My Next Steps

Thriving during adversity

Chemo Treatment – Day 1 (5/13/2025) August 10, 2026

Filed under: First Things First — cstatenclark @ 9:39 am
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We arrived that Tuesday with multiple bags in tow, looking like we were moving into the oncologist’s treatment room. A big, shiny, pink bag held:

  • Fuzzy blanket gifted to me by Team Carol (College Station girlfriends and my frontline prayer warriors)
  • Pashmina, in case I needed a shawl to keep warm. Although it was summertime, the treatment room was cold!
  • Blank notebook and pen (to take notes on my experience, note tips for future sessions)
  • Laptop, charger block, headphones in case I was inclined to get online during the 3-4 hour treatment
  • Miscellaneous small bag (containing lip balm, healing oil, xylitol gum, reading glasses, hair tie)
  • Metal glass filled with lemon water

And then a small cooler containing:

  • Snacks (ham, boiled eggs, peanut butter and spoon)
  • Ice gloves and socks and hat (more on that later)
  • Frozen pads to keep ice gloves, socks, hat cold
  • Refill for my filtered water from home

First stop was drawing blood and running labs for the week – using my newly installed port for the first time! The port made this process (repeated weekly) very fast, painless, and easy on my vascular system. After that, we waited for lab results and then to see the medical oncologist prior to first treatment. He had no concerns with my bloodwork and so we were ready to get this party started.

Once I settled into one of the eight comfy recliners, the nurse tech measured my blood pressure and offered a warm blanket. The blanket was a sweet offer, but I opted for my fuzzy, plush blanket with “Team Carol” embroidered on it in pink. Next, NP injected an antihistamine and antacid into my port (to lessened potential side effects), then a steroid (dexamethosone, to also stave off allergic reactions and potential nausea). Next up was connecting the Herceptin immunotherapy for 90 minutes of slow drip, followed by another 90 minutes of Taxol (chemo) slow drip. In total, we were there from 9am to about 2pm. The nurses estimated that future weekly treatments wouldn’t take 5 hours due to no doctor visit and slightly faster drip.

My active imagination kept me on high alert the next 24 hours as I kept waiting for the other “shoe to drop” all day and into the night. But, praise God, no adverse side effects came. My appetite was normal and energy was surprisingly robust. Same the next day. The only noticeable change was that my arthritic ankles (due to a history of 5 surgeries) seemed to hurt LESS. Hmmm. Could it be the steroids they shot into me?

 

The Day Before Treatment Begins – Nervous Energy (5/12/2025) July 30, 2026

Filed under: First Things First — cstatenclark @ 3:48 pm
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After much research about fasting and how it enhances chemo effectiveness, my husband and I chose to make it part of our weekly routine. The day before each chemo session, we would water fast for a day (which technically turned into a 34 hour fast each week).

My loving husband joined me in this weekly fast — in tangible support of this health trek. It honestly helped me managed through a few hunger pangs to have someone in the house also making the same choices (to not eat). Each week the fast became easier and oddly welcomed as we experienced a unexpected residual energy from fasting. And when the hunger was almost unbearable, we found drinking carbonated water took the edge off of the pangs.

In an attempt to control part of this expedition, I packed a chemo bag to bring with me each week to treatment. It included luxurious fuzzy blanket (the treatment room was always cold), hand lotion, lip balm, tumbler of water with lemon, book, earbuds (in case I wanted to listen to something on my cellphone), ice gloves/ice socks/ice cap (see next post), chewing gum, and a small bag of Ketogenic snacks (usually ham slices, cheese, strawberries). I was warned I’d be there for 4+ hours.

As for nervous energy, I did small projects around the house to keep myself busy. I could tell that my husband was also burning nervous energy since he rebuilt a paint sprayer motor three times in one day.  They all warned of nausea, but I knew that rarely experienced upset stomach (my entire life). But still, I froze ginger and lemon ice cubes just in case I need quick ginger tea to calm nausea. I picked out my comfy clothes that I’d wear for the long oncologist visit. I read and re-read bible verses throughout the day that friends had sent to me. I even shampooed my hair knowing that it may or may not fall out in weeks to come.

 

Taking rest (5/10/2025)

Filed under: First Things First — cstatenclark @ 3:15 pm

I had to learn to “practice” resting. In adulthood, I have rarely napped. Even when my body felt like taking daytime rest, my brain chose otherwise. And when I gave into temptation to sleep during the day, it never was the refreshing 30 minute variety of sleep. A nap would turn into 4 hours of afternoon sleep, which in turn, ruined my sleep pattern for the rest of the day/evening.

That was my normal pattern, but this odyssey is anything but normal. Three days ago (5/7), I had surgery for the second time in a month (lumpectomy followed by port installation). My body was tired of being anesthetized plus having to heal wounds…and it let me know.

