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marzo 2019 | by Cristina Chin

Mujer con niño
Victoria with her son

We often measure our progress against personal milestones, an orientation of where we have been and where we are destined to go. Victoria Vargas remembered some of her unique milestones as she shared her story with LCRF.

One milestone: Victoria at the ripe young age of 13, breathless after walking up a flight of stairs. “I thought I was so out of breath because I needed more exercise,” Victoria explained. In reality, Victoria’s lung had collapsed and would collapse twice more in her life.

Another milestone: Right before her 23rd birthday, Victoria received a diagnosis of stage III spindle-cell sarcoma of the lung, a rare and aggressive disease that occurs in just 0.3-1.3% of all lung malignancies. “To me, it didn’t matter what story the statistics were saying about this disease,” she shared. In that moment, all Victoria could think about was her 5-year old son and how she was going to explain to him what she was going through. “I decided right then and there that I would tell him that Mom is going to be a survivor.”

Tras someterse a una intervención quirúrgica para extirparle la mayor parte del pulmón derecho, seguida de meses de quimioterapia y radioterapia, Victoria recibió la buena noticia de que estaba libre de cáncer.

That was a milestone she could celebrate.

Victoria emphasized how supportive and encouraging her oncologist was throughout her treatment. She looks back fondly on the wealth of support she received from her healthcare team, family and friends.

As she had declared she would do, Victoria was able to tell her son that his mom is a survivor. While Victoria doesn’t define her life by her diagnosis, she is grateful every year when she remembers her lung cancer milestones because they are all a reminder that she is full of life and full of hope.

Victoria sought an outlet for sharing her story with others who need the reminder that the lung cancer journey can be a hopeful one. She discovered a flyer for the Lung Cancer Research Foundation’s walk to support lung cancer research at her treatment center.

Victoria has since been vocal about her journey, and first shared her story at LCRF’s 2018 Philadelphia Free to Breathe Walk. “Through my treatments, I began to realize how bright a future is becoming possible for people with this disease,” she observed. “New discoveries keep happening thanks to the amazing research being conducted.”

“If I could share one thing with you, it would be how thankful I am that there are people like you who are willing to listen and share your journey,” Victoria said. “Together we can cultivate each other’s milestones of hope. Best of all, there are so many ways to get involved in supporting lung cancer research within the LCRF community.”

Join Victoria and others in our community – visit lcrf.org/support-us to find out ways to get involved.

junio 2017 | As told by Ruthie

My story started in abril 2013 with a very bad cough. I was reluctant to see a doctor because that was my only symptom. The cough persisted long enough for my husband Marty to convince me to make an appointment with our primary care physician.

The doctor gave me a prescription for cough medicine with codeine and sent me for a chest X-ray, which showed I had pneumonia. He told me to continue taking the cough medicine, get plenty of rest, and come back for a follow-up visit in a week.

At the follow-up, I had no change in my condition. Three weeks later, I had another chest X-ray that also showed no change. Yet another chest X-ray three weeks after that had the same result, so the radiologist recommended a CT scan. The scan results were not good, and my doctor recommended that I see a thoracic surgeon for a biopsy.

Now I was getting scared. We interviewed three surgeons and chose the one my doctor had recommended. My whole family and a few close friends gathered in the waiting room on may 26, a date I will always remember. The news was not what we hoped to hear: I had stage IV metastatic non small cell adenocarcinoma. That day ended with many tears, much fear and unhappiness. I was in shock – I was not supposed to have something like this happen to me.

Decision time

Next came the research and a series of decisions. Where did I want to be treated, and by which doctor? Our first stop was the same hospital where I had my biopsy. We met with a thoracic oncologist whom my primary care physician had recommended. Her first words to me were, “Do you always get dressed up to go to the doctor? ” I thought that was rather rude, but even more harsh was hearing her prognosis that I had six months to two years to live. I didn’t like her much, and we never saw her again.

Second stop was at Hackensack, where we met with a doctor who was treating someone we knew for lung cancer. The facility was brand new, and the doctor was a very kind and compassionate man – informative and caring. I liked him very much. Before we left the hospital, I asked if I could see the chemo suite. They led me to a large open room filled with lounge chairs where people were sitting around with IVs in their arms. I left there in tears. I could not see myself sitting in that room without any privacy.

They say the third time is a charm, and in our case, it was. Our next appointment was with Dr. Mark Kris at Memorial Sloan Kettering. After meeting him, talking to him, and being examined by him, I was feeling hopeful for the first time since my diagnosis. I knew this was the place I wanted to receive my treatments and he was the doctor I wanted to treat me. He intended to use the same two drugs for my chemo as the other two doctors but he was adding a third one to the mix. I chose him not for his treatment plan, but because I liked his demeanor, confidence and his way of putting things. He said it was his intention to take a horrible diagnosis and turn it into a chronic illness. Then he said he measured success in years. I knew I could trust him, literally, with my life.

The other person who saved my life in a different sense was and continues to be my amazing husband. I could never have made this journey without him by my side. Marty has been there every step of the way, for every doctor appointment, every treatment and even every phone call. He is caring, supportive, intelligent and patient, and I can’t imagine a better advocate in the world. He can deal with insurance companies without losing his temper, which is not an easy thing to do. Sometimes he refers to their paperwork policies as “formal abuse.” Every time I have a scan, he has to debate them. For instance, their doctor – someone I’ve never seen – thinks I should have a scan with contrast, while my own oncologist disagrees. Marty stands up for me, stays positive, loving and caring, and helps me in any way he can.

