SDianneB

I wear a button every day that says "Cancer Sucks." I am at times overwhelmed by the sadness and despair that I come across, while at the same time uplifted by the many wonderful stories and personalities I see. This cancer thing is a scourge. (DUH) But today, it has more and more enemies and better and more effective weapons to keep it at bay for longer periods of time. One day, I'm hopeful that a cancer diagnosis will no longer be met with automatic dread. In the meantime, I continue to mourn over those we lose, and I continue to pray and hope for those who continue to battle this monster -- especially those who are so very young. Dianne

For a while now, I've visualized sort of a scale, with hope on one side, and dread on the other. Fortunately, the dread side is getting lighter as the days go by. Sometimes, when I'm in deep thought, it occurs to me that as I begin to dread one thing or another (upcoming CT scan, visit to the doc, new round of chemo, whatever), rather than fire up the pity party, I'm better able to balance out the dread with the hope that everything I'm doing and everything my treatment team is doing is so very positive, and so far it's working. That was really difficult to do early on after I was diagnosed. I see people around me when I'm having chemo or in a waiting room who are far worse off than I. I am humbled, and the realization of how very blessed I am hits me time after time. I've watched the faces of people in obvious pain, and how very brave they are, because they know this is just a part of treatment. I know that if they can do it, so can I when the time comes. Maya Angelou says something to the effect that we can't say "I am" without first acknowledging that "they were" -- meaning that others came before us and left us a pathway to follow. I've believed that for a long time in general, and especially now that I'm in the middle of chemo, radiation, etc. So very many brave people and doctors and nurses and technicians have paved the way for me to be able to get the excellent treatment I have, and I feel it is an honor to try my best to take up where they left off and then make way for those who come after me. Hope and dread? Well, on my scale it is, but in reality, it's just so much hope that the dread is now overshadowed. I'm gradually learning to just accept what is coming, because I committed to treatment and that's a part of it. I'm convinced that prayer is always answered, even though it may not always be the answer we wanted. I'm also convinced that the many blessings I have are the result of so many prayers coming my way, so how could I let dread overtake hope on the scale with that kind of backing??? Dianne

Cheryl, I hope you keep up the follow-up, newsy posts, so we can keep up with what's going on with you. You have a great attitude and spirit, and I'm glad you are sharing your experiences so freely. Dianne (the sponge, who soaks up all the information she can find!)

I just wrote about this elsewhere, and I don't pretend to know a lot about this, but I'm happy to share with you what I've been told so far. As to the "why not?" on NSCLC, I really don't know, other than that I'm told the benefits/results are quite small with that type, whereas with limited SCLC, the benefits are significantly larger. In fact, when I talked to my Radiation Oncologist this morning, he told me that of his limited stage SCLC patients, those with the longest and best survival have had this treatment. He also told me that if I were his sister, he'd be hopping up and down on me, insisting I have it. From what the Radiation Oncology folks have told me, they learned from treating children with leukemia that cancer cells sometimes "hide out" in the brain -- they call it a Sanctuary Site -- and come back to wreak havoc later on. So, they developed some protocols for prophylactic (preventive) treatment, and after some time passed and studies were done, the improvement in survival with this treatment were significant. Chemo doesn't go through the brain like it does the rest of the body, and he says that recurrence happens most often in the brain, so it makes sense to do this, I think. I'm told it's a lower dose radiation and you have fewer treatments, but those here who have had it will have to tell you about that. I'm sure it may vary as well, depending on the individual, as will the side effects. Again, please don't take this as definitive information, it's just a compilation of what I've been told about this so far. Dianne

I know this is a somewhat controversial topic, but wanted to share with you what the Radiology Oncologist said to me this morning. First, I'd read an article about this in the JAMA, and several other sources that gave it high marks for increasing long term survival, so I'd really already made up my mind to have it done. When I talked to the doc this morning, he said that if I were his sister or wife, he'd be "jumping up and down on me" to have it done -- he would insist, no question. He said that they knew (meaning he and his colleagues in the Radiation Oncology field) for a long time that the lion's share of recurrence happened in the brain, so it made sense to them that therapy to the brain would potentially head off stray cancer cells. Now, there are studies behind them that prove what they "knew" all along. He said that of the patients he has, those with the longest survival times under their belt had this treatment. He feels very strongly that with limited stage SCLC, this is a no-brainer (no PUN!!!). He also said that we would sit down and have a long detailed discussion before this started, including my family & friends if I want, so that everyone knows what to expect. They also have patients who will talk to me if I want, so I have many resources avaialable to me should I decided to explore further. This isn't anything earth shattering, but I just wanted to share what he said this morning. It made me feel a bit easier about having this down the road. Dianne

