The Story Of Rosie

Written by her husband Gerry to Nancy Dahm
March 10, 2003

Rosie was diagnosed many years ago in Riverside California with the "best" cancer known to man. In addition to spot bleeding, she continually complained of sensitive or sore breasts. I was working as a field biologist for the State of California in Southern California that meant a lot of seat time in the pick up truck traveling through the golden state. I would listen to all of the talk shows on the radio, especially Dr Edell. One day a lady called in with similar symptoms as Rosie. He instructed the lady to get to her Doctor in a hurry as she was describing the symptoms of uterine cancer.

When I got back home, I gently persuaded Rosie, against her best wishes, to go see her Doctor. Sure enough, we were told that she had uterine cancer but it was the best because all that was needed was to go in and remove the uterus and all of that other female stuff. Rosie made all of her follow up appointments with no indication of cancer on her C-125 blood panel. As we would learn later, throughout the whole ordeal her cancer never showed itself on any of the blood tests, only through CAT scans and then PET scans.

All was great after her surgery and life continued on well, for about 3 years. We were in the process of moving from Southern California to Sacramento, as I had been promoted to Senior Ag Biologist. She would call me with tremendous pains across her ovary line. I mean bent over pains. I had also been a volunteer fireman and had observed a lot of people in pain, but I had never seen anything like this! Her Doctors in Riverside had diagnosed her with diverticulitis and treated her appropriately. Her pains would come and go no different than before although she had a new diet.

She was up visiting me in Sacramento when it hit again. Damn that's a lot of pain. We were almost ready to move her up here so we got her a Doctor up here. Well this Doc summoned another Doc and they proceeded to put more fingers in places that you would want to know. But they did find the mother lode, a grapefruit size tumor on the other side of the vaginal wall from where her uterus had been formerly attached. This is the "oh shit" part!! This was serious stuff.

We were referred to an oncologist who did a more thorough evaluation and laid out the news and roadmap. Surgery would be first to remove the grapefruit. If she survived the operation, then she would have chemotherapy. If she survived the chemo, then she would have radiation. Oh my God! The four-hour surgery turned out to be a 12 hour surgery with major complications and blood loss. Several days were spent in ICU, CCU and other alphabet soups and a temporary colostomy added but she did survive.

The chemo regimen was devastating and the insurance company roadblocks and detours were a nightmare. However, the ole girl just kept going once we found a great anti nausea drug that wasn't first on the insurance companies list. One good thing was the insertion of a shunt to administer the chemo drugs right near the heart. I took care of those battles and let her do the healing; you have to be the advocate for your patient.

Add another couple of years went by with clean CAT and PET scans every 6 months, alternating due to insurance company expense considerations. Out of the blue, shotgun pellet like spots appeared on her CAT scan of her chest/ lungs and a larger spot was observed in the very middle of the liver. Oh (#!...) part II. Devastated to say the least, I broke the news to her as the Doc had called me and explained the seriousness of this recent discovery. She collapsed in my arms and I though it was over, I was afraid that she had given in, like I had read about others. Sorry, I wouldn't allow it.

He told me that she had 6 months if we were lucky but I understood that biology is the study of life and there are no guarantees. Again, I took care of my patient and let her do the healing. The Doc, a very smart man and a Graduate of Stanford University, set the course of chemo only because surgery or radiation was ruled out due to the location in the liver and the numerous spots in the lungs. Believe it or not, her port-a-cath was still functional after 3 years of no cleaning or anything. After several months of chemo she was unable to get up or stop the uncontrollable shaking. She was stabilized in the hospital and sent home after a couple of days with vials of Epogen and the other one for white blood cells (Neupogen I believe). I was taught how to give the injections, which I gave often.

Her health was just deteriorating due to the chemo, as she was requiring blood every week in spite of pumping her full of EPO and the other one for the white blood cells. As I said before, her Doctor, Dr Robert Miller, is a Stanford graduate and there is a difference let me tell you. He did some research and outlined a quality of life plan for Rosie’s last days on this side. Since chemo wasn’t working without killing her directly and the other two mainstream options - surgery and radiation where ruled out. His research produced an old hormone that was used to treat similar cancers in the olden days before all of the new chemo drugs took over. He said that there was no data on her specific cancer, but similar cancers had responded positively to Megace. Although he wasn't advocating a cure, he was saying that this could slow the spread and make her remaining days more comfortable than the fast death by chemo.

The first CAT scan after 6 months of Megace looked about the same as before, but maybe some of the spots on the lungs were less in size, but too close to tell. Six months later it was more than evident that the numbers of spots in the lungs were reduced and the liver spot didn’t appear as large. Every six months brought great news, until there were none!!!!! No spots, nada, nothing, zippo. Dr Miller can't explain it, but he will take it. We have been clean for a couple of years now and no one wants to stop the Megace. Why? Instead of slowing the cancer down, it went away.

There are other possible explanations, which include a higher power, the spirit of Rosie, the support from her hubby and friends. Whatever, we will take it and not be too boastful. One event, which I believe was a turning point that still brings shivers to me whenever I hear it, involves our good friend Charlotte and Thomas Kinkade, the famous painter. Charlotte was working down south (Ca.) as a seminar coordinator and had a large crowd during a rainy day seminar. Afterward she fought LA traffic to get up to Pasadena where Thomas Kinkade was having a book signing. LA freeway traffic is unbearable at best, but on a rainy day, people become idiots and do all sorts of crazy things with their cars. Thankfully, Charlotte made it safe and sound to the book signing only to find the line snaking though the store and out into the parking lot, in the rain.

One thing that I had learned through my caregiver research was the value of having short term and long-term goals for the patient. One of the picture books that I had bought for Rosie’s hospital overnighter during her first rounds of chemo was of romantic bed and breakfast get- a- ways in California. One highlighted was of a lighthouse in the San Francisco Bay; she would fall asleep with the book opened to that page repeatedly. So one of the short-term goals was to go there for a night— we did! We fell in Love with the lighthouse and the whole concept of lighthouse guiding the way… through her treatments. I placed a lighted lighthouse in our bedroom through all of this so she always had light and a guide. Now back to Charlotte out in the rain.

Thomas Kinkade was having the book signing to celebrate the release of his new book that featured a lighthouse on the cover. Charlotte thought that Rosie needed it since we (actually just me) had just been told that she had about 6 months. After standing out in the rain and snaking her way through the store, Charlotte was getting closer. One of Kinkade’s handlers informed the line that Mr. Kinkade would only sign his name in the new book so please don’t ask for personalization, etc. You can’t tell Charlotte anything if she has her redheaded self set on a mission, especially a mission for Rosie. She approached Mr. Kinkade and started bleeding all over him about Rosie, death, cancer, lighthouses, and I can’t imagine what else. Apparently he told her to calm down and asked her to slowly explain about her friend. She related the whole story from day one, knowing her it wasn’t too slow. Being a deeply religious man, Mr. Kinkade stood up and briefly explained to the soggy crowd about Rosie’s plight. He asked them all to join hands and bow their heads in prayer for Rosie. He led them in a prayer and then wrote the prayer in the front of the book. [I now have tears in my eyes and chills in my back]. I guess there were many wet eyes in the bookstore that night.

Charlotte got to her car and called us immediately, balling. We were crying as she told the story. Charlotte didn’t read the prayer in the book that night. We haven’t either. We don’t want to let the magic out by opening the book. Ever since that night four years ago, Rosie has not had cancer. The Doc can’t explain her cancer disappearing, but he will take it.

Take care, Gerry