Please forgive another quick update, but I wanted to put everyone’s minds at ease so you can go enjoy the weekend. ❤️
We got good news today.
The surgical consult went well, and Cynde’s team is happy and optimistic about how she has responded to this first round of chemo. Most importantly, they feel good about moving forward with surgery.
Surgery is scheduled for Aug. 27 at 7:30 a.m. at Anschutz Medical Center in Aurora. It is expected to take six to seven hours, depending on what the surgical team finds. The current plan includes a full hysterectomy, with the possibility of removing additional intestinal tissue if necessary.
After surgery, Cynde will spend some time in a higher level of care — somewhere between a traditional hospital room and the ICU — so they can keep a close eye on her. Her total hospital stay is expected to be about four to seven days.
Recovery will take some time. She won’t be able to drive for at least a couple of weeks, depending on how she is healing and whether she is still taking pain medication. We are also hopeful that surgery will allow her to begin transitioning back to a regular diet.
In September, she’ll begin three more rounds of chemo.
If that sounds like a lot, it is.
But here is the part we are holding onto: Her team is very optimistic. This is the path they hoped she would be able to take, and they believe this is the best treatment plan moving forward.
So tonight, we are grateful. Grateful the chemo did its job. Grateful there is a plan. Grateful for an incredible medical team. And incredibly grateful for all of you who continue to surround Cynde and Pops with so much love.
Franklin D. Roosevelt once said, “There are many ways of moving forward, but only one way of standing still.”
Forward looks different these days.
Sometimes it’s healing. Sometimes it’s better lab results. Sometimes it’s walking the dog or having lunch with friends.
Forward isn’t always dramatic. Sometimes it’s simply finding a little more normal in the middle of the storm.
On Monday, Cynde will complete her third and final round in this first set of chemotherapy. The second treatment went really well, and we are incredibly grateful for anti-nausea medications and TPN, which continues to give her stomach the chance to rest and heal.
The nutrition pump is giving us good news, too. Her infusion time has been reduced from 18 hours a day to just 12, and her team adjusted the formula to provide a little more protein and calories.
The pump still has a personality of its own. It can be a bit persnickety, demanding attention with the occasional beep that always seems to happen at the least convenient time. But we are so thankful for what it makes possible. Without TPN, this journey would look very different.
Forward.
After this round of chemo, Cynde will have another CT scan so her medical team can see how well the treatments have worked. From there, they’ll begin planning surgery, with the extent of the procedure depending on what the scan reveals.
At her last oncology appointment, the doctors shared that her blood work looks really good and the chemotherapy is doing exactly what they hoped it would.
Nice work, Chemo.
Life, thankfully, continues alongside doctor’s appointments and infusion pumps.
Both Pops and Cynde have been reconnecting with friends. The photo above was taken during a lunch outing where Cynde was able to enjoy real food—a milestone that felt worth celebrating. She has also embraced a new hairdo thanks to a good wig and a great stylist.
Forward also meant taking Ryan’s service dog, Coulie, out for a walk. As soon as Coulie saw the walker, something clicked. He slipped right back into service dog mode, as if no time had passed at all.
Dogs remember.
The rest of us are moving forward, too.
The Phews are making the most of what’s left of summer, although it’s hard to believe school starts in just a couple of weeks. Nothing says “moving forward” quite like watching a passel of teenage boys wrestle in the pool, consume second and third breakfasts, or argue over the best NFL team. Looking back at where this summer began and where we are today is almost mind-blowing.
We know there is still surgery ahead. There are still unknowns.
But today, we celebrate forward.
Because forward doesn’t always mean you’ve reached the finish line.
I need some good news: I love this toe-tappin ’ song by Shaboozey. I would listen to it in the car when Ryan was sick, my hand tapping in tune on the steering wheel, singing the lyrics. But I could never get through singing along; I would always tear up, choke up, and let Shaboozey take the wheel.
It hurts my soul to write that we are calling for some good news, yet again.
Are you hanging on?
Are you saddled up with me?