Jen, mine sounds similar to what you're having, but as of today, I've just had treatment #8, so am quite early in the process (will have 35 treatments total - 7 weeks). The Radiologist told me up front about the esophagitis, fagitue, etc., and so far I'm early for those things, but will be ready if and when they happen. Yesterday, I noticed it was a teensy bit more difficult for me to walk the last 20 steps (up a slight incline) on the way back from my daily lunch walk, but it was really nothing. I still have good energy when I get up, and make it through the work day quite well. I'm a blessed person -- I've not experienced the side effects most people do with chemo, and even though I expect to experience some from the radiation, the docs all tell me I'm in such good physical condition otherwise that I should tolerate them very well. So, we'll see ... I was glad to read your post and that you asked the questions as you did, because I find myself intensely curious about potential side effects as well. The nurses where I have chemo are really good at discussing these things with me, as are all the people where I have radiation therapy, so it hasn't been too much of a problem for me. This forum is the greatest source I've found though to hear from others who have "been there, done that," or who are going through many of the same things right now just like I am. One day at a time, huh!! Dianne

Welcome! Just read the words of wisdom all these great folks have given you, and you'll know you found the right place. I surely can't add anything to what they say, other than to just confirm their words. Dianne

I don't know about everyone else, but I'm thinking this Lucie is ONE lucky lady! Dianne

Well, let's just say that in this practice, that the doors are closed and locked at 4:30, and only those still inside can get out! I will give them credit for scheduling the chemo patients so that those who have to stay longer get the earlier appointments, but they scurry around to get everyone out by 4:30 so they can all go home. There isn't a soul there after about 5:00 -- 5:15 at the latest. This group of oncologists rotates going to satellite facilities and, of course, I know they make hospital rounds in the mornings, but that doesn't mean that some chemo patients can't be treated while they are doing all that rather than just waiting for hours to see a doctor for a few minutes before starting chemo. Once the vital signs and finger stick are done, unless there is some reason to see the doc before chemo, my vote is to just get the show on the road, and see the doc later. This can't be done for everyone, of course, but based on people I've talked to while there, I bet around a third of the patients in the waiting room at the same time as me could be scheduled this way. And the reason they don't do it like this automatically? "THE PROCEDURE." (gulp) No medical reasons, no safety or patient related reasons -- it's "THE PROCEDURE," by golly. ("You will be assimilated ...") I have 4 docs that I see regularly -- Primary Care physician/Internist, Pulmonary doc, Oncologist, Radiation Oncologist. Of those 4, just about all of the negative experiences I've had come from the Oncologist and his office. They are all based from this same Cancer Center which is one of the top places on the planet, so the care I get as a whole is excellent. I'm sure I'm one of those people they do NOT want for a patient, because I worked in health care for so long and I may notice more things that many of their patients, and might just be more picky. (ya think? )

Becky -- I'm with you on the phlebotomy. I've started telling them "there are plenty of good veins if you know how to find them." And honestly, there are. Someone good at it finds them right away -- one stick and we're done. The Oncology practice where my doc is has hours from 9:00 to 4:30, Monday through Friday, and they close early one day a week. Where I come from, that would be called "banker's hours." If they would open up the office at 8:00 and stay open until at least 5:00-5:30, Monday-Friday, forget the early afternoon, and stay open on Saturdays at least twice a month, they wouldn't have much of a backlog. They probably wouldn't believe it, but it wouldn't cost them much to do that either if they would just rotate current staff and add a few new people. I'd venture to say that there isn't an Oncology practice in the country that doesn't make enough money that they could spend a little of it making life a little easier on their patients. Part of me says that I should be grateful I'm getting such good care and that things like this just go along with it, but the part of me that spent 25+ years in the health care field tells me that the industry is turning into something I wouldn't like very much if I were still part of it. At least the bad things make me so much more appreciative of the many good things and good people I've come across during this ordeal. Thanks to you all for your responses -- I appreciate every word, and am soaking up all your information and stories. Dianne

