An Update on Elisa's Cancer

 

In last Sunday’s posting, I shared with you what is happening with Elisa, the young woman who has become a daughter/grand-daughter to me in the past seven years. Thank you for the comments you left. I’ve shared them with her.

 

Now I want to update the information I gave you last Sunday. 

 

The biopsy, which was done on Tuesday, revealed that she has stage four melanoma in the tumors on her spine and in her gall bladder and lungs. The tumor in her brain is not, the doctors said, cancerous as “yet.” 

 

Those who are in stage four melanoma have a 1 in 6 chance of living possibly five more years. 

 

There are two types of this melanoma. Being in type #1 can help a person live for those additional years. That’s because with type #1, there is a therapy medication that strengthens the immune system. 

 

There’s no medication or therapy to keep those with type #2 of stage four melanoma from dying early.

 

Elisa does not know yet, which type of stage 4 melanoma she has. 

 

FYI: I know little about cancer. So, I may not have heard correctly what Elisa told me. Moreover, I may not understand the implications. If I’ve said something here that you know is medically incorrect, please let me know.

 

This morning, Elisa called to tell me that her insurance company will not cover the medication that the doctors/surgeons at Huntsman Cancer Institute have had her on. Instead, last night she was administered a new medication. The side effects for her have been as follows: only one hour of sleep; hallucinations; constant itching. 

 

Clearly, Elisa is allergic to this new medication. The nurse practitioner is now trying to work with the insurance company to find a non-allergic medication it will cover. For now, Elisa has to stay on the one that’s giving her so many stressful side-effects.

 

Last year, two of my dearest friends died: Bob Kraske and Pat Lassonde. At the time, I blogged about how each had touched my life with goodness. In the past ten years of my life, 10 friends have died and 3 close relatives. So, the reality of aging is the narrowing down of those who have enriched our life with laughter and love.

 

This morning, lying in the doze before waking, I thought that I’ve always wanted to live to be 102. That would mean that I have 18 years left. And I thought, “If only I could give those 18 years to Eliza. In the beat of my heart, the blink of my eye, the throb of my love, I would do so.”

 

But I can’t because I’m not in control. Accepting that is truly a part of becoming fully human. So, once again, I come to you and ask for your healing thoughts. Prayers. Energy. Visualizations. 

 

At the deep center of Elisa's being, where she is most truly herself, dwells a wellspring of joy. I hope that joy will continue to enfold and imbue others. I hope Elisa will have five more years to enjoy being with Mike, her children, her extended family, and her multitude of friends. That is what I hope. 

 

But whatever happens, I find myself filled with a deep and abiding gratitude for the gift of her presence in my life. That she chose me as a mentor, then a friend, then a grandmother is a mysterious wonder. We simply never know where life will take us and who we will meet on the journey. I’ve met Elisa. 

 

Please do continue to hold Elisa up into the light of your own belief. Thank you. Peace.