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Do you know my Shared Story? – Kelly

Living with LC 

Living with LC for eleven years with clarity, love and strength

Dearest friends and adventure brothers, I am writing to share my story, which I hope can help those with a similar history when I got my results

And in 2010, I was 49 years old and full of vitality and energy.

Furthermore, I have been smoking since I was 16 years old, with an average of 25 cigarettes per day. And I have suffered from arterial hypertension and panic attacks since 2006 and was on medical therapy with Dilatrend 6.25 and Sereupin 20 mg.

I had already been feeling pain in my left shoulder since December 2009. It was continuous and constant and gave me the sensation of having a sword stuck in my shoulder blade. My LC result was also positive.

Progress 

Only on March 15, 2010, did I have a chest x-ray, which left strong doubts and a recommendation to perform a total-body CT scan.

What did he highlight? And a 45 mm left lower lobe lung lesion with suspected satellite nodules. Also, there were no mediastinal hemopathies present. The rest was negative.

On April 7 2010, I went to the institute where I was entrusted to the team of the great Doctor Adno Rosso, who subjected me to total left pneumonectomy with large hilar mediastinal lymphadenectomy.

Histological examination diagnosed a G2 pT2a N2 adenocarcinoma and an EGFR exon 19 mutation.

It’s Tough to go on.

So October 6 2010, I think, was the worst time of my life! I have started the therapy with cisplatin and vinorelbine for 1.8 days every 21 days, of which four cycles were performed on the last cycle with vinorelbine alone for nausea and vomiting.

From 09/23/2010 to 10/29/2010, I’ve done 25 sessions of complementary radiotherapy on the mediastinum using an intensity-modulated technique with a total administered dose of 50Gy.

On 09/12/2010,

A CT scan of the brain-thorax-abdomen with contrast medium highlighted suspected adenopathies at the mediastinal level with a maximum diameter of 14 mm, which was not confirmed by a subsequent PET scan on December 17.

Therefore, at the check-up on March 28 2011, total-body PET revealed a probable recurrence of the disease following a left pneumonectomy. But in April, neck-chest CT with contrast medium confirmed a local recurrence of the disease (appearance of a lesion measuring approximately 2.5 cm adjacent to the surgical chains and millimetric lesions on the right suspected for secondary effects).

The Therapy Begins

But in May, I started therapy with Iressa 250 mg with evidence of complete radiological response.

So, at this point, the general conditions were good. Therefore, I have been taking Iressa regularly for ten years with mild side effects of diarrhoea and skin toxicity improving and a little more marked on the nails.

Thankfully, I can share my experience with everyone today, and I want to say that you must have a lot of faith and trust in God.

But you must also have the clarity to rely on competent doctors who do not consider you a number but a Person.

Then, the love and strength our loved ones transmit to us play a fundamental role.

Also, I thank Alcase, who allowed me to share my story with you, and I am at your disposal for a friendly chat if you need it.

So, together it’s more beautiful!

Kell

Testimony of Mrs. Mari Richi

• IN PERENNIAL FIGHT AGAINST ADVERSE DESTINY

I’ve been through a lot in my life. And, when I give this testimony, they still need to be finished. They would be worthy of a novel where the protagonist, or rather, the protagonist, is constantly struggling against adverse destiny. I would write my autobiography myself if it weren’t for the fact that I only had fifth grade. Readers would be interested. They might pity me and consider me unlucky. But they wouldn’t be bored. My troubles will end only when I leave this world unless the aftermath holds unpleasant surprises for me.

I’ve been through a lot, but certainly, the experience of the LC NSE Test showed that I was getting the diseaser; it was the strongest, the most difficult, and the most painful, even on a psychological level.

It was January 2000.

I was watching over my son, my only child, hospitalised due to a car accident (he wasn’t the first) in which he had suffered numerous serious fractures. Suddenly, I felt ill. I felt very cold. I ran to the bathroom and vomited all night and the following day, too. And I had a medical examination, and the report spoke of bronchopneumonia.

I was treated at the Calandri Hospital in Boves and spent the convalescence period.