You are truly fortunate to have that, Donna. The Oncologist I go to isn't much in the "human being" department for emotional support (I call him "Dr. Gloom & Doom") but he is an excellent practitioner which is why I stay with him. The Radiation Oncologist is a different matter -- he's also a top notch doc, and a super person in my book. Like I said, I truly have no fuss at all if the delays are caused by us patients -- that is why they are there. What happened with me on at least 2 occasions is that he had been out of town and they apparently tried to overbook on the day I was there to compensate, and it didn't work too well. I'm one of the luckier ones -- I'm in good shape, and sitting around is more emotionally distressing to me than physically. There were quite a few people there though who were visibly over tired and distressed because of the long wait. This cancer center has people come from all over the country, and some of them drive for hours just to get here the night before so they can be "on time," and then have to wait around like that. I live 10 minutes away -- I can come a little earlier or later in order to help those people be more on time if necessary, and I'd be happy to do it. This is why I refer to this as "Institutional Disrespect" -- I think it has become so tangled up in the normal course of a day for these kinds of places that they don't see it as being abnormal or unacceptable -- no matter what the reason. They seem to be so caught up in their procedures, most of which they probably couldn't tell you why they have in the first place, and insistent that we all follow them by the book. (Disclaimer -- I'm using this topic to vent some frustration about less than grand experiences I've had recently. This by NO means cancels out or diminishes the many good and wonderful experiences I've had -- no way. I've mentioned those in other posts too, and will continue to do so, because they are by far in the majority.) Dianne

Don & Lucie -- I agree with you about having an advocate or someone with you to keep an eye on things. Oncology care givers as a rule are lots more careful than others in checking and rechecking, but I can't help but feel that when they are overloaded with patients and in a hurry, they will make mistakes just like the rest of us humans! Kim -- maybe we should just give them a big MOON every time they walk by us in the rooms while we're waiting? Ha! If I did that, they might force me to shut the door -- then lock me in and throw away the key!!! Don't get me wrong here -- I don't expect perfection, but between me and my insurance company, these people are being paid plenty to provide their services. Even if they weren't getting paid, it's their job -- patient care. That's PATIENT care -- not tiptoeing around doctors and blindly following "THE PROCEDURES" just because they are there. Oddly enough, I find that when I go for tests only and the docs are out of the picture, things are much more efficient. My guess is that they are just like me -- they don't want to be there all night, so they get the job done more efficiently and we all get to go home within a reasonable time frame. Dianne

I'd venture a guess that most of us here who have been hospitalized will share at least some of the things I will mention here, especially the #1 "rule" -- "Treat every patient as if s/he is 12 years old." (Ugh) Followed closely by "Always have a supply of cutesy names ready to use to refer to your patients, and try to never use their names." (as in hon, honey, sweetie, etc.) Ugh. I spent 25 years in the health care administration field, was out for about 10 years, and am somewhat dismayed at the state of this industry today. I guess volumes could and have been written about hospitals, but I am also referring to physicians, their offices and the people who work for, around, and with them. A standard wait to see the oncologist is 2 hours. The first time, he'd been out of town and I had a friend with me, so we just visited while waiting - no big deal. The next time, same thing -- 2 hours I wait inside a little cubbyhole, door closed, doing NOTHING. I could have had my chemo done and over with and time left over by the time he made it in there to spend about 10 minutes and then send me back to the chemo room. The result was that I spent a total of 5 hours -- count 'em, FIVE -- in that office on that day for what should have taken no more than 2 hours max. Grrr. Even more than this, the people who work there seem to see nothing unusual or unacceptable about this. Good grief! Of course, almost all of them are about half my age, and at least a few I'd wager are about 1/4 or less my IQ, smacking their gum, giving me one of those "blink blink" looks if I say anything. Aaarrrgghhh!!! By the 3rd time, I'd implemented my plan -- 1) Call first and ask -- and MAKE THEM ANSWER -- how long is the wait today, and if it is more than 30-45 minutes, is it ok if I just show up that much later for my appointment? (Of course, they want you there anyway "just in case," and it's your duty to wait in their boring waiting room -- hahaha) 2) When I arrive and have my vitals taken and my blood count done, I ask if I can go ahead and get started on my chemo rather than sit in a room and wait on the doctor. He can come into the chemo room and talk if he wants while it's being done, or see me after it's over -- whatever. 3) If they insist on putting me in a room, I make them leave the door open so that every time they pass by, they see ME -- a person -- sitting in there rather than a closed door, making it easy for them to forget or ignore that fact. About every 15 minutes, I go to the nurse's desk and ask #2 again, then ask how much longer. (My theory here is nothing more than making sure they know I'm there, and for how long.) 4) I always, always report to the doctor how long I've had to wait, and when his answer is something like he was out of town, I let him know that isn't my problem. It's their job to schedule appropriately, not mine to put up with their inefficientcies. (Of course, we all understand them having emergencies or having to spend additional time with a patient, that goes without saying. But I suspect that doesn't account for very many of these long delays.) The first time one of the young pups behind the counter gives me "a look" for asking these questions, I will refer her to their own brochure where it talks about them being there FOR ME, and it being their job to make my visit there a pleasant one, and then inform her that MY time is just as valuable as HER time, and she wouldn't enjoy spending 5 hours in a place like that either, and unless I can exercise extreme self-control, will insist that she discard her chewing gum while at the front desk. Eeewwww. Look how long this got, and this is only one topic ... I have more. Later. Dianne

