The Downside of Seattle Summer

Summer in northerly US latitudes like Seattle means the sun is up almost 16 hours around the Solstice (June 21-ish). The days are long and usually sunny for a few months.  Our local mountains–especially the volcanoes–are spectacular this time of year.

Mt Rainier greets July (credit: Elizabeth Bourne)

Mt Rainier greets July (credit: Elizabeth Bourne)

The upside of this season for people who have Seasonal Affective Disorder (like me): lots of sunlight to elevate my mood and energy. I’m like the Energizer Bunny on many summer days.  This is a good thing, considering I have a lot of looming deadlines for writing and speaking projects.

The downside: lots of sunlight to keep me awake.  Last night I couldn’t get to sleep before midnight, which is only a couple of hours after dark.  Today the sun rose at 5:15 AM, and I wasn’t far behind it, even though I’d prefer to sleep until 8:00 AM. I honestly do need more than six hours of sleep at night, especially on cancer drugs. Can’t wear an eye mask over my CPAP, and blackout curtains don’t make much sense here when it’s gray so much of the year.  I want to stay sharp, yet caffeine–available on nearly every urban block in Western Washington–is a double-edge sword.

So, I get up and tackle my projects every morning with gusto and grogginess, and hope to collapse for a nap in the afternoons.  Except it’s SUNNY outside, and our yard has fresh raspberries (my favorite!),  and the words in my head are fighting to be born, and look at the MOUNTAINS, and … and …

Apparently I suck at collapsing on cue.

Speaking as a Patient at MedX

Just realized I have a Speaker Profile Page for the 2014 Stanford Medicine X conference. This is really going to happen! Only 69 days to go–I better start writing my speech. And maybe get a professional headshot.

Edited 7/2/2020 to add screen caps of MedX profile:

#JACR Chat 6/26: Patient Perspective on Lung Cancer Screening (#LCSM cohosts)

(This is a reblog of today’s blog on the #LCSM website)

On Thursday June 26, at 12 noon Eastern Time, the Journal of the American College of Radiology (#JACR) tweetchat will discuss the patient’s perspective of lung cancer screening.  It will be hosted jointly by #JACR and #LCSM, using the hashtag #JACR, and will be moderated by Dr. Ruth Carlos (@ruthcarlosmd) of #JACR with guest moderators Ella Kazerooni, MD, and Janet Freeman-Daily (@JFreemanDaily) of #LCSM.  #JACR posted about the chat and provided the following information:

—————————————————

“Ruthie, your dad fell down and now he has cancer.”

My dad had tripped down a short flight of steps to the basement.  In Urgent Care, he received a chest X-ray for shoulder pain, inadvertently detecting his lung cancer.  I was grateful that he accidentally fell, grateful that he received a chest X-ray rather than shoulder X-rays, grateful that I still have my dad, a 70 year old man who smoked two packs a day since he was 18.

The survival rate for early stage lung cancer is nearly 50%.  The survival rate for late stage disease is less than 5%.  The U.S. Preventive Services Taskforce (USPSTF) recommends a more systematic way to screen individuals like my dad:  use low dose computed tomography, also known as low dose CT or LDCT, to find early stage lung cancer.  The National Lung Screening Trial  enrolled more than 53,000 participants in a study. It showed lung cancer screening with LDCT resulted in 20% fewer deaths from lung cancer compared to screening by chest x-ray.  On the strength of these findings, the USPSTF showed strong support and issued a “Grade B recommendation” for lung cancer screening with LDCT, requiring private insurance plans to completely cover this service.  Medicare administrators now are weighing the decision to cover lung cancer screening, balancing the benefits with the unintended harms.

Some of the harms associated with lung cancer screening include “false-positives”—detected nodules or tumors that are actually not cancer.  Low dose CT can also detect abnormalities outside the lungs, such as thyroid nodules or heart problems.  These are called “incidental findings” or “incidentalomas,” most of which are benign.  However, because a small percent of incidentalomas turn out to be potentially harmful, additional diagnostic testing may be required. These additional procedures can lead to increased cost to the patient, even if the screening test is free.  Both false positives and incidentalomas can potentially increase patient anxiety, test-associated radiation, and out-of-pocket costs.

Understanding patient concerns about lung cancer screening is essential to fully implementing this life-saving medical service of LDCT.  Patient-Centered Outcomes Research, or PCOR, focuses on addressing patient questions such as “What can I do to improve the outcomes that are important to me?” and “How can clinicians and the care delivery systems they work in help me make the best decisions about my health?” Per a USPSTF recommendation, the ECOG-ACRIN cancer research group proposes to develop a registry of participants who receive lung cancer screening in order to understand the full patient experience, including what outcomes, benefits and harms are most meaningful to patients, how to consistently communicate these benefits and harms, and how to support patient choice regarding screening. ECOG-ACRIN is one of the National Cancer Trials Network groups launched this year by the National Cancer Institutes. It is implementing PCOR principles in the development phase of the registry to incorporate patient voices and perspectives.

