dear generous brother, for financial and physical reasons (fewer stairs.) Dividing up my family treasures and junk has been often pleasant, sometimes just a chore. My greatest regret is that I will never see grandchildren. If they will be anything like my wonderfully good and talented children, I know I've left significant gifts to the world.
Lastly, I want to thank all who have written to me to ask questions, show concern, tell me their stories or offer prayers. It has meant a lot to me. Some have said they found my story inspirational. I meant it to be informative; I mean this update to be informative, whether or not you agree with my decisions. Thank You
July 12, 1999