What a fun subject! Mine is also boring -- Dianne is my name, and the S & B are encompassing letters having to do with the rest of my name! I'm wondering now why everyone doesn't have cute kitty pics with their posts? KIDDING! I love them all -- the people and the dogs & cats! Dianne

I just read your posts, and wanted to let you know you are both in my prayers. I've had 2 bouts of "almost anger" today, and keep trying to control it and turn it into positive energy, so will send some of the positive stuff your way. Here's hoping and praying for the very best for the both of you. Di

Dan, I don't know you, but you have my thoughts & prayers in addition to those I'm reading about here, as well as many others in your life, I'm sure. I'm thankful I'm now at a point where this fight isn't just about ME, and am learning and improving at sharing the good thoughts and prayers coming my way with others such as yourself. We are all in this together, even though we each have our own unique and personal physical and emotional battles. This fight wouldn't be a fight at all without the support and encouragement of the others who are in there with us. Dianne

Happy, happy birthday to you, Dean! I loved reading what you wrote -- we like the same TV programs, but reading what you said about not being down ... Powerful words! Several weeks ago, I had one of those moments in which an answer came to me "out of the blue" about something I'd had on my mind. When I'd be a little blue, I'd find myself praying for a break -- just for God to give me one break here. Finally, it occurred to me that my "break" from God had been when I was born on this earth, and the life I have had for over 51 years, and the one I have every day when I get up and can open my eyes. The "break" included all the gifts I've had from God (and I won't go into a detailed religious explanation, realizing how very personal people's beliefs are) and all those I continue to receive on a daily basis. So, just exactly who was I to ask for and expect a "break" from God? Sheesh! I try every day to think like you do -- there are so very many alternatives to being down or blue or sad, and I just try to find one when that happens. It isn't difficult to fine one - it's more difficult if I had to just find only one. You are an amazing and brave person. I'm glad to have the opportunity to read your inspiring words, and look forward to reading more. Dianne

I had one of these several weeks ago - it is truly amazing. I was so behind on the latest & greatest treatments/tests that I had NO idea these tests (CT & PET) were done at the same time with one of the newer machines! I spent the night before dreading having to be flat on my back and still for an hour -- 30 minutes for a CT and another 30 for a PET scan. Silly me! I started some research on the internet the morning before I had the scans, and lo and behold -- there was THE machine that does both at the same time. Did I feel out of it? Yep! What I had was CT of abdomen & chest & pelvis with contrast, and PET scan of the body (thorax basically). I had the dye injection for the CT part though, as the test was ordered "with contrast." So, sounds like it depends on what the doctors order as to the kind of contrast you get for these tests. I also had to drink (yuk!) 2 bottles of that barium-based stuff starting an hour before the procedure. That was 3 altogether -- the barium drink, the glucose w/tracer, and the dye contrast for the CT. Since then, I've been more diligent about researching things before I have them, and have also located at least 3 "open MRI" machines near me, so you can bet that if I have MRI done, it will be there! No way will they put me into that tube with the jackhammers going, and expect me to be still and flat on my back for 45 minutes. Nope! (I'm told by 3 of the docs in my treatment team that CT & PET are the best for what I have at this time, so MRI hasn't been an issue -- so far!) I agree with you -- this test is amazing. The people (technicians) where I had it done explained it to me very well, and it makes sense to me that this is far better than separate scans and the other technology. Dianne