Because this one came from out of the universe and smacked our tight-knit, surviving family on the side of the head.
Our Cynde, my stepmama, Nonnie, and Pops’ beloved, was diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer a couple of weeks ago. I won’t give stages, because really stages mean nothing, but I will tell you that this cancer is meaner than a rattlesnake in a sleeping bag. Not that any cancer is nice or cooperative; none of them are, but this one is particularly assy.
We have gone through diagnosis and had a plan last week. It was a tough plan: chemo, surgery, chemo wash during surgery, chemo. We like our oncologist, and Anschutz was on it.
But these terrible cells hold court in her belly, making eating, drinking, and pooping impossible. Cynde has been miserable and unable to hold food down for over a week. Eating a cracker is an impossible task.
When you can’t eat a cracker for seven days, and you have assy cancer holding court in your belly, AND, since Ovarian cancer makes your blood really clotty, so blood clots are an issue as well, you end up in the ICU.
Which was exactly where we found ourselves yesterday.
To make things a little more complex, Pops, being the amazing Pops he is, was dropping the Phews off in Michigan yesterday BECAUSE my sweet Phews JUST lost their dad and they need some time with cousins on a lake.
Cynde’s journey to the ICU started as an appointment to drain fluid from her belly. A friend took her to Anschutz early yesterday morning. (Thank you, Sue).
Around noon, Sue and I started texting….
Things aren’t great; I think they are going to admit her.
We are in room 123
They are concerned about a couple of things… going to the ICU.
When can you get here?
Call when you get here.
It’s funny how trauma takes you back. How you can drive that same route to the hospital, smell the same smells, yell at the same cars. How time can stand still, and the medical world moves so fast.
A brief hug with Sue at the entrance and into the room to talk to the doctors. A long story short (er), they scoped Cynde’s belly and determined that these terrible stomach issues do not require emergency GI surgery, but they do require a super uncomfortable NG tube, rest for her stomach, and hope that she can eat a cracker very soon.
Pops came in- in a rush to hear the good news that surgery on a Sunday night was not needed.
Today, things look better. The NG tube is pulling out cancer goo. The clots are being addressed with meds; Cynde is upright and alert.
We have moved from are we dealing with a surgical emergency?” to “Can we medically stabilize her and figure out the best cancer treatment plan?”
Is that the good news, Shaboozey? I guess we have to take it as such.
I know….I know, I know, I know. It is a lot. But I will tell you this about my people-
We are strong in a crisis. I am not tooting my own horn, but I know this about all of us.
We have a great medical team.
Whether we like it or not, this is where we are right now.
What is needed? That is a tough question. For my friends, I ask what I asked six months ago when Ryan went into Hospice… please let me move in and out. I might not respond to everything, but don’t count me out- I need my people. And thank you for letting me keep taking all the oxygen in the room.
For my Pops. Call, leave a message, call again. Take him golfing, take him to lunch. Hold his hand if he cries, make it awkward.
For Cynde, I have known this woman for over 40 years. She is so strong, tough as nails, and so private. She doesn’t need a meal train; she doesn’t want a fuss or pity; she doesn’t want flowers because she says they die and that makes her sad….she wants to manifest all of her energy into fighting this terrible disease. She wants to be here for her husband and grandchildren…..send that into the universe and give it a little extra moxie.
People will tell you during times like these to take care of yourself. Sometimes taking care of yourself means knowing exactly where you need to be and showing up anyway.
So that’s what we’re doing.
We’re showing up.
For Pops.
For Cynde.
For each other.
And for now, we’re taking our good news where we can find it. No emergency surgery. A stomach that can rest. A medical team we trust. A woman tough as nails who is still sitting upright and fighting.
Welcome to Samsmom. I'm Heather and this is my journey as we navigate love, loss, rare disease, hope and resilency. Our family carries a POLG-1 genetic mutation that took my two children, Jack and Samantha and most recently, my brother Ryan. It's not an easy place to be, but here we are- with humor, love and grace, here we are. 