Here are the four questions that will be discussed during the Tweet Chat:

T1: What clinical, psychological and cost outcomes are most important to patients who receive lung cancer screening?  #JACR

T2: Some lung nodules detected by lung cancer screening are “false positives” (not cancer).  What effect would this have on you? #JACR

T3: Lung screening might detect other conditions (e.g., thyroid and heart) needing more tests. What concerns you about this? #JACR

 T4: What aspects of lung screening benefits and harms are difficult to understand? How might understanding be improved? #JACR

If you would like to be considered for a patient advisory panel about lung cancer screening or want to tell us about your experience, email us at lungscreeningregistry@gmail.com.

Moderators for This Chat

@ruthcarlosmd (Ruth Carlos, MD), Deputy Editor for JACR and Co -Chair of the ECOG-ACRIN Patient Centered Outcomes and Survivorship Committee. 

@JFreemanDaily (Janet Freeman-Daily) , cofounder and comoderator for Lung Cancer Social Media #LCSM Chat on Twitter.

Special guest: Ella Kazerooni, MD, Cardiothoracic Division Director and Professor of Radiology at the University of Michigan, is the Vice Chair of the National Comprehensive Cancer Network (NCCN) lung-cancer screening panel.  She recently testified before the Medicare Evidence Development & Coverage Advisory Committee on the value of lung cancer screening and the need for Medicare coverage of LDCT.

Any port in a scan

I’ve had a Bard power port in my upper left chest almost 30 months, since December 2011.  This consists of a small titanium reservoir with a layer of silicone under my skin, connected to a catheter than runs into a vein near my heart.  I originally had it implanted so chemo could be administered through the port, sparing my veins.  While I don’t need it right now to receive treatment–I take my targeted therapy as a pill–the port is accessed every month for my clinical trial blood draws, and every other month to administer contrast and the FDG tracer for my PET-CT scans.

Ports are really convenient.  I don’t have to get poked every month, I can shower and exercise with it (unlike my former PICC line), and after so many months, the scar from the implant surgery isn’t even noticeable.  All that’s visible are three tiny bumps on a slightly raised, faintly bluish area under the skin. The only accommodation it requires is a small pad between it and my seatbelt when driving.  I’ve heard of people keeping a port for several years.

Here’s the hitch.  My port has misbehaved fairly often since it was implanted. I am apparently very good at growing a fibrin sheath over my port’s catheter. When a sufficiently long fibrin sheath , similar to the stuff in blood clots, forms over the catheter, it’s impossible to draw blood–the suction from the blood draw pulls the loose flap of the sheath over the tip of the catheter and closes it off.  The problem seems to be worse if I’m dehydrated.

To keep the port accessible, it gets flushed with drano on average every 1.5 months. No, not Drano the household chemical.  Drano is my not-so-affectionate name for TPA (sometimes called Cathflo), a chemical which dissolves the fibrin sheath and clears the catheter. Typically, a small amount of TPA (just enough to fill the catheter but not go into the bloodstream) is injected and left in the catheter for about 30 minutes, then withdrawn.  Usually this clears the port, although sometimes I’ve had the stuff left in overnight to clear a particularly persistent blockage–one interventional radiology xray showed I had a sheath about two inches long at the tip of my catheter. Well, everybody needs a skillset.

The fibrin sheath also sucks up the FDG tracer used for PET scans, so I often have a very bright spot on my scan right at the tip of my catheter.  The radiologist can see the catheter in the associated CT scan, so he knows that hot spot is just the fibrin sheath, but sometimes I wonder if that spot could overshadow a tiny cancer nearby.

I’ve considered having the port removed surgically and just tolereating the monthly needle pokes for my labs and scans, but to be honest, my veins aren’t very cooperative nowadays either. I’m going to keep the port in as long as the drano can keep it functional.  I just plan to drink a few quarts of water the day before it’s used so I’m well hydrated, and show up early for lab work in case my port needs a dose of drano.

My monthly labs today required more than the usual amount of blood. However, my port worked perfectly! I felt like celebrating, so I ordered a grande soy mocha at the clinic’s coffee stand.

I forgot to say “half-decaf.”

I expect to get an amazing amount of work done this morning and early afternoon. Just don’t expect much from me after 3 PM.

The Power of Lung Cancer Social Media (#LCSM)

Today the Seattle Times published a guest op-ed piece co-authored by myself and Renée Klein, the President and CEO of the American Lung Association (ALA) of the Mountain Pacific.  You can read it here: Medicare should cover low-dose CT screening for lung cancer.