You and I are very close in diagnosis (mine on right side though!) and in time frame (mine came 6/4/04). I'm so very glad to read about your good results. It's amazing how something like this can motivate and energize you, huh! I'm glad you're here sharing your good news, especially since we sound very "close" in this battle. Keep up the AWESOME progress!!! Dianne

So, this answers another question I have thought of at times -- if it is really possible to ever be in a place where you don't think about this all the time, and can have a real life!! Thanks for the words you posted today -- they have real meaning to me, and I'm sure to others. Oh, and by the way -- CONGRATS & HUGS to you!! Dianne

What a great way to start off the day -- reading the good news! I'm so very happy!! Dianne

Since I was young, I've heard about "the change." The Big M. Menopause. I gave it my best shot for a year and a half, and couldn't quite make it. This past April (2004), I had a month of what I thought (and still do) were related to menopause -- I had just about every one of the Top 10 symptoms as reported by most women. Then in May, I began to feel bad. Mind you, I never was inclined to be sick much in my life -- never had colds/flu like most people do -- so feeling "bad" to me was probably much worse than to many people. I would go home tired, and spend weekends trying to regroup. A few weeks into the month, I began to have shortness of breath. One day while trying to walk from my parking space to work, I thought I wasn't going to make it, but managed to drag myself the rest of the way. The night before Memorial Day we had major storms all around us. I couldn't sleep, and had a really hard time breathing. I would try and take a deep breath, and just couldn't feel it going anywhere. (Hard to describe.) When I got up Memorial Day and it was the same, I decided I must have some help. Of course, a holiday weekend, and my primary care doc is out of town for the week. I decide to go to a walk-in clinic where they take a chest x-ray and tell me I have pneumonia. Great. Stroke of luck #1 was having a sharp person there who had them copy my chest x-ray, and then tell me to go to the ER of the hospital where my doctors are. I did that, and by June 4th, had had one test after another, culminating in bronchoscopy with a biopsy to confirm SCLC - right mid/lower lobe, at the windpipe. Bummer. Change of life indeed. Stroke of extreme luck #2 - being treated all week by a Pulmonologist who is aces, both personally and professionally. I was told by more than one nurse that not all docs would have put all the pieces together like he did, so I was able to get an immediate diagnosis and start treatment. The day before I left the hospital (and the day before the final biopsy results were in) an Oncologist visited me, and we set up chemo to begin the next day before I went home. I've not looked back since then. The Oncologist has been somewhat a sore point personally, as he isn't the most positive creature on the planet. (I call him Dr. Gloom & Doom!) He started out insisting that my adrenal glands were involved, while the Pulmonologist and my Primary Care Doc (Internist) insisted otherwise. I finally insisted that they all get together and just decide something. Sheesh. They talked, but Dr. G&D has an ego that won't stop, so he isn't about to admit he might be mistaken about something. Oh nooooooo. He then suggests I should have a biopsy of the adrenal glands, even though he had told me previously that it wouldn't do any good, and even if it showed negative, that wouldn't necessarily mean negative. (&*#$%) I informed my PCC that I would have NO procedures of any kind done unless he and the Pulmonologist both signed off on them, let the Oncologist know this, and things have been much better since then. I was beginning to have the horrible realization that Dr. G&D might be holding back radiation therapy because of his "hunch" about my adrenal glands. After he talked with the other 2 docs, I had the 2nd CT/PET scans, and then an appointment with the Radiation Oncologist. The 2nd scans showed (again) NO involvement of the adrenal glands, confirmed by the Radiologist. At last! This confirmed that I was limitd stage!!! Of course, Dr. G&D wouldn't admit he may have been mistaken, but did acknowledge that 3 other docs disagreed with him! Ppfffttt. We're all getting along famously, now that Dr. G&D knows I will check his every move and every word he says. Today, I finished round 3 of chemo (Carboplatin/Etoposide), started week 2 of radiation therapy, and will begin round 4 chemo on Aug. 6th. I'm taking larger than normal doses of Carboplatin, but so far have had virtually no side effects, other than tiring out a bit earlier than usual on workdays. The 2nd scans re-energized me and refreshed my motivation to fight this battle as hard as I can. The Radiologist, a wonderful person & fantastic doc, looked me in the eye the day he told me those results, and said this: "We are all fighting this with you here, and we are all working with you for a cure." Wow. Through tears, I thanked him for just saying that -- I'd not heard that from anyone before. It was an amazing moment. I'm 51 years old. I'm in really good shape, all things considered. So far, this treatment hasn't knocked me off my feet, and I will continue to fight with every moment of every day that I have. I fully realize this is a long battle, and one that is mostly uphill, but what the heck? I can do this. I'm thankful for each and every day that I have, and know that I never had any guarantees to be around for age 60 or 65 or 80 or 90 or whatever. Almost 2 years ago, my sister had a heart attack, and she fights heart disease every day of her life. She's 67. Our mother is alive and well at age 91 (as of Aug 27th), and is in better shape than either of us - ha! No kidding. The scale of hope vs. dread sometimes tilts too far in one direction, but for now, the dread side is about to vanish. I have fewer pity parties now than I did in the first few weeks, am a bit less scared to try and be "normal" every day, and have a little better handle on my emotions. It gets better every day. And the most recent stroke of luck?? (Well, not luck, but good fortune -- more blessings that I have in my life) FINDING THIS FORUM!! Dianne

