Cinde Weatherby
At 62 years old, I can still remember when
people were hesitant to even say the word “cancer” out loud. I’m
not sure why. Even today, there are friends and acquaintances who
hesitate to share the fact that they have cancer. Maybe it is my
contrariness or my stubborn obsession with the truth, but while I
don’t feel defined by the fact that I have brain cancer, I’ve
never been fearful or embarrassed about sharing that fact. I’d
rather tell my story than have someone else invent the narrative.
Mine is a long narrative beginning in 1998, with surgery 10 years
later, and a pretty quick recovery and relative normalcy for the 5
years since.
Not one of us on this planet knows when his or
her time will be up. But, we with brain cancer surely make life
decisions that factor it in. In October 2013, my latest life
decision was to leave my career and concentrate on three things: (1)
continuing to improve my physical fitness; (2) volunteering my time
to causes I believe in; and (3) exploring avocations that previously
I convinced myself I didn’t have time for – having fun through
travel, art, researching family ancestry, music, and reading. I
couldn’t be happier with my decision!
In this blog I will share the details of my
brain cancer story, as I know all of us survivors are interested in
knowing the stories of others. I never encountered any individuals
with the same issues until getting my contact with the BP5K in 2013.
Hearing their stories are interesting to me and I believe important
for them to share.
My journey with brain cancer began in 1998 when
an “anomaly” was found in my brain during a CT scan to be check
for MS although I didn’t know that was the case at the time. I’d
been having a leg ache and my family doctor sent me to a neurologist
for further examination. To rule out MS, he did the scan and called
me late one night as I was packing for a two-week road trip with my
son. He had found what he thought was evidence of a stroke. Since I
had no symptoms of a stroke (and none of the high risk factors
either), he later sent me to a neuro-oncologist at the UT
Southwestern Medical School that he had heard speak at a conference.
Still having no symptoms of any tumor from 1998 to 2004, she
continued to monitor my abnormality on a routine basis with MRIs and
neuro check-ups. Once during that time, she had me see a
well-respected neurosurgeon at the school. He looked at my MRI films
and did not think it necessary at that point to operate, especially
since the abnormality (then being alternately referred to as a
possible cyst or tumor) had not grown nor caused any problems for me.
Early one morning in November 2004, I had a
seizure in my bed and was rushed to the local ER. I have no memory
of the seizure nor the day after that. The neurologist then
suggested another visit to the neurosurgeon, who said he believed the
need for surgery at that point to be optional and suggested that I
instead use anti-seizure drugs. It was nearly two years before I had
another seizure, and then nearly a year until the third. Each time,
the seizure medication dosage was increased. Then I had two seizures
six months apart. The last one was very minor, and perhaps not a
seizure but a reaction to the anti-seizure medication. Unlike the
other seizures that I never knew were coming, I felt the need to get
on the floor and caught my foot on something that twisted my right
leg and broke both small bones just at the ankle. I saw the
neurologist two days later for my routine checkup and when she saw me
on crutches she suggested it was time to discover what the thing in
my head was since I was going to be out of commission for a while
with the broken leg. Two days later I saw the neurosurgeon who agreed
it would be a good idea and scheduled the surgery for a week later.
Being in the right frontal lobe in a highly accessible location, he
felt very confident of good results.
I had a craniotomy and the tumor was removed
October 7, 2008. The neurosurgeon told us later that the
neuro-oncologist had been correct in her suggestion that it be
removed. While he never used the word cancer that I recall, I did
read on paperwork received in the following weeks that it was a grade
II oligodendral glioma. Neither radiation nor chemotherapy was
deemed necessary by either physician. I was home in my own bed on
the third night after surgery. I was back at work part-time in one
month (in a walking boot and taking the bus to/from work). I had no
cognitive or physical deficits from the surgery or the tumor.
During my first three-month check-up with the
neuro-oncologist, she suggested that the new MRI seemed to indicate
some cancer on the margins and that I should consider a year of
chemotherapy. The surgeon was more prone to believe that the films
just showed the cavity and healing from the surgery. After
considering it several months, I agreed to the monthly 5-day oral
chemo, which in hindsight was not too bad. At the time, the worst
part of it was lethargy, extreme constipation, and weight gain.
However, as evidence of it being bearable, during that year, I was
able to work full-time, travel for work if needed, receive an offer
of a new job and move from Fort Worth to Austin, and go on with my
life.
Thus far I have had no additional seizures. I
continue to have regular MRIs at intervals that have been lengthening
– from every two months to now seven. Since 2010, radiation has
been a topic of discussion a couple of times, but not agreed upon by
the surgeon or me. My last MRI review and neuro visit was just this
week in Dallas. It is still believed that I may have remnants of
tumor at the margins of the resection, but any growth is very, very
slow. Yes, just before the MRI each time, you worry about the
potential results. But the rest of the time I try to remain focused
on my daily life and all the things that I still want to do. I
strive to not let the disease define me. Since retiring, I typically
jog six days a week and workout with weights two days. I’m in
better physical shape than in any of the 43 years that I was a
workaholic.
I guess I omitted the fact that I had left my
husband of eight years and moved to Fort Worth about six weeks before
breaking my leg and the surgery. My first two weeks of surgery
recovery were enormously aided by my sister staying with me. She had
just retired from a very successful corporate position in Florida and
was the first person I called when deciding to undergo surgery. I
will never be able to repay her for the wonderful care and help that
she gave me during that period. I’d just moved into a home that
wasn’t even really put together and while I slept, she shopped and
made my home more livable. My son also spent several days with me
just before surgery and afterwards even though he was in his last
year of medical school and living/working in Austin. My lovely
daughter-in-law helped me get to appointments just before my surgery,
staying with me in Fort Worth when she needed to be back in Austin
working on her Ph.D. As an extremely independent person, it is very
difficult for me to ask for help. I was so blessed to receive it
from wonderful family, good friends and even those at work that I
barely knew.
So that is my cancer story. It’s full of
good outcomes. I’m truly living the good life and having the
opportunity to pursue my desires and also receive the rewards of
being able to devote some of my time to the benefit of others and the
greater good. I see such courage and stamina in so many of the
people I’ve met through BP5K who are dealing with so much more than
I’ve had to face. I applaud the efforts of the BP5K founders and
volunteers who are so dedicated to providing support to those with
the disease as well as the people who care for them. It is so
encouraging to witness this fundraising race contributing real
resources to researchers conducting trials that in the not too
distant future could offer new hope and treatments. That hope is
what we all share for each other.
For BP5K 2014, I’ve just initiated a team for
the race and call it Cinde’s Striding Strivers. The word “strive”
has always been a favorite. It is an honest word that implies great
desire. In the dictionary you will find it defined as “to exert
oneself vigorously; to try hard; make strenuous efforts toward any
goal.” I feel somewhat confident of reaching my goal of 5 team
members, but will strive for it to be many more than that who join me
in walking, jogging, or running or offering their funds for the
cause.
Join Cinde's Striding Strivers and support her here!
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