No mistake – this is a challenging journey. First it was the shock of hearing the diagnosis, the dreaded word “cancer.” Next came dealing with the first question everyone with lung cancer is asked: “Did you smoke?” The suggestion that it’s your fault for getting this disease really hurts. The early morning wake-ups to get to New York for eight-hour treatments were definitely unpleasant, as were the following three days after each session curled up in a ball binge-watching some TV series we had never seen. Also alarming were the times I woke up to blood on my pillow and didn’t know where it came from. I got used to the nosebleeds and bleeding gums, but when I started bleeding from my eye I was concerned. And of course, both the disease and treatment can make you fatigued.

My initial treatment included three drugs in the infusion: cisplatin, bevacizumab and pemetrexed. Dr. Kris was hoping for six treatments with the cisplatin, but we only got to four because it started having a negative effect on my kidneys. I was nervous about giving up a drug that was working so well. From julio 2013 – abril 2014, my tumors continued to shrink. My last treatment was may 3, 2016 – my blood pressure was getting too high. While I have gone a year without treatment, my latest scan showed no sign of active disease.

Big changes, and my dream team

After my diagnosis, I made a lot of changes in my life and eliminated as much negativity as I could. I even saw that cancer offered me a gift – I learned how to live in the present moment. I read Bernie Siegel’s books, and his writings gave me the courage to ask Dr. Kris for a hug. I later had the opportunity to meet Dr. Siegel and share my experience with him. I began reading affirmations every morning and subscribed to a daily messages including Lessons Learned in Life and Ralph Marston’s The Daily Motivator.

My children have been by my side for every decision-making appointment. My friends and acquaintances are supportive with their prayers and positive thoughts. When they tell me what an inspiration I am, I feel my inner strength growing.

I met one of my friends after I discovered yoga: my amazing teacher, Heather Bivona. Heather is a ray of sunshine who teaches me at my home 4 or 5 times a week. She has been incredibly supportive, believes in me, and always sees the positive in all situations. We focus on my breathing and any other area that needs attention. Heather is definitely a member of my dream team of supporters.

Also on my dream team is Amy Arvary, a hypnotherapist and one of the most positive people I have ever met. Amy helped me learn to relax and meditate, to focus on what I wanted, and to manifest my healthy self. She taped our sessions so I can listen to them whenever I need to hear her voice guiding me through the chaos or scary voices in my head. She is loving, supportive and fun. Having her in my life helps me believe in myself and gives me the courage to fight even when I am exhausted.

Last, but definitely not least, is my dearest friend Marcia. We have been friends since high school, attended each other’s weddings and try to see each other whenever we can. She has been there for me every step of the way, with daily phone calls and near-weekly lunches. She always talks me through scan anxiety – my nerves pre-scan and then my fear waiting for the results. On the days I was curled up in a ball on the couch, she would spend hours on the phone with me. I know if I ever needed anything, she would be here in the drop of a hat. We live about an hour apart and we used to take turns driving to see each other to meet for lunch. While I was undergoing treatment, she was always there. If I could pick my sister it would be her. She is my forever friend.

My friends and family have supported me in the Northern New Jersey Free to Breathe (now merged with the Lung Cancer Research Foundation) event at Horseshoe Lake in Succasunna, NJ. Heather, my yoga teacher, has walked by my side as part of my team. She listened to my breathing as we walked, talking me though the times I felt short of breath. She encouraged me so I could finish ahead of my team and thank them at the finish line.

Our team came in 2nd place for fundraising the first year. One of my granddaughters was so touched by the event that she decided to raise money for this wonderful organization as her “Mitzvah” project for her Bat Mitzvah in septiembre 2016. In our second year, we were the top fundraising team.

In 2017, we were asked to be the honorary chairs for the event. We are determined to double the money we raised last year and are going to try soliciting local businesses and large pharmaceutical companies. I became involved because I want to raise as many funds as I can for lung cancer research. The many advances in lung cancer treatment has helped me remain hopeful. People are living longer with this disease, and yes – I am hoping they find a cure in my lifetime. If I don’t see a cure, then I’m glad I can help work toward a future cure for others.

octubre 2017 | As told by Marie

It’s just about 7 years ago that quite by accident, a suspicious nodule was discovered in my right lung. The spot was revealed during a CT scan after I went to the ER for abdominal pain, thinking I might have appendicitis. To my shock and horror, I found out that I had lung cancer. I had no symptoms of any kind, no family history, and I had never smoked a day in my life.

I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. After a successful lobectomy with no need for further treatment, I truly felt I had dodged a bullet. I was so relieved, especially when every follow-up scan was clear.

My relief ended suddenly in marzo 2015. After experiencing months of debilitating thigh, leg and back pain, for which I was receiving chiropractic treatment to no avail, I finally went to an orthopedist. There I learned that the cancer had metastasized to my bones. I had been walking around with a pelvic fracture, and further scans showed spots in my ribs, lung and brain as well.

