Pope Francis Fever

I pride myself on being fairly well traveled, so it is with some embarrassment I confess that I have never been to Italy.  I know, gasp. In my defense, I’ve wanted to go for years, but was always kiboshed by my love and loyalty to my french husband. Let me explain.

It’s 2006, in Berlin, Germany. France versus Italy in the World Cup Finals. Tensions and stakes between the rival teams have never been higher. The score is tied when Italian player, Marco Materazzi, decides to play a psychological game and begins provoking France’s soccer king, Zinedine Zidane. Something about mothers, sisters and sexual atrocities. Zidane reacts as any hot blooded, Latin man would. Click here for a visual. Chaos ensues. Zidane gets a red card and is ejected from the final, most important game of his career. Italy scores, wins the World Cup. Even the statue France erected in Zidane’s honor (seriously) could not erase the decade long grudge my husband has held against the country.

Fortunately, time has started to heal his wounds (and it didn’t hurt that Italy did not qualify for the next World Cup) – I talk him into a few days in Rome in exchange for my pledge that I will cheers all my drinks to Zidane and allow him to vent while in the city (ie, allow him to call Italians dishonorable cheaters a few times a day). Deal.

We did all the things one does, when in Rome, however, my favorite was Vatican City. I booked a “Highlights” tour weeks in advance, which was three hours containing an overwhelming amount of interesting history and information. I was most touched by the story of Michelangelo, who was called on by Pope Julius II to bring the story of Genesis to the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. See, Michelangelo wanted nothing to do with painting. He was a sculptor, but after several refusals, he eventually submitted, agreed and created one of the most important works of art in the world. His story was another testament to the Hero’s Journey and how we are often called to do things we don’t want to do.  And it is in those answers of the call that we find our greatest life’s work and purpose.

No photos were allowed of the ceiling and if there were, I wouldn’t have taken any. It is just one of those things you have to see with your own eyes and not through a screen or crappy smart phone photo.

We did return to the Vatican on Sunday to take part in Pope Francis’s weekly angelus (blessing) which resulted in me contracting Pope Francis fever. As a striving minimalist, I threw my values out the window and bought way too many trinkets dedicated to his Holiness. Basically, if you need a statue, rosary, pin and/or postcard with the Pope’s face on it for the next decade – I am your gal.

IMG_5337The rest of the time in Rome was spent walking around, watching fireworks over the Colosseum on New Year’s Eve, leaving no carb behind, dodging crowds and coughing at the clouds of cigarette smoke they must be pumping out of the sewers. Haven’t you gotten the memo Romans?

On January 3rd, it was time to return to reality, the United States and specifically Houston for my last Peptide Receptor Radionuclide Therapy on January 11th…to give cancer another head-butt.

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Long live the King

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Another Crazy Christmas in France

I love going to my in-laws in the French Loire Valley for Christmas, which is a sacred familial time for them.

This year getting out of Nashville was a bit exhausting due to all the normal get-out-of-town craziness and preparations for my last Peptide Receptor Radionuclide Therapy (PRRT) which is scheduled for this week (January 9-12). I’ve been feeling good, but I was definitely burning the candle at both ends. Even so, I was a little surprised that my therapy clearance blood work showed my red blood cells and platelets plummeted. Sure, it’s not unusual for this to happen and there’s a good chance I even sabotaged myself.

I’d been hearing so much hoopla around the ketogenic diet, including that it is good for cancer patients since it starves cancer cells of the glucose they need to grow.  BUT, as it turns out, guess what red blood cells need to reproduce? If you guessed glucose, then you are correct. Oopsy!

Fortunately, the counts were still well above the therapy minimums and gave me a self signed permission slip to reinstated carbs, which would’ve been an epic failure (and just all together wrong) in France and Italy anyways.

Enough cancer.

Flying to Paris and arriving was a shit show but no more than usual. Travel in Europe is a physical work out, but I was happy to arrive to my beloved village of St. Cyr en Val to be greeted by droves of family. Also, it was extra fun this year since my friend from Nashville joined to experience a French Christmas.

We spent the first few days getting adjusted to the time, visiting Chateau de Chambord and locating a few Camino shells throughout Orleans, a potential stop for those walking to Santiago from Paris.

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In the hot seat!

Christmas Eve was the big event! This is when 50 of my crazy french in-laws drink oodles of champagne, sing, dance and eat platters of oysters.  This year the chaos was amplified by a photo booth, introducing them to white elephant/dirty santa and CLR….until 4am. It was really fun and I can officially say that I am completely acclimated (it only took nine years). We even ventured off to midnight mass where Father Jean-Baptiste called me to the pew for a little interview. I was throughly embarrassed, but also touched since I know he prays for my health often. Last year he blessed me and this year he expressed excitement about my trip to Rome to see his boss, Pope Francis.

The following days after Christmas Eve shenanigans were filled with gifts and visits and food and drinks and naps. I was tired and my brain hurt from french but I think it was my favorite Christmas in a long time.