While I hope you’ll read it, that’s not why I’m blogging today.  I’m blogging because I want you to know something.

This op-ed piece was made possible by the power of Lung Cancer Social Media (#LCSM).

When I proposed co-authoring this piece to Renée, she enthusiastically agreed. However, we only had two days and 650 words in which to write it.  I knew the piece required a lot of facts to support the opinion, but which facts about lung cancer screening with low dose CT would have the most impact? Which facts were the most current?  How should we structure the facts to make our point within word count? And where on the web were the sources? The Seattle Times required links to sources before they would accept the piece.

The Lung Association had several necessary facts collected with source citations on one of their webpages.  Their researchers found a few more.  The rest were scattered all over the web. I didn’t have much time to find them, especially when I didn’t know which sources we needed yet.

As I sat staring at a blank Word document trying to compose my thoughts, a fellow founding member of the #LCSM Chat, Deana Hendrickson (@LungCancerFaces), texted me about another subject.  Then it hit me.  I had at my literal fingertips a ready-made community of passionate lung cancer patient advocates and healthcare professionals, each of whom had already demonstrated their desire to see Medicare cover lung cancer screening with low dose CT.  In fact, the #LCSM community had created a change.org petition on this subject in February.

So I made use of those connections. I sent emails and Twitter direct messages to other #LCSM Chat regulars: thoracic surgeon Dr. David Tom Cooke (@UCD_ChestHealth), radiation oncologist Dr. Matthew Katz (@subatomicdoc), and fellow advocates Deana, Laronica Conway (@louisianagirl91), and Andrea Borondy Kitts (@findlungcancer).  Even though they were located thousands of miles from me and were busy with their own jobs and lives, they all responded within an hour. Over the next 24 hours, they helped brainstorm the structure of the piece, provided links to sources they knew, and waded through Google for the additional facts needed to round out the argument.  Andrea carried the research one step further by discussing a difficult point with the lead author of a relevant journal article–he just happened to be in a meeting she attended that afternoon– and feeding me answers in real-time texts.  All of them also reviewed rough drafts and added insightful comments.  It’s as if we were intended to work this project together at that particular time.

Because of  the #LCSM community, my co-author, and my writing critique group (who just happened to be meeting the night I completed the first draft), 23 citations were thoroughly researched and four drafts including the final were completed in less than two working days.

I am amazed and humbled by the dedication displayed every day by the #LCSM community in the fight against lung cancer.

Thanks, everyone.  It truly takes a village.

Sunshine, Baseball, and Video

This morning I awoke to learn I’d been on the news at 6:15 AM.  The local NBC affiliate, King 5, included excerpts from my interview yesterday in their coverage of the Lung Force Turquoise Takeover and art unveiling in Seattle. You can see the clip here. Wonder why I kept looking at the ceiling?

We had a gorgeously clear 80-degree day today in the Pacific Northwest–perfect for a ball game.  Fellow lung cancer patient Gwynne Cleveland (@GB2C on Twitter) and I worked the Lung Force table at a Seattle Mariners day game, recruiting walkers for the inaugural Lung Force Walk in Seattle on June 7.  Shirt sleeve weather in May is a rare treat around here, although the breeze on the shaded concourse drove us both into sweaters.

Back home, as I hear the birdsong in the fading sunlight and spectacular sunset, two questions pop into my mind:

Why do birds sing at dusk?

Is it the same reason lung cancer patients blog?

Third Time’s a Charm

Today I celebrate my three-year cancerversary. It was May 10, 2011, when biopsy results confirmed my lung cancer diagnosis.

My life has evolved quite a bit since that day. My first cancerversary in 2012 fell two days after my sixth (and last) dose of second line chemo, and a month before my second series of radiation treatments. I was stage IV, continually felt like I had the flu, and though hopeful, didn’t feel much like celebrating. My second cancerversary in 2013 fell sixth months into my current clinical trial. I had achieved No Evidence of Disease (NED) and focused on enjoying life, but was nearing the timeframe when others who took the same experimental drug typically progressed. I flew to Denver every 4 weeks for trial check-in, juggled side effects of treatments past and present, and felt anxious about the future.

My third cancerversary is different. Life no longer revolves around cancer treatment. I’m 17 months NED in my clinical trial, and the drug’s side effects are minimal. My visits to Denver every other month seem almost routine, with only a hint of scanxiety. I’m exercising most days, rebuilding my fitness level, and starting to lose the 60 pounds gifted to me by various cancer treatments. Physically, I’m less a cancer patient and more an out-of-shape fifty-something.