My very core was shaken, and life would NEVER be the same. In the darkest and scariest time of my life, while I was having biopsies and wondering what would become of me, I was given some amazing news. I had the EGFR receptor mutation, and a drug named Tarceva had been found to block or slow the EGFR signals. This newer treatment – which wasn’t even available a few years ago – can slow the growth and even kill off cancer cells. By the grace of God and medical research, I am able to live with lung cancer as a chronic disease and not an automatic death sentence!

Marie shared how research helped write her story in a fall 2018 video, shown below.

My Tarceva treatment began in abril 2015, two days before my beautiful grandson Anthony was born. At that time, I didn’t know whether I would be around to watch him and my other grandchildren grow. I was devastated to think that Anthony, Isabella (then 2 years old) and Benjamin (who was 1) might not have the opportunity to know and remember me – the Grandma who loves them with all her heart. Thankfully, and yes, also by the grace of God, this treatment is giving me many more years with my family. I am enjoying all the milestones in life that I have looked forward to experiencing. I’ve enjoyed family vacations and wonderful times spent together with family and friends, bucket list trips to Italy and the Grand Canyon, holidays, birthday celebrations, kiddie parties, first days of pre-school, dance recitals and lots of babysitting! My husband and I recently turned 60, and our amazing children surprised us with a party. We enjoyed family and friends, and held our grandchildren. We laughed and made more wonderful lifelong memories. Life is good!

When I spotted a Northern New Jersey Free to Breathe Walk flyer at Morristown Medical Center, my home away from home, I had to take a closer look. I saw that the walk would be taking place in octubre, and I just knew I had to be a part of it. I was delighted to join all the amazing people – fellow warriors, survivors, supporters, friends and family – at this awesome fundraising event! After all, the research funded by generous participants at events like the Northern New Jersey Walk has given me precious years with the people I love. As a lung cancer survivor, I told my story from the stage on event day and am sharing it with you now.

Because of my newfound perspective and cancer journey, I never take a minute of my life for granted, I embrace and enjoy every day that is given me, and I am grateful. I look forward to a long life.

I am so thankful to all of you who support lung cancer research by giving your time and resources to help put an end to this awful disease.

octubre 2019

If Joe Buckheit’s son hadn’t needed hernia surgery, Joe might not be here today.

At 49 years old, Joe was a proud father of three – two girls aged 12 and 10, and 6-year-old Michael. Joe is the kind of dad who, when he found out about Michael’s hernia, decided to have a non-painful lump in his own groin checked out. He volunteered to have the procedure first, “to show him it would be okay.”

To everyone’s surprise, pre-surgical testing revealed a mass in the lower right lobe of Joe’s lung. A routine procedure suddenly turned into something more urgent. “Off we go with my scans to MSK,” Joe remembered. “The nurse does the intake and tells me the doctor will be right in. Then I look and see Doogie Howser standing there – the doctor was so young! He was incredibly supportive and went right to doing a whole bunch of tests. I thought, ‘This is the place for me.’”

He went into surgery expecting that it would be the only treatment he’d need. “I went under at 6 PM. I woke up in the recovery room and looked up at the clock. It was 7:30. I hoped it was morning, because otherwise he hadn’t done the surgery.” Joe’s lung cancer had spread to the lymph nodes, and he was going to need much more extensive treatment.

Joe brought his wife and her sister – a nurse – to the oncologist, armed with a list of questions. “I had a friend who had been diagnosed with lymphoma and had been given a 98% survival rate,” he explained. “So in my head, I thought maybe my chances were 50/50. I asked the doctor the success rate for my Stage 3B cancer, and he said 17%. I figured he heard me wrong and thought I had asked him the failure rate, but no – he was telling me that I had a 17% chance of being alive in five years.”

“I like to have the best case and worst case scenario, so I asked what would happen if I did nothing. He said I’d likely be dead in five or six months.”

Joe was determined to do what he could to stay alive for his family. His wife was instrumental in his treatment, setting up his appointments and tracking his medication. His sister-in-law lent her support, and his friends made sure he got out of the house.

Joe had two rounds of chemo and one round of radiation, going to work every day other than treatment days. “I wanted to show the kids things were OK.” Despite the sense of stability, they knew Joe had a serious condition. At Christmas, his son wrote a letter to Santa.

I do not want you to give me any thing from you. I want it from God. I will tell you what I want from God. I want my daddy’s cancer to go away so if I find not one present under my tree I will know my daddy’s cancer is gone.

It broke Joe’s heart, but the answer – which came from a stranger answering letters from children on behalf of Santa – was astonishing.

Dear Michael,
Merry Christmas! Rudolph, Ozzie the Elf and Mrs. Claus all say “hello.”Your wish moved me greatly. Most people ask me for toys – things you can wrap up and put under a tree or in a stocking. But your wish is too big to be put in a box and wrapped with a bow. It’s a wish that’s as big as the heart that wished it. I’ll be thinking of you when I get ready to deliver my presents on Christmas Eve – the child who wished for more than just toys. You yourself are a gift to the world.

Joe carries a copy of that letter with him.

About two years into Joe’s lung cancer journey, he felt a pain in his right leg and collapsed in the kitchen. His sister-in-law urged him to see a doctor immediately in case it had been a stroke. The cancer had metastasized to Joe’s brain. He had a tumor in the left lobe and two smaller ones on the right – he now had Stage 4 lung cancer. After diagnosis, he had whole brain radiation and then brain surgery. He continued with annual MRIs with a neurologist and CT scans with his oncologist.

