Good Morning. I am a 48-year old survivor of Stage IIB non-small cell lung cancer. I was asymptomatic up through diagnosis and surgery. Thankfully my dog (may she rest in peace) had required walking daily, and I'd moved to where hiking was completely accessible and was 'training' to take my self camping for a week in the wilderness. One of my jobs requires I carry a back pack, so I was really getting in shape. Eveything happened quickly. One morning I was awakened by severe pain in my left chest. Typical of most people, who feel healthy otherwise and engage in good diets and exercise, and, no insurance, I delayed going anywhere/calling anyone for, oh, about 6 hours. Finally I had my housemate (at the time) take me to the emergency room. They diagnosed pleurisy. As luck would have it, I was friends with the daughter of the sole pulmonologist in town, who saw me a week later (I still had pain), and he also diagnosed pneumonia. Still, asymptomatic, and walking/hiking no matter what.
(I think this belongs in the my story section...). Anyway, a few scans and a bronchoscopy later-those are horrible if you're under 70 years of age- they sent me to the surgeon who confirmed the diagnosis, a 4cm+ tumor in my left lung, the whole thing would have to come out. That was in April. Treatment was this summer, with four rounds of chemoptherapy. Lastly, the oncologist wanted to put me on Tarceva, which we tried, but I lost my voice, and haven't regained it, even though I've been off it for 5 days now. My voice started going funny the evening of the first dose of Tarceva. The skin rash came on a few days later, but is now finally abating, since I've stopped. All this by way of introduction! My world, as most of you have probably experinced already, is completely upside down. My support network has been incedible, far surpassing any tiny hopes I had of knitting together a few people I knew in a town I'd only lived in for a year and a half. Friends and family came from all over the country, too, during the treatment/surgery phases. And my boyfriend has been my rock. Now I'm in the next stage, figuring out how to thrive after surviving, and I'm finding my monkey-mind gets in the way, and depression casts it's shadow, even though I'm on antidepressants. Good thing, too, as I've just lost my job, and will be applying for unemployment benefits in the next week. I'm here to find out how others have discovered the motivation to thrive. The treatment was curative, the first of three scans this year was clear, and I expect to live a good long life. Plenty to be grateful for.
Pam