My life still revolves around lung cancer, but not in the same way. I’m busy most days with lung cancer patient advocacy. In addition to writing this blog for over a year, I moderate Lung Cancer Social Media (#LCSM) chats on Twitter and work with lung cancer nonprofits, healthcare professionals, researchers, and patient advocates to raise awareness and support of lung cancer issues such as benefits of mutation testing, screening with low dose CT, living with metastatic cancer as a chronic illness, and the need for increased research funding.

To celebrate this cancerversary, my husband and I spent a quiet vacation week in Whistler BC. The drive from Vancouver along Howe Sound into the volcanic coastal range (via Sea to Sky Highway) showcased Mother Nature at her finest. I enjoyed exploring Whistler Village and surrounds as well as writing. As I watched the snowboarders walking down from the Blackcomb gondola, I did feel a twinge of regret that I can no longer ski. However, I later reveled in the warm sun as I walked the mile around Lost Lake (2200 feet elevation!) at a moderate pace, with only a few stops–I could not have done that in 2011, 2012, or 2013.

So life has returned to an acceptable state of normality. At this point in time, a headache is just a headache—it doesn’t automatically trigger anxiety about brain mets. I look forward to seeing my son graduate from college next May. I accepted a commitment in fall 2015 without first asking if I’d be alive on that date. I know my targeted therapy cancer pill likley will fail me someday, but I now can go weeks without thinking about that.

As Trillian says in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy:
“We have normality. I repeat, we have normality. Anything you still can’t cope with is therefore your own problem.”


Howe Sound, British Columbia


Sea to Sky Highway, British Columbia

Lost Lake Outflow near Whistler BC

Sharing End-of-Life Preferences

Occasionally in my online lung cancer support group, a family member or caregiver wonders if they made the right treatment choices for their loved one. I can’t imagine the anguish felt by a spouse or partner wondering if they should have agreed to a radiation treatment or that last round of chemo, especially when it made the patient miserable without preventing their death.

Such personal stories emphasize to me the importance of open communication about illness and dying. Too often we are so busy fearing and avoiding death that we forget to ask each other what we’re really thinking and feeling.

I think both lung cancer patients and their family members need to let each other know it’s OK to talk about the possibility of dying sooner rather than later. After all, we are ALL going to die sometime. We need to let each other know under what conditions we would want our lives prolonged by cancer treatment, antibiotics, machines, or CPR. Most of us will face such choices towards the end of our lives, even if we simply grow old.

Preferably we would have such conversations when life is bright and happy, before an accident or illness makes the conversation urgent. However, we tend to avoid the subject, so the conversation is forced by circumstances, or ignored entirely until the opportunity is no longer available. We lung cancer patients and caregivers need to look for ways to encourage such discussions.

The Conversation Project” aims to promote such conversations about death and our end-of-life preferences. Their statistics: “60% of people say that making sure their family is not burdened by tough decisions is ‘extremely important,'” yet “56% have not communicated their end-of-life wishes.” The site offers videos, a starter kit and suggestions to get the discussion going.

Please let your spouse/partner and older children know you’re open to talking about death, and have thoughts you want to share. Don’t leave your family members wondering if they followed your wishes.

Tax Advantages of Being a Guinea Pig

Traveling for a clinical trial generates a sizable pile of fiddly bits for tax archives. I’m debating whether to store them nicely sorted, or stuff the chaos into an envelope as revenge on anyone who dares to challenge my medical deductions.

Tangled Thoughts from a Restless Mind (a reblog)

Joining an online community of lung cancer patients and caregivers is wonderfully supportive, informative, even lifesaving.  But members must  pay dues by weathering frequent losses of friends.

Saturday night, March 29,  2014, another young stage 4 lung cancer patient died of her disease.  Jessica Rice, age 33, who tweeted as @stage4blog and blogged at stage iv.wordpress.com, gave hope and inspiration to many lung cancer survivors before succumbing to multiple brain metastases.

Sometimes it’s too much.  Tori Tomalia (@lil_lytnin, who blogs at A Lil Lytnin’ Around the World) reflected on this in her blog yesterday.  She voiced what many of us feel when we learn of another death in the lung cancer community.  She said it so well, I asked to reblog her post from Sunday, March 30. Here is her blog entry, reposted with permission.

 

Tangled Thoughts from a Restless Mind

by Tori Tomalia

“Enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think.”

I’m tired of being reminded of the fleeting nature of our time on Earth.
I’m tired of being aware that this can all end so quickly.
I’m tired of knowing how important it is to stop and smell the roses, that the frost is coming soon.
I’m tired of happy moments carrying the pang of realization that this can be gone in the blink of an eye.

Understanding the importance of living for today is a terribly heavy weight to carry.

“when Time and Life shook hands and said goodbye.”

I’m so tired of people in my community dying.