On the 27th, we were off to Paris for a couple of days. Day one was spent walking around Galerie Lafayette, seeing the sights on a Bateaux Mouche, a comedy show and a long, late dinner at a tapas restaurant. My Nashville friend also had a great time with the exception of the last night where she was hit with food poisoning and spent the whole night sick. With her night reminding me of the months I spent laying on the bathroom floor I felt so bad for her having to travel all day feeling like that. Fortunately, I don’t leave home without  a couple Zofran, which helped her make it home after a looooooong hard day.

img_5268As she soldiered through, my husband and I got to experience something really special at the Paris Zoo. His cousin is the giraffe keeper and invited us for a private visit with her 15 giraffes. We got to feed and pet them and take pictures. It was incredible and it took everything I had not to steal one. With the day spent fawning over giraffes, we walked around the Champs Elysées and met an old friend for dinner. We haven’t seen him in seven years and wow a lot has happened and changed. Satisfied with a wonderful time in France, we went back to our friends tiny apartment for a long sleep before jetting off to Italy in the morning.

Cheers to many more Christmas celebrations in the Loire Valley!

See…they cray!

PRRT Diary #3: Magic

My blog has been quiet lately. I’ve been working on other projects and enjoying fall, which I haven’t been able to do in years because of surgeries. The fun, productive days sailed by and before I could get my fill of pumpkin spice everything, it was time for my 3rd Peptide Receptor Radionuclide Therapy (PRRT).

My pre-tests revealed normal blood counts, a falling tumor marker and no need for short acting octreotide injections. Smiles all around. Therefore, the husband and I decided a weekend of fun was in order before a week of not-fun.

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IDK, but I hardly look like a cancer patient, no?

With a late arrival in Austin, followed by a long night of sleep, we ventured downtown Saturday morning for breakfast, a walk to the Texas State capitol and a city Duck Tour. Disclaimer: we’ve never done one of these cheesey tours and I can say with 200% certainty that we never will again. OMG – it was awful. First, it was so damn cold. Second, we didn’t learn anything about the city. Third, the guide’s jokes were not funny. Fourth, they gave everyone duck kazoos, including the kid behind me who has permanently impacted my ability to hear from my left ear. Lesson learned. Newly impaired hearing aside, afterwards, we hit up a local recommended food truck (Torchys) for tacos and they did not disappoint. In fact, I think they were the best I’ve ever had and I am serious AF about tacos. The rest of the day was spent walking around South Congress and 6th Street enjoying the Halloween costumes.

Sunday was warmer and a picture perfect fall day. We rented bikes and rode around the city for hours stopping only for an hour long kayak adventure on Lady Bird Lake. In the evening we ventured outside our comfort zone to a Haunted House, which was good fun.

The following morning we took the Megabus to Houston – queue the jeers and boos.

Early Tuesday I reported to Excel Diagnostics for a full poking (port access), scanning (MRI, PET and Chest CT) and starvation test (I think exit pizza should be legally mandated if you’re forced to fast for anything over 4 hours). I even had to return Wednesday morning for a renal test.

I have to be honest – I was kind of a basket case. These tests were more lengthy than usual because my doctors thought we should do a halfway check-in. While I waited for the results my mind filled with all the worst case scenarios. Fortunately, my husband is very good at talking me off the ledge. But still, scanxiety is a real, tangible thing, people.

Wednesday afternoon we returned for the results. And with much excitement, my doctors shared that I’m tracking at 20% shrinkage. BUT, I re-did their math and it’s actually 22%, so I’m taking the Goddamn extra 2%.

Let me emphasize something, because I understand why some of you might not be impressed with 22% at the half way point – THIS IS HUGE. Medicine has never done anything but stabilize me in the past. Surgery has always been most effective on me, so it feels incredible to have found something that works and doesn’t result in cutting me open.

Later Wednesday night, the Houston Astros won the World Series, so it is with 300% certainty that I say there was some special magic floating around Houston and I am so grateful to have received some of it.

But, the celebration was fizzled because Thursday I still had to be infused and thank God some of that magic from Wednesday carried over because, finally, I avoided nausea and vomiting from the amino acids they give me to protect my kidneys.

Friday, I was back at Excel for a quick scan to reveal the medicine was in place and we headed home to Nashville that afternoon.

The only negative thing that came out of Houston this visit was a cold my husband and I both picked up during our travels. Fortunately, it wasn’t too bad. We pretty much spent the weekend watching Netflix on the couch, ordering take-out, which is probably what we would’ve done anyway.

Once Monday rolled around, we were both feeling better and the only agenda item for the day was a trip to Vanderbilt University Medical Center for my Lanreotide. I’ll admit, I was pretty tired on Monday, but in a psychic stroke of genius I planned my appointment for 6pm, which allowed me to avoid traffic, wait times and rising early, which is no bueno for me. Each day I woke up with more energy and by Thursday, I was fully back to the land of the living. So much that Friday, I went hang gliding for World NETs Day. Read about that here.

Even better, I am officially free from cancer treatment until the 2nd week of January and we are off for fun in the sun and a European holiday.

Ciao!