First Three Months on Tagrisso

Happening soon! I am talking about the upcoming CT Scan and blood tests this month after my first 90 days of taking 80 mg of Tagrisso once daily.  I had been popping the pills religiously at 6:00 every night except for one evening when I completely forgot all about it.  What happened was, three Foodies picked me up at 4:30p.m. for a 5:00p.m. seafood dinner at Bonefish Grill. Six o’clock simply got lost in the hoopla.  It happens when a mug filled with an awesome designer draft beer and a heaping plate of bang-bang shrimp are strategically placed in front of my eyeballs.  It was not until midnight that the missed Tagrisso dawned on me.  I decided then and there that the occasion had risen to switch Tagrisso-taking time to the crack of dawn, as in 6:00a.m. and get it out of the way for the day.  It does work much better.

Tagrisso continues to give me zero nasty side effects:  no upset stomach, no shortness of breath, no fatigue, no diarrhea, no constipation, no rashes, no dry skin, no pain, no swelling of anything. Nothing.  I get additional bronzing and Vitamin D directly from the California morning sun without adversarial effect.  I keep a vigil on my eyebrows to catch any signs of bushiness. I scrutinize my eyelashes daily for indications of becoming mutants. As a matter of fact, I have noticed changes.  My eyebrows have developed a new growth pattern.  The outer ends curve upwards like handlebars.  And the hairs are coming out long and white or gray.  I have become the female Mr Clean! I’ve trimmed them and plucked the wayward hairs once already.  I don’t blame Tagrisso for the graying.  After all I am waaay past the age of innocence.  My lashes that Tarceva left stubby have been growing back darker and longer, making the eyes more soulful and fraught with the come-hither look.  This development is getting me all stoked!

I’m truly curious what the upcoming CT scans will reveal.  Is the adrenal occupier still on its perch? Then there’s the Flying Saucer at the bottom of my left lung – the portion of the tumor that Tarceva did not wipe out but Rociletinib kept at bay for nearly three years.  Did it grow bigger, get smaller, or stay the same? What happened to the Milky Way in both lungs? Are the mysterious tiny nodules still too many to count? What are they, anyway? This is exciting!

This upcoming CT Scan would be my first outside the university environment. Since my cancer diagnosis in 2012, all my cancer treatments, tests, and scans had been in a succession of four teaching hospitals: University of New Mexico, University of Colorado, University of California in Santa Monica, and University of California in Irvine.  Now I am with a one-man-band Onc in Southern Orange County.  Ta ta to stardom or diva-hood in a one-man-band atmosphere.

Since dropping Rociletinib, the CO-1686 drug, and starting Tagrisso, I have not set set foot in ol’ Club Med (UCI Orange).   Life is more enjoyable when it is not designed around three-week blocks of time.  Life is so much simpler without drug-induced diabetes and without Metformin. Life is a beach indeed.

My son, his wife, and their ten-year-old son – an only child – the one who they thought would get past statutory age still unclear on the concept of rhyming, visited me for five days in my manor in the retirement resort living at its best.  I delighted in the opportunity to host them.  However, having given up the vehicle to be true to my new minimalist lifestyle, I became the tourist!  In their rented car, they hauled me around town.  We hiked a steep trail that took an hour and a half round trip.  We gloated over our accomplishment of making it to the top where we could see the grandeur and beauty of the Pacific Ocean.  My chest swelled with pride in going to toe to toe – albeit a tad slower – with the young ones during the ascent. But the descent was another story.  My son had to hold my hands.  Otherwise, my bod rolling down uncontrollably to the bottom of the canyon like a  fallen log was a distinct possibility.

I miss Dr Brevity and his staff.  Obviously the feeling is mutual.  Out of the blue his RN took time from her extremely busy schedule, phoned me and asked how things are going. The trial coordinator sent me a social media message saying “I am missing you that’s all.” I like to think those sweet thoughts could pulsate vibes to the CT scan machine to take wonderful images during my scan.  Wishful thinking is good.