MaryAnn asks: "If you don't mind, how old are you? You sound very healthy and strong, and I was told at the time of my diagnosis -- I was 43 -- that being "young" was a major advantage." I'm 51 -- will be 52 next January. The Pulmonologist told me that I'd see people younger and older than myself once I started treatment, and he was right. I had several pity parties at first, thinking I was "too young" for this (koff koff), then realized there are so many who are much younger than I am, not to mention the children battling cancer. Whatever advantage I have, I'll take it, and run with it! I talk to the radiation machine daily, reminding it of its job -- to SEARCH & DESTROY!!! Thanks for the warm welcome -- from all of you. Dianne

That big Tennessee "Howdeeee," reminiscent of the dear lady, Ms. Sarah Cannon, aka Minnie Pearl. The local cancer center where I'm receiving treatment bears her name, and I'm thankful daily to have it nearby. My name is Dianne. I was diagnosed the first week of June, 2004, with small cell lung cancer/right side, near the end of my windpipe. Of course, I was devastated, but soon after hearing the news, I decided to commit myself to treatment, and that's what I've done every minute since then. I was very fortunate to have a great doctor while hospitalized and awaiting the diagnosis -- a Pulmonologist who dug through my symptoms and clinical signs to find the tumor, and who then got me into the right hands for treatment. Personality wise, I'm not crazy about the Oncologist, but I do know him to be extremely competent and skilled, so I rely on the other docs for the mental/emotional boost, and the Oncologist for his skills. I began chemotherapy on the last day I was hospitalized, June 4th, and today will complete round 3. (Carboplatin/Etoposide) I began radiation treatments last week, and they will continue through about the first week of Sept. Round 4 of the chemo will begin Aug. 6th. More than likely, I will have the prophylactic brain radiation therapy afterward, as the Radiation Oncologist tells me they learned from children with leukemia that cancer cells sometimes "hide out" in the brain and come back into the body later to wreak havoc. So far, I've not lost my hair, and I FEEL GOOD, dadgummit! I am a blessed person. I see people when I go for appointments and therapy who are way worse off than I, and see the faces of children fighting a battle they shouldn't have to fight, and I silently thank God for giving me such strength. Bottom line is that I will do all I can to keep going, and to get up every morning and put one foot in front of the other, and to keep going to work. My job on this earth is easy -- just follow the treatment plan. I don't fear death, but I'm by golly not going to surrender to it easily! I wear my lapel button every day that says, "Cancer Sucks." Doesn't it though? Geez. I have good support from family and friends, have all the ducks in a row as far as "what if," (living will, hospice plan, etc.) but am on track to go after this cancer with a vengeance for as long as I can. Physically, after 2 rounds of chemo and before I began radiation, the 2nd CT/PET scan showed dramatic shrinkage of the original tumor, and almost complete dissolution of the other areas in my chest that were involved. At that time, they staged me at limited SCLC. The Radiation Oncologist told me that such good results at that stage increased my chances significantly. It also helps, they believe, that I'm in such good shape otherwise -- no heart disease, no diabetes, or other physical conditions that I have to battle at the same time. This good news renewed my motivation tenfold to keep at this fight. So, here we go. It helps so much to read the words of the other people here, and to hear their stories and about their battles. Thank you all SO much for being here. Dianne