Last modified: Friday, March 14, 2008 11:04 PM EDT BROWN: Learning to truly live despite cancer Despite an imperfect PET scan last December, there are three reasons why I'm not too worried about the current state of my health. First, the tumor markers in my blood have remained low; second, I feel incredibly healthy; and, finally, a recent Chinese fortune cookie declared, "Good health will be yours for a long time" (punctuated with a smiley face). Continuing my history from last column: What was worse than my initial diagnosis of advanced breast cancer was the recurrence; it practically destroyed me - not physically, but emotionally. I was at my lowest of lows, seldom bothering to keep up the appearance of positive attitude for the sake of others. Alternative course of action By April 2006, the Tamoxifen was no longer keeping my cancer in check because the tumor markers in my blood had risen and a CAT scan revealed that small tumors had reappeared on my liver. I was devastated as it had only been two years since my last chemotherapy treatment - I was not ready to go through that again! Fortunately, my wonderful oncologist Dr. J suggested an alternative course of action. Immediately, my prescription was changed from Tamoxifen to the newer drug, Femara. I also began monthly infusions of Zometa, prescribed to reduce bone damage since there was now the increased likelihood of repeat bone tumors. Ablation And in May 2006, a renowned surgeon, Dr. D, performed a radio-frequency ablation. Consulting the nifty pamphlet I received, I can define this process as "a needle electrode delivers energy to the tumor, thereby destroying it with heat." Similar to microwaving food, he zapped the spot on my liver. Although I was given a sedative and pain medication, apparently I was in great pain during the procedure. Pumping me with additional pain medicine caused my blood pressure to drop, so they were only able to ablate one of the tumors before being forced to halt the operation, and then I was so groggy that I had to remain in recovery much longer than expected. But even with all the drama of the day - including my usually unflappable husband becoming so flustered by the chain of events that he set food in our microwave on fire that evening, which was amusingly ironic, albeit momentarily scary- the larger tumor on my liver was successfully ablated, completely destroyed. This was good news, though my mood was anything but good. For a few months during that period, I was either depressed or disgusted, even devoid of feeling at times. Stuck in a funk, I think consequently from pain killers I went from popping to abruptly stopping, from once again visiting the "chemo room" for the Zometa treatments, and from the realization that my disease would be an ongoing one. Somehow, I emerged from that desperate time vowing to be wiser in my fight - proactive as The Sun Chronicle so aptly described after interviewing me last summer. For a year, the Femara kept the status quo, then Dr. J decided it was time to get rid of the remaining small tumor on my liver. In September 2007, I had my second ablation, this time under general anesthesia. Thankfully, although completely nauseated for several hours after, I was in much less pain than the first time. Now I have graduated from CAT scans to PET scans, meaning I get injected with radioactive material for an enhanced view of cell activity. Reviewing December's follow-up PET scan, both Dr. J and I had hoped to pronounce me cancer-free, victorious. However, the second tumor had been too close to my colon for Dr. D to completely ablate, for fear of damaging my colon in the process, so a small portion of the tumor remains in my liver. More unsettling, the PET scan also showed a suspicious area on my stomach that previously was not there. Not what we had anticipated. But, like I said before, I'm not too concerned because my bloodwork was good and I feel terrific. You see, the reverse of my hypochondria column is also true: when feeling healthy, I don't worry as much about my cancer, convinced I'll be fine in spite of new developments. At that doctor visit last December, we decided on another PET scan in three months, which I recently underwent, to reassess the status of my liver and stomach, and those results together with additional tumor marker bloodwork would present us with some new decisions to be made. I haven't had my next doctor appointment yet - I have no idea what the news will be - but life is good! I just enjoyed an exciting weekend watching my daughter perform with the Southeast District Junior Concert Band and my son play in the 6th grade Metrowest championship basketball game. I am determined to remain optimistic, focused on living my life. LORI BROWN is chronicling her life after a breast cancer diagnosis. She lives in North Attleboro. E-mail her at brown11861@yahoo.com.