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Jenguin’s Journey – Facing a Different Front: Winning the First Battle & Defeating the Enemy

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Written by Jenny Williams (aka ‘Jenguin’) – Head for the Cure Ambassador

2020 has quickly become a year we will never forget. Months of quarantine have left us eager to get outside, and we fondly remember large gatherings from previous years. In the brain tumor community, it’s been a little disappointing that our usual events and 5Ks have turned virtual this year. I’ve been involved with the Head for the Cure Chicago 5K since 2015, which has directly benefitted my medical center and doctor every year since.

And in June of last year, I decided to travel over five hours to meet up with my siblings in St. Louis. We walked the 5K there to honor our dad who passed away from the same type of tumor that I’m currently fighting. It was a spectacular day despite the rain, and I have a feeling it will continue to be a tradition for me and my sisters.

It seemed only fitting that on the one-year mark of that day, I would have a follow-up MRI. Wearing the gray survivor shirt from that race and a cheery penguin mask, I bravely headed into the hospital, forced to leave my boyfriend behind at the entrance. It had been two months since I started a new course of chemotherapy, and I tried to imagine the damage it dealt to the tumor in my head as I navigated my way downstairs to the highly magnetic area marked with warning signs and into the noisy MRI machine.

Afterwards, we headed home to prepare for a video visit with my doctor to find out the results. Although she was starting to see patients in person again, I was not one of them. I was considered high risk, with depleted blood counts from the previous week to prove it. We kept our fingers crossed until the doctor appeared on my computer screen with the news we were waiting for. Comparing before and after pictures of my brain over video, we saw that the tumor was clearly wounded from this first battle. This meant the only thing standing in between me and another round of chemo was a low neutrophil (white blood cell) count, which I was having re-checked in my weekly counts the following day.

A couple vials of blood and a phone call revealed that my neutrophils were better than ever—doubling in a matter of seven days. I knew this was excellent news, but it also meant it was time for another round of cancer-killing toxins. I can’t say I’m looking forward to receiving this ammunition in the mail (and in my body), but I am looking forward to delivering another fatal eight-week blow to the unwelcome enemy in my head.

Jenguin’s Journey – Facing a Different Front: Eating for Battle

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Written by Jenny Williams (aka ‘Jenguin’) – Head for the Cure Ambassador

For us brain cancer patients, it’s enough to be told to start chemotherapy to combat a growing tumor. But on top of it all, while in treatment, I’m forced to change my diet because of one of the chemo drugs. Since I’ve done this treatment before, I’ve already done my homework.

Procarbazine, the P in PCV chemotherapy, is what’s called a MAOI, or monoamine oxidase inhibitor. These types of drugs hinder the ability of a couple enzymes that help us break down an amino acid called tyramine. And if this amino acid builds up too much in our bodies, it can raise blood pressure dangerously high, which could lead to stroke. I have enough going on in my brain as it is, so if I have to say goodbye to eating some of my favorite foods for the time being, so be it.

Since being diagnosed, I’ve tried a few different meal plans. Initially, I cut out meat, then slowly introduced it back in, trying to limit red meat. Later on, I discovered juicing and all the benefits of flooding my system with the nutrients it brings. It’s like giving ammo to my little immune warriors to deliver a fatal blow to the tumor.

I started dating my boyfriend five years ago, when I first did PCV. My restricted diet made our dates at restaurants fairly interesting. My options were limited, and it seemed everything I felt like eating had one of these tyramine-rich ingredients in it:

  • Soy sauce (teriyaki sauce included)
  • Aged cheeses (including cheddar, swiss, provolone)
  • Fermented foods (especially miso, tofu and pretty much any Korean cuisine)

Not to mention the fact that my boyfriend is Korean, and we both enjoy Asian cuisine. The weekend before I started Procarbazine this year, we went on a culinary splurge. Saturday’s dinner was from our favorite ramen restaurant, and Sunday’s was soondubu, a delicious spicy tofu soup from Korea. Thankfully these foods were available for takeout during the pandemic.

Until these diet restrictions are lifted for the next year (or longer), I can still enjoy some other favorites. As a Chicagoan, I love my hometown deep dish pizza, which thankfully uses mozzarella (a fresh cheese). There’s also crab legs for special occasions, and as a special treat, I’m allowed my ultimate vice: ice cream (and frozen custard).

When telling some of my friends about my diet restrictions, they tell me they could not bear to give up some of those things, especially wine and beer, which I have been known to enjoy a glass on very special occasions. But for me, the temporary limitations are worth not risking a stroke, and definitely worth winning this ongoing battle with cancer.

Jenguin’s Journey – Facing a Different Front: Dodging Side Effects During Battle

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Written by Jenny Williams (aka ‘Jenguin’) – Head for the Cure Ambassador

Watching TV, you’re bound to see one of those commercials for a pharmaceutical drug where they list out the side effects, and somewhere in that fast blurb of side effects, you might overhear the words “…which is serious and may result in death.” You might think, “Why would anyone take that medication?!” I think about that sometimes. I’m taking a couple of drugs that come with some pretty awful side effects, but sometimes it’s worth it when the disease you’re dealing with could take your life.

Jenny’s Side Effects

I’ve been tired. I’ve been queasy. I now take an anti-nausea medication to help me cope with the queasiness, but that comes with its own side effects that I have to manage with over-the-counter laxatives, which also might have some side effects. It seems to be a never-ending loop of ailments, and that in itself is exhausting.