A few months ago, Joe’s neurologist said something remarkable during a routine exam: “I think you’re cured.” Annual MRIs are now optional. His oncologist continues to monitor him, but Joe says he feels great except for ongoing balance issues from the brain radiation.

What may be most remarkable of all is that 15 years have passed since Joe’s initial diagnosis. Michael is now 21 years old, and Joe is 64.

joe buckheit

In 2005, the year after Joe found out he had lung cancer, he signed up for the inaugural Strides for Life. The family of his friend with lymphoma has a summer house in the Hamptons, and they gathered there after the walk. “I’ve done it every year since then,” he said. “The most difficult was right after the whole brain radiation. Normally I’d run a little and walk a little, but I was very unsteady. I said, ‘If I have to crawl across the finish line, I will.’ I had one friend on each side, and I finished dead last with the cop car behind me.” The Buckheit Brigade is growing and going strong!

How has Joe maintained hope over the past 15 years? “I’m not a guy who is outwardly emotional,” he said. “There are times when I would look at myself and say, ‘You think you’re so freaking tough, prove it.’ I know people ask, ‘Why did I get this?’ My question is, ‘Why didn’t I die?’”

Joe looks forward to the day when luck is no longer a factor, and noted how lung cancer research has transformed the way the disease is diagnosed and treated. The tests that would have revealed a treatable mutation in his lung cancer didn’t exist in 2004. Patients today have more options than ever. “If you’re newly diagnosed, trust your doctors. They know things that they never knew before,” he observed. “Try not to miss any treatments in order to give yourself the best chance to succeed.”

noviembre 2016 | As told by Jennifer

A year and a half ago, I was feeling terribly run down and getting very winded from normal activities in spite of being fit and athletic. I was coughing, having trouble catching my breath, and experiencing some mild wheezing. These symptoms led me to my primary care physician, and when I didn’t feel better on antibiotics within a few days, she ordered a chest x-ray.

On a busy Saturday, I let my husband Andy manage our kids’ sports schedules and walked myself into the emergency department, expecting a case of walking pneumonia or bronchitis. Nothing could have surprised me more that day than to learn that I have Stage IV metastatic lung cancer.

As a lifelong athlete through college and now just “for fun,” I couldn’t understand how someone who follows a healthy diet, exercises regularly, and competes in triathlon and running events could possibly have incurable lung cancer.

I fought during the next month to become well enough to begin chemotherapy, knowing that statistically I would be an outlier if I could survive beyond a year or two. But 17 months after diagnosis, I am living very well as I continue chemo to keep the cancer in my lungs stable. The cancer that was found initially in my adrenal gland and liver is now undetectable.

Unfortunately, debilitating headaches and vomiting six months ago led to the identification of two lesions in my brain. Both were successful removed via craniotomy. Four months later, as I was once again feeling my “new normal,” MRI identified another brain lesion, which was successfully treated with stereotactic radiosurgery. I have recovered from these detours and use them as an opportunity to refocus on my overall wellness – which I know not to take for granted. I have maintenance chemotherapy every three weeks and MRI of my brain every few months to check for cancer growth. Despite these challenges, I have been determined to take control of the only thing that I can control: my mindset and gratitude each day.

Today, I have resumed most of my normal activities while working around the many side effects and appointments: managing the household and parenting our 15-, 12-, and 10-year-olds; coaching (and playing) volleyball; practicing yoga and walking our dogs; volunteering at my children’s school and being active in our church; and enjoying the daily joys of carpools and family dinners.

I am constantly challenged to accept the limitations that living with lung cancer places on my life and the emotional fear that can easily take hold if I am not vigilant in choosing to focus on the beauty in each day rather than worrying about the days to come. I work very hard to draw from my faith, practicing meditation and prayer focusing on how great my life is rather than how terrible my diagnosis is.

I have become as knowledgeable as possible about lung cancer in order to advocate for myself with all the members of my medical team, and I eagerly pay attention to research findings that I hope will help me and many others live better and longer with lung cancer.

Andy, my amazing husband of 22 years, has been instrumental in helping us navigate life with lung cancer, as have our parents and siblings. My sister (a nurse) and countless members of our community have supported me in so many ways: meals, play dates for the kids, a volleyball tournament fundraiser, encouraging prayers/emails/text messages/phone calls, and joining me to walk the 2016 Kansas City Free to Breathe 5K and helping our Team Gratitude raise the second greatest amount of money of any team at the event this year.

I feel an urgency to share information about lung cancer since it is so largely overlooked, especially in light of the fact that lung cancer claims more lives each year than breast, colon and prostate cancer combined. I tell my story to anyone who will listen, hoping that I can be part of a movement to increase funding for lung cancer research so that it might one day receive funding proportionate to the impact it has when compared with other cancers.

Lung cancer does not discriminate; financial support shouldn’t either.

No one deserves lung cancer, and I want to help end the negative stigma unfairly attached to lung cancer and help raise funding to find a cure. I hope to increase my advocacy efforts now that I am back on a predictable schedule of chemo every three weeks. I know that for me and many others, we are in a race between our cancer growth and research breakthroughs.

