Tag Archive for: lung cancer survivor

Stage IIIA Non-Small Lung Cancer Survivor Shares Importance of Listening To Your Body

Stage IIIA Non-Small Lung Cancer Survivor Shares Importance of Listening To Your Body from Patient Empowerment Network on Vimeo.

Lung cancer survivor Terri has had a long journey to her diagnosis. A “tiny” spot on her lung was initially dismissed and eventually led to her diagnosis a decade later with stage IIIA non-small lung cancer. Learning her tumor was KRAS-positive allowed her to make the most informed treatment decisions for her lung cancer. Watch as she shares her journey and advice for taking control of your health and getting the best care.

Terri’s advice, “Hope shared is hope multiplied. Take control of your journey and get connected. These actions are key to staying on your path to empowerment.”


Transcript:

My name is Terri. I live in Charlotte, North Carolina.  In 2017, I was diagnosed with lung cancer. 

Nearly a decade prior to my diagnosis, I went in for a routine physical. Checking the lungs, the medical staff said they heard something. I was sent for a scan and upon closer inspection, the radiologist confirmed there was a “tiny” spot. The expert who interpreted my results said “there is nothing to worry about, but you might want to follow up on that at some point.” I never pushed, nobody pushed.

 With both experts not concerned, I was relieved. I was too busy with my life and family to worry about “nothing.” I just let it go and began taking the newly prescribed asthma medication.  

Several years later,  I found myself struggling to breathe in humidity.  At first, I thought I was just out of shape, but it persisted. Maybe my asthma was just out of control? Thinking it was allergies, I began feeling worse, lasting the entire summer. My inner voice told me there was something more going on.  Ignoring it through the Autumn,  because I didn’t want something minor to slow me down, I pushed my body until I was nearly ready to collapse from this sinus infection. 

At Christmas, I headed back to the doctor’s office where she could hear the fluid in my lungs. The fluid highlighted a suspicious mass in the scan. Those last few weeks couldn’t pass quickly  enough for my January appointment with a specialist.

January came, and I saw the pulmonologist for closer examination. I’ll never forget his words, “I see CT scans  in and out every day and if I thought this was lung cancer, I’d tell you right now.” I immediately thought about the radiologist who saw the “tiny” spot years earlier and dismissed it as nothing. A few weeks later a biopsy confirmed my worst fears. It was indeed a diagnosis of stage IIIA non-small cell lung cancer.

My oncologist presented my case before a tumor board of experts where they confirmed I had KRAS-positive lung cancer.  This lung cancer biomarker test guided my treatment path.  Learning my tumor was KRAS-positive allowed me to make the most informed treatment decisions for my lung cancer. The best course for me at the time was chemo, followed by a lobectomy

Since then, I’ve had other treatments with new outbursts of lung cancer and continue to get regular scans. I can’t go back to the original ”tiny” spot, but what I learned is, “You either fight, or you die.” I had to accept what I couldn’t change and change what I could. 

As a full-time lung cancer advocate, I want to ensure patients feel confident to speak up and ask questions when in doubt and make sure no one feels as alone like I did at the start of my lung cancer journey.  My advice to other lung cancer patients:

  • Tune into your body and listen
  •  Ask the questions to learn from your healthcare team
  •  Take control of your journey
  • Connect with others that have a similar diagnosis, to learn & share

Hope shared is hope multiplied. I’ve made it my mission to empower others by sharing my story. Take control of your journey and get connected.

 These actions are key to staying on your path to empowerment.

Nancy’s Lung Cancer Journey

No one is ever prepared to hear the words “You have cancer”. Even though (from asking for an x-ray that morphed into a CT scan) I knew there was a large tumor in the middle of my chest, I still wasn’t ready. And the pulmonologist was so kind in delivering the diagnosis. He went down the hall with the needle aspiration from my left clavicular lymph node and returned ½ hour later with a tri-fold paper towel on which he had drawn my lungs with the locations of the tumors – upper right lobe (T1), central lymph nodes of the mediastinal area (in total, about 2” x 5”), and one on the lymph node at my neck. And he said “You have small cell lung cancer (SCLC). There’s good news and bad news. The bad news is that it is extremely aggressive. The good news is that it is extremely responsive to treatment. If you are deemed to be “limited stage” (there are only 2 stages for SCLC – I call them good and bad), you have a 30% chance of long-term survival – a normal life.” In mid-August, I thought I’d be dead by Christmas. I spent about 2 minutes on the internet – what I saw was enough to tell me not to look further.

Doctors matter. A lot. I was treated at an NCI-designated Comprehensive Cancer Center by several exceptional doctors. What made them exceptional? Their listening and observational skills first and foremost, their dedication to staying current with research, and their caring. I was lucky – I didn’t have to search for them. These women – my primary care physician, my oncologist and my radiation oncologist kept me alive. They made me part of the 30%, even though my diagnosis said I was borderline extensive stage. It only took 5 months of chemotherapy (cisplatin and etoposide) and twice daily radiation during some of those 5 months, along with an episode of sepsis (broad-spectrum antibiotics, 2 blood transfusions, and a week in the hospital), to have me declared “No evidence of disease (NED)” by early December.

While my friends and family celebrated, I didn’t feel like celebrating. My life had been turned upside-down, I felt wrung-out and fatigued all the time, had lost so much weight that nothing fit, and had lost all my hair. And I knew that in January, I had to have 10 days of prophylactic whole brain radiation to kill any errant lung cancer cells (I was pretty sure it would make me stupid!) And that’s when my doctor prescribed an anti-depressant, which helped.

What did I do during this time – besides visit doctors and hospitals?  I walked – a lot. It was the easiest way for me to exercise, and my boxer was happy to help in that regard. I ate well – meaning lots of fruits and vegetables. And I meditated with guided CDs designed for cancer patients. And I kept up with my friends – often meeting one or more of them for lunch downtown. That not only passed the time but kept my spirits as up as they could be – a distraction if you will.

And when it was over, and I was deemed “cured”, I got angry. Angry that no one talked about the number one cancer killer. Through my doctor, I got in touch with the National Lung Cancer Partnership (now merged with the Lung Cancer Research Foundation), got involved in advocacy, and haven’t stopped. For me – it is healing to try to do something – anything – to prevent more people from going through what I went by raising awareness and research funding.

I have also learned that some treatments don’t let you forget that you had them. I had a CT scan every 90 days for the first 5 years after diagnosis. In the 4th year, they saw that my left ventricle was enlarged and referred me to cardiology for cardiomyopathy (heart failure). It was bad – so I went from surviving the #2 killer to facing the #1 killer! But with treatment from a cardiologist who specialized in heart failure from chemotherapy, I now have an implanted medical device, low-dose daily medication, and a nearly normal heart function. There’s also the foot neuropathy I’ve learned to live with (it’s not so bad) and some balance issues (likely from inner ear damage from cisplatin). But I’m alive!! Alive certainly beats the alternative.