Joppette - Joppette - Quit Smoking Journals

Is this consequences?
By Joppette on January 20 2012 at 2:26 am

56, Female
MI, United States
Member Since: July 25 2002

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It's almost 2:00AM here. I'm perched on the side of my hospital bed, typing this entry by the glow of my laptop computer. Hubs is here and sleeping on the couch/cot for another night. He has been here every night since my lobe was removed on 1/18/12.

When I last wrote, I was wrestling with the chance that after this surger, my chances for living on oxygen for the rest of my life was perhaps going to become my new reality. I am now minus two lobes in my lungs, and my lung capacity is at about 40%. When I think back to the decades of wrestling with this addiction, agonizing over whether I could quit or not, quitting smoking seems quite simple now. As you and I know, it's never simple.

Yesterday afternoon, my surgeon's assistance came in to reveal the results of the pathology report. Looking back 4 years ago, I was pretty sure that they found it eary again, and it was very likely that the surgery removed yet another cancer, and in fact would probably not require any treatment other than the lobectomy and healing from that. I considered myself blessed. I volunteer at Gilda's Club, and have made friends with so many with lung cancer, and to this date none of them have survived. The longest survivor, other than me, is my friend Cathy. She has been on chemo for four years. With a joyful spirit she takes what is coming happily and is very grateful for every single day that she has. Her cancer is Stage IV, with mets (cancer spreading) into her organs, and bones. She has endured so much. Her right arm broke a few months ago, and as a result of chemo, would not set or heal. She finally agreed to go off chemo for a while to allow the bone to knit and heal. She knows that she will die from this disease.

The surgeon told me that this second bout is a stage IIB cancer, and that chemotherapy is required once again. As they watched the tumor grow for the last twelve months, this was never an option we talked about because the doctors didn't think it was remotely possible. My husband and I stared into each other's eyes knowing that this prognosis was not good. It was just a week ago when one of the surgeons said to us that as we wait for the report, we need to be mindful that no matter what the results are, I need to carefullyconsider what I do next as it could and would affect the quality of my life from that day forward,

Today the tests will stop, and the job ahead for my body is to heal from the lobectomy. The liquid coming from my lungs needs to fall to a low amount of 250 mil a day. Right now I'm producing approximately 1000 mil a day. Once I heal from this, they remove the chest tubes, and begin taking me off of pain medications one at a time with the goal being to be able to endure the pain without the epidural in my spine. Once we know that I can endure the pain, I'm being sent home. He said the Oncology department would be in touch with me regarding the next treatments.

After countless discussions with doctors, other professionals in the medical field, and in depth research, we know that what we decide to do next will determine how I live out the rest of my time here in this life. Unless a buss or train hits me first, I know I will die from this disease now.

That is a lot to wrap my brain around. Once they give me the options, we'll weigh out the side effects of each and try to decide what is next. We're painfully aware that most chemotherapy treatments have pretty raw side effects. We have struggled with the side effects of the chemo from four years ago to this day. How far do we want to go to extend my life? What will my life look like after this? These are questions with no easy answers.

When I was diagnosed in June of 2007, I was feeling incredibly blessed to have caught it early. They caught it early again, but in a two month period this went from an 8mm tumor to a 1.5 cm tumor with another surprise one popping up in October. And now on January 4 they found a third tumor. Because of the rapid growth, and new tumors presenting themselves, they want to give chemo soon to make sure that if any cells did escape that they kill them now.

We all don't want to believe that we are candidates for this possibility. And yet? It's life. Life is fraught with incredible highs and joys to plummet into the abyss of sadness, fear, and more.

I've tried to do all I could to help others with this disease, help others to quit smoking, and to make a difference in this tiny speck of the world I live in. I have been reassured by many of my friends here that I have done that. Thank you. Now I wonder how I'll spend the rest of my days. Do I refuse treatment and live as fully as possible, hoping that those few little cells didn't escape and that they did get it? Quite possibly. So many thoughts are zooming through my brain right now.

A lot of people don't want to read my story, it makes them uncomfortable. I know. When my Mom took this disease on, I squirmed in my seat uncomfortably too. It's okay.

People tell me I'll be fine, I'm a strong woman, and if anyone can beat this, it is me. I'm not strong. I'm just a woman who is just like everyone else. The only way I've faced whatever I've faced is with the courage that God has blessed me with. He will continue to bless me one day at a time, and I will try my best to face this next challenge with the courage he gave me once again. As I've said so many times, there is just one day that matters and it is today. Yesterday is gone, and tomorrow never comes. By the time you get to tomorrow, it's today, and all those worries we tangled with are today's and we do what we can with that.

So today I'm going to rest, and heal and make the best out of what it is. We can't do much else can we?
Judy

Living with lung cancer since 2007, and still doing it! Smoke free.
QD: 12/3/2004

Message by Dewey

on January 20 2012 at 5:59 am
Location: Australia Joined: March 21 2010 Posts: 2121

(800) 714-7181

The angels of heaven are watching over you every step of the way. Thank you for telling your story. It is uncomfotable to hear but something that we all need to hear. I am praying for you and your husband.