In the short time since my diagnosis in abril 2015, the landscape has changed tremendously as researchers discover new breakthroughs. The options are broader for anyone diagnosed today. I encourage anyone living with lung cancer to ask questions of doctors or reputable organizations; to access palliative care, psychology, nutrition and other resources to complement oncology; to ignore the larger internet or “hearsay” information; and to focus on how you can make each day beautiful.

Living with cancer forces patients to acknowledge how little control we each have, but the one thing we can control is the attitude we carry and share with others. Choose to be a person of gratitude who lives in the present and takes charge of living a quality of life filled with hope. When I remain too long in that dark place of worrying about myself, all I need to do is look around the waiting room at the cancer center and see how many others are suffering more than I am today. It is only in my mind and heart that I can control this cancer by allowing it to fuel hope, gratitude, and love – instead of letting it take away my joy.

may 2019

Jen and Kids

Jen is someone most people would describe as a supermom: active and on the go with three children ages 4-10. That’s why she was surprised when she couldn’t shake the post-nasal cough she developed over the summer of 2017. “I hadn’t been feeling great and thought allergies were the problem. I almost never get sick, though,” she recalled. “I took a full course of antibiotics and somehow felt worse afterwards. They took a chest x-ray and the results showed some abnormalities.” Things escalated quickly from there.

Jen was admitted to the hospital after her neck became so swollen that she had difficulty breathing. Eight days later, the doctor broke the news that Jen had a mass in her lungs—one that was indicative of lung cancer. “What do you mean, I have lung cancer? This is crazy!” Jen recalled thinking after hearing she was facing stage IV non-small cell lung cancer at the age of 38.

Many people don’t think of lung cancer as a women’s issue. What they don’t realize is that lung cancer claims the lives of more women than breast, ovarian, and cervical cancers combined.

Fortunately for Jen, her healthcare team performed biomarker testing on her tumor, which tested positive for the cancer-causing ALK genetic mutation. This insight opened up Jen’s options for treatment. “They put me on alectinib (Alecensa®), which helps treat ALK positive lung cancer tumors. It helped shrink and then stabilize the growth of my tumor,” she explained. “After just four days of being on alectinib, I felt great and I haven’t looked back since.” Jen has fondly nicknamed alectinib her “miracle drug.”

And Jen’s zest for life never wavered. She searched the internet for ways to connect with other ALK positive lung cancer patients and advocate for more research behind life-saving lung cancer treatment options. Jen joined two patient advocacy groups, ALK+ and ALK Fusion. “We figured, let’s take matters into our own hands,” Jen recalled discussing in her group meetings. “I want doctors to understand the patient experience more, and there’s so much positivity that can arise from collaborating with them.” Today, Jen takes a stand for better lung cancer treatment by fundraising—she helped organize and fundraise almost $700,000 so far—and by sharing her story at conferences and community events.

“At the end of the day we are people, and we all want the same thing. We need more treatment options so we do not have to constantly face this idea of the ‘end of the road.’ I’m just trying to save my life, and my life is in the hands of science.”

“I need medicine, here and now. I will do anything to stay here with my children. This is my reason.”

Jen channels her energy into reading up on the latest lung cancer research and traveling to speak with oncologists, researchers and community members to emphasize the urgency of being able to live beyond a lung cancer diagnosis.
“Every day is a new day and a new chance,” she explained.

julio 2019 | As told by Felicia

Felicia

Like most people, I had my normal routine – kind of on autopilot, like the robots we become. One day, I wasn’t feeling like myself, but I did the robotic thing and went to work as usual. I felt like I had a bad cold coming on and it was very hard to breathe, so I took a long lunch and planned a trip to urgent care.

When the nurse checked my vitals, she asked how I managed to get to the clinic by myself operating on only 30% oxygen. She was surprised I wasn’t in a coma. I went by ambulance to University Hospital and spent three days in the ICU, diagnosed with pulmonary edema and high blood pressure. I was put on continuous oxygen and told it would only be needed for a few weeks. But several follow-up visits later, nothing had changed. I was scared and fed up, so I was a little assertive: “I’m not leaving here today with the same information you’ve been telling me the last few visits. I do not feel good, and I need to know what the h*ll is wrong with me!”

The medical staff conferred for about a half hour and sent me for a CT scan, which confirmed a fist-sized tumor and lesions throughout both my lungs. I didn’t get to go home – I was immediately admitted to the oncology floor. Three days later, after numerous tests and five liters of fluid drawn from my lungs, I was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer.

That was on febrero 7, 2017. I had never smoked, and lung cancer came as a complete surprise. I felt like my whole world had crashed. I kept trying to play back in my head: were there any symptoms, was there anything out of the norm I had missed? Why me?

The next year, I was in and out the hospital with pneumonia, rhinovirus, and a blood infection. I had two types of chemo plus radiation to shrink my tumor because its position was causing my repeated bouts with pneumonia. The last round of chemo was aggressive. My hair was gone in two weeks, and I lost much of my hearing – 70% in my left ear, 30% in my right. It never returned, so I wear a hearing aid.

