About Me

This is me..

If you must know, I am a 23 year old girl who typically feels like an aging old woman. And I’m proud of it. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I’m the first to admit when I am in a state bodily disarray; I crave steamed broccoli most nights and I love these cookies called “Digestives” (they’re delish); I read books that are typically over 75 years of age and smell as such; and I won’t jump at the chance to stand around at a bar yelling/chatting over bad hair band music, though I will order a glass of Sauvignon Blanc at that bar. The list goes on.

Point is, I live a relatively healthy and balanced life. Sprinkle in some residual stress left over from working on a [winning ] political campaign and typical familial dysfunctionalities – there you have it. Yet, a week after said campaign, November 11, 2008, I went in to have surgery on a supposedly benign, albeit baseball sized, cyst and came out with what is termed “high grade, unclassified sarcoma” in my right thigh. Weird. How did that get there? I don’t fucking know. All I know is that over the course of 6 months prior, 3 separate doctors poked at the lump in my leg and not one suggested a biopsy, allowing the mass to grow to a size requiring multiple treatments. I’m not bitter, or anything.

Most people have never heard of sarcoma, because it is an incredibly rare disease when compared cancer in the breast or lung, for example. Sarcoma, in turn, is a cancer of the connective tissue (bone, cartilage, fat, muscle) and accounts for about 1% of all cases of cancer. There are many types of sarcomas, depending on the origin of the tumor, among other factors. After some back and forth as to the nature of my tumor, the pathologists at UCLA and MD Anderson agreed that it was a high-grade unclassified sarcoma. This means that it 1) can spread quickly (in contrast to low-grade/slow moving) and 2) that it does not fit into one of the many distinct types of soft-tissue sarcomas, making any estimation of treatment results little more than an educated guess.

Skip forward a few months to today: April 30, 2009. I have treated my cancer with a resection surgery that removed my 5.2+ CM tumor along with 2 CM all the way around it. This was done flawlessly and with clear margins (no cancer cells on the outer edges of the tumor) by Dr. Eilber at UCLA. I then completed a round of radiation that last around 2 months. At this point, because my cancer had not metastasized (I thank my intuition for that), I had to make a decision regarding chemo: do it or don’t do it. My current oncologist at UCLA said yes; the second opinion at City of Hope said no; and the third opinion at MD Anderson proclaimed a resounding YES.

So, I did just that. I said YES, I’ll do it! Lose my hair, why not? And then NO, off to my next adventure in life I go! Now, after being weighed down by confusion, hesitation, justification, and the fear of regret, I have decided to embrace what I see to be a clear case of caveat emptor – buyer beware; that is, I know the risks and I’ll take my chances. Shit.

Simply put, the facts are these:
1) My tumor was high-grade. If there are undetectable cancer cells left in my body, they can spread quickly.
2) It was deep below the skin.
3) It was greater than 5 CM.

These three factors working together invite the oncologist to strongly suggest chemotherapy. However, because my tumor is gone and it hasn’t spread, there is no way to demonstrate whether or not the treatment will be effective. In truth, it could already be completely gone. Or, it could be waiting to pop back into my life at the most ill-timed moment, any moment. What can be measured then? Well, I guess that would be my the scope and extent of my healthy life. Despite the risks, I can only have confidence in this decision and I can hope for a future free of cancer. I want your help to get me through these next 5-6 months.

Love,

Jaclyn