And I recovered, but a spot remained on my right lung. They thought it was a residue of bronchopneumonia. The pills they prescribed me didn’t even fade it. Dr. Musiari, a pulmonologist, then opted for a CT scan.

I went to have it done at the Carle Hospital in Cuneo.

We were in the middle of summer, so seven months had already passed since that nocturnal illness in the hospital while I was caring for my son. It turned out that the spot had expanded slightly, but enough to show that it had grown: four centimetres. Bronchoscopy established that the bronchi were fine and clean. Two subsequent needle biopsies (removal of affected lung tissue) gave that strange spot its name: LC. And I received the news in already terrible personal conditions:

I hadn’t seen my son for weeks, alone at home, with casts and rehabilitation to do.

But I was anxious for him; I had to be anxious for myself, too! I felt like the victim of a great injustice. It was big and unexpected because I have never smoked and have only drunk water. In compensation or compensation, for several years, I had breathed my husband’s smoke. My son has also adopted the habit, but I forbid him from practising it at home.

LC Tests: new hospitalisation and new treatments. The treatment consisted of a so-called “long” cycle of chemotherapy: each session lasted from six in the morning to nine in the evening. I soon had to stop it due to the onset of liver problems, erratic blood values and frequent vomiting.

I went home and started a new cycle of chemotherapy every week.

Summer had given way to autumn, and within a week, my hair became like leaves on the trees (and like leaves, once the winter of the disease had passed, it would grow back). I wore a scarf on my head, not to hide my baldness, which is impressive on women, but to protect me from the cold.

And I didn’t care about the aesthetic aspect. For some time now, I have had other things to consider: how to make my small pension suffice for my son and me. Unlike the other one, I tolerated this new cycle well. It gave good results: by the time it was completed in February 2001, the tumour had shrunk by 1 centimetre.

At this point, the doctors decided to intervene surgically.

However, the issue of metastasis to the skeleton remained unresolved: was it there, or wasn’t it? From the scintigraphy and magnetic resonance imaging before the treatment, it was believed so. From those taken during and after the treatment, it seemed not. Only time could provide the answer from further LC Tumour Checkups. It would, therefore, have been a blind intervention. I was torn whether to have surgery or not. Added to the loneliness and sadness was fear more than of the surgery itself.

The future that had never been so uncertain.

The thought that, if I hadn’t made it, my son would be left alone with all his serious health problems gave me no peace. I let myself be convinced by the doctors. I was operated on April 19. The operation was completely successful. They removed part of my right lung. To do that, they had to spread my ribs apart.

To close, 34 stitches were needed under the breast.

Even today, I don’t feel anything in that area; the level of sensitivity is practically “zero”. What about metastases? It was a bilateral deforming arthrosis of the two hips, neglected for years.

The following clinical NSE exams have decreased until they are held annually. However, I am always afraid of a recurrence: the data you read in the newspapers does not allow you to sleep peacefully. According to others, I have regained a pleasant, friendly, outgoing character. And I have no problem discussing my experience as a hostage of the “Big Killer”. If it helps…

But honestly, I feel like I’m not as cheerful as I used to be.

To suffer like this, I don’t know who would be able to do it. My great fear is dying. I know: sooner or later, it happens to everyone, and at 76, you should start getting used to the idea. The fact is that my son and my daughter-in-law (who receive a paltry and offensive benefit due to his condition) are disabled. Me more than them: 100%. Diabetes requires me to have four insulins a day; I take anti-inflammatories for osteoarthritis and tablets for hypertension.

Yet, as much as I can, I still do the housework.

I can’t help but wonder what I ever did wrong to deserve it when I got the results. After widowhood, eviction and the consequent temporary placement in an unhealthy and cold house (if I went back in time, I would end up talking about my poor mother, who died without having ever recovered from the torture and violence of Nazi fascists who wanted to know where my brother, a partisan, was hiding…).

Nonetheless, I am here,

I want to express all my gratitude to the medical nursing team of the hospital. Doctor Mari, the surgeon, Doctor Rto, the family doctor Fran Arm, and the home assistants who took care of the household chores during my hospital stays. And a taxi driver, Mrs Forn, shuttled between my house and the hospital during chemotherapy.