In diciembre 2017, my oncologist found a clinical study that was available for adenocarcinoma patients like me. I jumped on the chance without hesitation. I just needed to try something new that might make a difference without all the side effects I’d been experiencing. The medication is a pill without a name, just a protocol number. About 250 people in the U.S. are taking it. My side effects are diarrhea and mild headaches, which is nothing compared to what I had gone through: fatigue, neuropathy, nausea, skin rashes, hair loss, and hearing loss. The tumor has shrunk about 20% since I started the trial, and I was able to go back to my job at Core-Mark International part-time in abril 2018 after being on medical leave for over a year. I have worked since the age of 16, and I hated being away from my job for so long. That agosto, I went back to full time. I was promoted to Customer Service Manager and received the 2018 Employee of the Year Award.

Work takes my mind off my illness, and my co-workers have given me a lot of support. Core-Mark held a fundraiser and a silent auction on my behalf last summer at a ranch and raised over $5,000. I still can’t believe how much my life has changed. Having some normalcy helps me get through it all. I found LCRF when I volunteered to help with a Free to Breathe Walk in my city, and I was glad to do something to promote awareness of lung cancer and the need for research.

I thank God for every day that my name is on the wake-up list. It’s so easy to let cancer take over, mind, body and soul. I try to be a living testimony for people, to help encourage others with my drive and energy to fight.

Cancer picked me; I didn’t pick cancer. I tell everyone that cancer picked the wrong girl! I am a soldier who can’t stop — and won’t stop. I love being a voice for lung cancer and welcome the chance to talk about my journey. I’m lucky to have the support system from my family and friends. I believe and know that I am truly blessed.

Elizabeth de Jong passed away on julio 3, 2023 from complications caused by Stage IV lung cancer.


julio 2017 | As told by Elizabeth de Jong

On septiembre 16, 2016, my life took a sharp right turn. I had been having some hip pain over the summer and it had stretched down into my thigh by ago. A visit to the orthopedist resulted in one of those awesome “women at your age” conversations and a shot for bursitis. The x-ray had stopped just shy of the tumors that were in my femur. A few days before I was due for a follow up appointment with the orthopedist, my femur broke as I was going down the stairs in my house. At the hospital in viewing my x-rays, the same orthopedist, feeling bad that he hadn’t caught them the first time he saw me in agosto, saw the tumors and ordered an MRI and more x-rays. He didn’t like what he saw and referred us to a comprehensive cancer center of our choosing. After nearly a week of more x-rays and CT scans and MRIs, and a bronchoscopy, I was told I had non-small cell lung cancer, stage IV. In addition to the femur, they had found tumors in the lower lobe of my right lung, lymph nodes near it and a lesion in my brain. Shocked doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt. Shocked not only at the diagnosis but also in disbelief because, other than the hip and leg pain, I’d had no symptoms – no shortness of breath, no coughing, no pain, no headaches, no vision issues, nothing.

When I heard those words “lung cancer” I thought the typical thoughts – I’m too young. I don’t want to die yet. My world stopped rotating and for a moment, the only things I could feel were the pain and fear in my heart and my husband’s hand in mine. Then the world came back into focus and my amazing medical team from Hillman Cancer Center at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center rallied around me. My biopsies and blood were sent out for genomic testing. I was scheduled for cyber knife on my brain and radiation on my now-repaired and titanium reinforced leg. As we wrapped up the radiation treatments, my genomic testing came back and I was told I’d hit the “jackpot” of NCSLC – ALK – non small cell lung cancer with the anaplastic lymphoma kinase mutation. Fewer than 5% of all NCSLC diagnosis share this trait but research has created a great window of treatment opportunities.

My husband is my co-fighter, my warrior, my researcher, my advocate, my laughter, my shoulder to cry on, and my true partner. I refer to “our” oncology appointments because he never misses one. He’s been with me for every treatment, as close as the radiation techs would allow – far down the hallway behind the lead walls but still with me every step of the way. But that is just the details of what he does, what doesn’t come through is how much my love has grown for him since we started this journey. He helps me in more ways than I can even try to articulate. Together, we stay as positive as possible: enjoy good food, friends, travel and much much more. He knows when I’m struggling and can appropriately be my cheerleader or, if needed, remind me to get over myself.

Chemotherapy

My treatment is an “oral chemo” or, more appropriately, a tyrosine-kinase inhibitor. I started, for just a few weeks with Xalkori®, crizotinib, but quickly transitioned to Alecensa®, alectinib. It better crosses the blood/brain barrier and since I’d already had one lesion, our oncology team decided to make the switch. My oncologist strikes a good balance between realist and optimist. We talk about not only my current treatments but what will come next or down the line from that. He’s explained about TKI immunity or failure. We’ve talked about options for other TKIs, other therapies, potential trials, if appropriate, and additional biopsies and testing when failure happens (a reality – whether this year or next year or the next). I’m hoping for a good long run on alectinib but also keep in the back of my mind that eventually its effectiveness will come to an end.

I’ve been fortunate to have very few side effects from either the radiation or the daily regimen of oral chemo. One of the challenges, I think, that cancer patients face as medical science advances is that we don’t look like “typical” movie or tv cancer patients. I haven’t, and won’t, lose my hair with this treatment; I am able to work full time, travel and work out. Because I have not received “traditional” chemotherapy, I don’t have a port and I don’t have many of the side effects most people think of when they think of cancer. I do get tired more easily. I do have some muscle and joint aches and pains as a side effect of the alectinib. The alectinib is a photosensitive drug and I’ve learned that SPF 50 won’t cut it for me anymore. I don’t have any dietary restrictions and, other than my own sweet tooth that goes back to way before my cancer diagnosis, am able to eat a normal diet.