This week, I received an antacid to help with some reflux I had been experiencing. After my first dose and some dinner, I felt hot and incredibly itchy. Looking down at my legs, I noticed some red blotches. My entire body had turned into a minefield of hot spots, tempting me to itch them. It soon became clear that I was having an allergic reaction, and the thought of going to the emergency room during a pandemic drove me into a state of panic.

I did whatever I could to keep the explosive itching at bay while staying home. The next day was filled with around-the-clock Benadryl, phone calls with nurses and rest. 48 hours after it all began, I was itch-free and glad to have dodged a visit to the ER.

Next Blood Check

Life as usual continued with my weekly blood check at the local somewhat-empty hospital. I recounted my itchy experience with the oncologist over the phone when he called me with my lab test results. Despite my unfortunate reaction to the antacid, my blood counts remained stable. A bit on the low end, but nothing to warrant any action. I happily took this small victory in what seems to be a long battle.

Jenguin’s Journey – Facing a Different Front: No Good Time for Treatment

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Written by Jenny Williams (aka ‘Jenguin’) – Head for the Cure Ambassador

No time is a good time for cancer treatment. Brain cancer interrupted my twenties with surgeries, chemotherapy and radiation therapy. When I was told I needed to start another course of chemotherapy nearly two months ago, I thought the timing couldn’t be any worse, with the world turned upside down from COVID-19 pandemic. But the more I thought about it, there are certainly some positives to doing chemo during this time:

  1. Work: My entire department has been working remotely from their homes, reducing my physical contact with other people. When I had to do treatment in the past, I needed to limit my exposure to others, which made collaboration difficult. Now, meetings conveniently happen over video conferencing.
  2. Face Coverings: I can wear a mask in public without a thousand stares for it because everyone else is wearing one too. And the designs I’ve seen are kind of nifty. Welcome to the world of cancer patients, everyone.
  3. Hospitals: At least the ones by me are fairly empty. No more waiting in a crowded waiting room. Of course, that means that most the time I’m alone, but let’s not focus on that.

I finished putting on my mask before exiting the car as my boyfriend dropped me off at the front entrance of our local hospital. The hand-written sign thanking healthcare workers brought a smile to my face. It was early on a Wednesday morning, which was the day designated for checking my blood counts. I proceeded through the checkpoint inside and into the quiet, somewhat desolate waiting room beyond.

“Hi Jennifer!” the lab technician chirped, before even looking down at the order. She already knew me and why I was there. The benefits of being a weekly regular. She quickly and painlessly extracted a vial of liquid from my left arm and compared the label to my wristband, all while exchanging some nice conversation, mostly about my cute dog at home.

Later that day, I received a call from the nurse with the results. There had been some causalities of war this week. Bystander blood cells destroyed in the wake of the destructive chemotherapy. I like to imagine the chemo as little elite warriors, tearing through my system to kill those wild, unwanted cancer cells. And I feel it too. My insides ache, but my fighting spirit still carries on.

Jenguin’s Journey – Facing a Different Front: Round 1

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Written by Jenny Williams (aka ‘Jenguin’) – Head for the Cure Ambassador

Change of Plans

In the brain tumor community, we “Go Gray in May” for Brain Tumor Awareness Month. I personally like the hashtag #GrayMatters, because I love the play on words.

This year, I was prepared to kick off this important month with a trip to Capitol Hill, where I was joining a bunch of fellow “thrivers” to advocate for more funding to the awesome researchers working on a cure for this disease. Unfortunately, COVID-19 foiled these plans, and the event was turned into a virtual one. Forced to stay home and send an email instead, I knew it just wouldn’t have the same impact as a meeting in-person with my members of Congress. As disappointing as this was, it turned out for the better as I headed into treatment.

Education Day

The clock was ticking, and Day 1 of my first chemotherapy cycle was quickly approaching. Beforehand, I headed back to the hospital to get my blood drawn and meet with the nurse. My boyfriend was not allowed in the building with me this time, so he dropped me off and I proceeded through the automatic doors of the cancer center. Getting used to the drill, I lifted my hat as I approached the temporary table in front, so the women behind it could scan my forehead and ask me a few questions before handing me a card with the word “APPROVED” and my temperature handwritten on it.

After a quick blood draw in the lab, I went upstairs where the waiting room had tape over some of the chairs to prevent people from sitting too close to one another. Thankfully, it wasn’t long until the nurse led me to a room where she would educate me on my treatment. I received a folder full of information on the chemo drugs and a calendar outlining my next couple months of pills, lab tests, and remote doctor visits.

Beginning Treatment

I’ve done these drugs before. It’s a well-established chemotherapy for brain cancer, a cocktail of three drugs called PCV: Procarbazine, CCNU and Vincristine. The first two are capsule form, and the third is given over IV. Last time, Vincristine gave me peripheral neuropathy, so I stopped it and continued on the other two (PC). This time, I’m foregoing the third entirely, and sticking to the first two (which is enough).

I went home to await the delivery of these two tumor-killing toxins. Bringing the packages inside reminded me of Snow White accepting her poison apple. Cycle 1 started with my first dose of CCNU, otherwise known as Lomustine. It’s an agent so strong that I have to wait 8 weeks between doses, with constant monitoring of my blood levels.

One week later, and it was Day 8 of my first cycle. I started the day off with some labs at my local hospital. A quick call from my oncologist told me everything was normal, and I finished the night with my first dose of Procarbazine, which I reluctantly take every night for 14 days.

It’s the beginning of a long journey, during a very unique time in history. I’m actually glad they are requiring face coverings in public now; it allows me to fit in with my own protective gear.