Another challenge I faced was getting off the walker, and then off a cane, after my femur repair. This took a lot of time and I had to be patient and remind myself that I couldn’t expect “normal” results because I was no longer normal. I was not only healing a broken femur but fighting the cancer in the bone, and the rest of my body, and dealing with the radiation to my femur as well. I had great days where I would do so much more than I thought I could the day before and then days where I struggled to even do the bare minimum to get through the day.

I’m fortunate that we have both access to and resources for complimentary therapies – regular yoga, acupuncture, therapeutic massage and physical therapy/training sessions along with a naturopath and nutritionist as needed. Other than that pesky cancer, I’m probably healthier than I have been at any other time in my adult life.

Celebrating life in 3-month increments

There are days when I could ALMOST forget I have cancer. I feel strong and healthy. But then it’s time to take another medication or supplement and I’m reminded. In addition to daily workouts, trying to eat a more healthy diet, and my medication regimen, I’ve added a few other activities. I journal nightly. I track symptoms and side effects in my journal, in addition to my emotions or daily activities. I also keep a daily prayer list of people I want to include in my thoughts and prayers that day – some people are, and have been, on that list daily since I started, others come and go based on what I see on social media, what is shared with me in conversation or just a feeling I might get about that person. That prayer list also includes prayers for me – –vary from day to day as well. I try to think positively, that I’m doing well and the treatments are working. But there are times that the reality sinks in. I worry about what progression may look like for me, since each person’s journey is different. I worry about having to tell my family and friends about that progression. I find myself trying to reinforce to people that I’m fine, while in my head I’m thinking “I’m fine, for now.” But I don’t want to bring people down.

I let myself have small pity sessions from time to time but then I try to move past it. I think about the trips I can still take (can you tell my husband and I love to travel?), the time with friends and family that I still have, the mundane day-to-day events I still have in front of me, and all the good things ahead of me. We celebrate life in 3-month increments between scans.

I received some great pieces of advice from various people when I started this journey. I met a gentleman a few months ago while I was waiting for my first follow-up MRI. He was just starting his cancer journey, getting scans to figure out what needed to be removed in the next day’s operation. His fear and sense of being overwhelmed were palpable. We talked and shared our stories, and he asked me for my advice (even though he wasn’t dealing with lung cancer). I passed along what was working for me in the moment. I recommended the journaling I do, trying to stay as positive as possible but to not ignore the realities of your cancer and treatments, finding the people that make you feel the best and keeping them in your life, eliminating things that don’t bring you joy or positivity, exercising when and how you can, informing yourself about your diagnosis from reliable sources (DO NOT rely on Dr. Google!), eating well, and watching for the angels in your life. He told me I was an angel for him but in reality, he was an angel for me that day. Seeing him, in raw emotion and having him share his fears with me, let me see myself and also let me see how strong we both were – facing cancer head on.

At the Free to Breathe Walk

My recent triumphs include walking a 5K for Free to Breathe (now merged with the Lung Cancer Research Foundation) and being the number one fundraiser for our walk (and number two in the nation at the time!). I walked that 5K without my cane. I walked that 5K with other survivors and thrivers. I walked that 5K with a widower who buried his wife after her too-short battle with lung cancer. I told my story then, and now, to share with the world, or at least, my corner of it, that lung cancer doesn’t just come for the smokers, the coal miners, or the asbestos workers. Lung cancer claims more lives than breast, prostate and colon cancer, combined. But the research dollars don’t reflect that and need to keep coming in. Funding for other cancers far out paces that for lung cancer yet all it takes for anyone to be at risk for lung cancer is a lung. I want to spread the word and I want research to keep moving forward and staying one step ahead of my cancer so I have more treatment options to keep extending my life for a long time to come.

marzo 2017

My mother died of lung cancer, and I was secretly worried I would, too.

In spring 2008, I had some puzzling health issues that brought me to number of specialists and finally a pulmonologist. I confessed during one of my appointments that I had smoked for several years, although I had quit 15 years earlier.

He did a spiral CT and told me in no uncertain terms that I did not have lung cancer. We continued the diagnostic journey, and he finally discovered a tracheal stenosis. Yet another specialist treated me with a procedure to dilate the trachea. What a relief it was to breathe more easily – in more ways than one. After many years of wondering, I finally knew that I did not have lung cancer.

A few months later, I started coughing up small amounts of blood. My doctor suspected sinus issues, but to be on the safe side, he went back in to look at my trachea. He found a tumor breaking through the lower lobe into the middle lobe of my right lung.

I had surgery to remove the lower and middle lobes of my lung and was diagnosed with Stage IIIa lung cancer. Following a fairly quick recovery period, I began four rounds of chemotherapy – two weeks on, one week off – with Cysplatin and Gemcytabin. That was hard. I was given a 38% chance of surviving five years. I agreed to participate in a phase 3 clinical trial for Erlotinib – Tarceva. Although my diagnosis was devastating, I knew I could survive.

After treatment, it took me some time to recover. I was working full time and began a vigorous exercise routine. It took about a year to feel healthy and strong again, but I finally felt great. I became quite a vocal lung cancer patient.

I wasn’t prepared for the judging nods that whispered, “Lung cancer? Oh, you smoked, well…” The fact is that my smoking did not cause my lung cancer. My cancer and my mother’s were both caused by radon, which is an issue in my home state of Oregon. I grew up in areas with especially high radon levels. I wanted to put a new face on lung cancer and didn’t hide my diagnosis. I still don’t. I educate others as often as I can about lung cancer and radon, particularly about the disparity in funding for lung cancer research.

Breathing issues return

Six years after treatment – in spring 2015 – I began experiencing new breathing issues. I wasn’t too worried, as all my scans since my first post-surgical exam had been clean. My doctor discovered another tracheal stenosis. I joked, “Be careful now, the last time you went in there, I came out with Stage III lung cancer.”

Little did I know, I had cancer cells in my lung near the original surgical site. Again, I was devastated. But the next day, I took a deep breath and figured out what to do next. The next several months were full of more tests, and even more differing opinions. They could remove the rest of the lung. High dose radiation and chemo had a 90% success rate.

Well, the cancer cells were located too close to my esophagus to risk high dose radiation, so the radiation oncologist was only comfortable with a low dose – which had a 30% success rate. After running multiple tests, my surgeon felt I could tolerate the complete loss of my lung. I chose the surgery, but the day before it was to take place, the surgeon called me with another option. He thought he could get rid of the cells with laser ablation in a simple office visit.

I had the ablation. Unfortunately, a biopsy one month later showed remaining cancer cells, and a new lymph node tested positive. I felt so lost. I didn’t know who to trust or what to do. I knew I needed to decide on my next step, but I didn’t feel capable of making that choice.

Finally, I called my original oncologist, who had moved out of state. I asked him if he would look at my scans and other test results and give me his opinion. A few days later, he called to say he agreed with my current medical oncologist – he felt I should undergo low dose radiation and chemotherapy.

I immediately relaxed and knew that was the right decision. I trusted him, and I was confident I could handle the treatment. After all, I’d done chemo before and radiation couldn’t make it that much different. For six weeks, I underwent daily radiation and chemo – this time it was Cysplatin and Etoposide. I grossly underestimated the side effects of radiation. I’d managed to care for myself during my first bout with lung cancer, but never would have been able to do so the second time without the help of my sister. She was invaluable. I finished treatment almost a year ago. Although I’m not quite 100% better, I’m close.

Hope for the future

I remain optimistic for my future and the future of lung cancer treatment. I��m participating in a phase 2 clinical trial for a lung cancer vaccine, and the data is promising. I’m an active supporter of Free to Breathe (now merged with the Lung Cancer Research Foundation) and its specific focus on lung cancer research. (The photo at the top was taken at the agosto 2016 run/walk in Portland. My team is Positively Breathtaking!) I hope to work within the state of Oregon to improve the general public’s knowledge of radon and its life-changing effects.

I appreciate the opportunity to share my story with you and would like to ask you to do two things. First, help me reduce the stigma and change the face of lung cancer.

Second, be your own advocate. Listen to your body. Find a healthcare provider that you trust instinctively. Both times I had lung cancer, my body tried to tell me something was wrong. If I had listened to those who recommended I stop at any point along my now eight-year journey, I believe the outcome would have been much more grave.

Springtime twice brought me a lung cancer diagnosis. This spring, I am beginning a new journey that brings me joy. I am frequently reminded of a quote by Christopher Reeve. “Once you choose hope, anything is possible.”

julio 2016

As a school teacher, I’m on my feet much of the day and was having some odd symptoms. I was told by the nurse at the school to see a doctor, and when I had passed at out school I was taken to the hospital and later diagnosed with lung cancer. Originally doctors thought it was stage 4 adenocarcinoma, but it was later restaged to stage 1B lung cancer. I was only 29 at the time, and it was all I could think about. I was very anxious and overwhelmed by all of the unknowns associated with my diagnosis.

I ended up having surgery. The top left lobe was removed, and I had 4 rounds of chemotherapy. I was not eligible for a clinical trial, but would have considered one. I had two mutations, but there were no trials at the time. Today, my condition is stable, and I have been blessed with two wonderful children!

After surgery, I had lost my voice and had to adapt to my new lung capacity. This was a big challenge, because as a teacher I needed to be able to yell or read a book at any moment of the day without thinking twice.

Life after treatment was all consuming of my emotions and energy, but I had a strong support system throughout the whole process. My mother took me to all of my appointments, scans and chemotherapy. I leaned on those closest to me. My friends and family were a big help.

I found a few things to help make my journey with lung cancer easier. I avoided reading too much on the internet. There is so much out there, and it can be overwhelming. I also did not ask the doctor questions that I didn’t want to know the answer to. All of the medical terminology was just too overwhelming to me. I put my trust in my medical team.

There are a ton of resources available for people living with other cancers, such as breast and prostate, but very few for lung cancer. It can be hard to find a support group for lung cancer survivors, but I highly recommend getting “plugged in” with one. Just talking to someone who has been there can be helpful, and it can be therapeutic to share your own story.

In the 4 years since my diagnosis, I started Cassie’s Crew in the Dallas Free to Breathe Walk and become an involved advocate, committee member, team captain, donor and ambassador, raising over $110,000 for lung cancer research with my team. It has been a great way to give back and stay connected to the lung cancer community.

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