This day, after managing a few errands plus a smattering of house-cleaning, my physical shell surrendered. Early afternoon all I could do was recline, watch Netflix shows I’ve seen a dozen times, slip into dreamland, wake up briefly, then repeated. I finally stood upright enough to scroung a late supper from leftovers, then the day was finished.

That was my major accomplishment for Friday! My mind finally gave my body permission to rest and renew.  I was pleased that the daytime rest didn’t interfere with my normal nighttime slumber — I awoke refreshed the next day.

 

Port Installation (5/7/2025)

Filed under: First Things First — cstatenclark @ 1:07 pm

This picture says it all. The surgery to insert a port inside my left shoulder, under my left collarbone took only about 30 minutes. Of course the drive into Austin and preparation for surgery and waking up from surgery took much more time. The added bonus that doesn’t show in the attached diagram, is that my port tubing extended into my left jugular vein, too.

How strange that something this invasive didn’t hurt afterwards, other than the spot on my jugular. Perhaps that discomfort was because my neck bends there. I’m glad to have extra, soft pillows around my head and neck for sleeping. Amazingly, I found that sleeping on that side wasn’t too uncomfortable. Several friends who’ve had ports installed found side sleeping impossible.

I’m thankful for making the decision to have this installed for ease of drawing blood weekly and infusing chemo and immunotherapy for the next 12 months. I’m not sure my arm veins would have survived.

 

Radiation Consultation (4/29/2025) July 22, 2026

Filed under: First Things First — cstatenclark @ 3:37 pm
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Although my chemotherapy treatments were scheduled to occur first, followed by radiation sessions, You often discuss radiation options with the radiation oncologist early. He attempted to postpone our meeting until all chemo treatments were finished, yet we wanted to hear his perspective on treatment protocol. That way we could mull and study the proposal and prepare more questions before radiation started. The doctor compromised by conducting a telehealth session with us to share his thoughts base on my pathology, surgery, and other tests.

His suggested plan included 6 weeks of daily Monday-Friday targeted radiation of my right breast and armpit. They would be short sessions (5 minutes long), with most of my time spent in a car getting to their location from our house. It would be a long drive (one hour each way) for a few minutes of treatment. Every day – Monday through Friday. I’m glad I drive a hybrid that gets 30+ MPG. At least the treatment itself was not supposed to be painful, with burning sensation showing up in the last few weeks.

We asked why BOTH chemo and radiation are necessary. The radiation oncologist explained that chemo targets the entire body through the bloodstream whereas radiation targets a specific area, He shared that chemo before radiation would make cancer cells more susceptible to radiation damage. Plus, radiation would be more effective at controlling and preventing local cancer recurrence when combined with chemotherapy. He also shared that studies have shown that protocols combining chemotherapy and radiation could lead to better survival outcomes for certain types of cancer. Lots of “coulds”, “shoulds”, and other qualifiers in that conversation. Enough to offer spots of hope, while offering no guarantees.

Radiation will be mostly painless and they have creams to lessen the effects of radiation burn that can build up by the final weeks of treatment. And so it continues…Cut – Poison – Burn.

 

Preparing my body for this odyssey – April 2025

Prior to embarking on the next few months of treatments destined to attack my body as well as the cancer they are intended for, I chose to undergo a little maintenance. This way my body will be in the best condition possible for the assault.

  1. Ears – For months my left ear felt like it was clogged or had water trapped inside. A quick inspection by my ENT revealed that I possessed an over-abundance of ear wax. Truth be told, I’ve never in my life had my ears professionally cleaned and the result was amazing. I could hear out of that side of my head again.
  2. Teeth – It was time for my every 6 month teeth cleaning. I typically have strong, healthy teeth so I didn’t expect any issues. My reliable teeth came through and I received a virtual gold star for dental hygiene, enamel, and gums. Additionally, it was good to inform my dentist about my diagnosis and upcoming cancer treatments.
  3. Heart – Part of the oncologist’s protocol included having my heart tested (echocardiogram), to be repeated every 3-4 months to note any changes due to chemo, Herceptin, or radiation. My baseline readings proved normal to the whole medical team.
  4. Nails – Did you know that fingernails and toenails showcase a person’s health? Therefore, in the spirit of transparency, I removed all the gel polish from fingers and toes. That way I could see exactly what was changing (or not) with my health. Since chemo and radiation can also dry nails and cuticles, I started applying oils to avoid cracks and painful cuticles. Castor Oil. Frankincense & Myrrh oil.
  5. Skin – At the beginning of my lifestyle clean-up, I updated dozens of products that I put ON and IN my body. A site called EWG.org helped identify carcinogen-free products (body soap, shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, face cream, makeup, detergents, etc). Just like when we began our Ketogenic eating habits and gave away a sizeable portion of our pantry (rice, wheat, corn, beans, pasta, potatoes, sugar, canola oil), I modified the contents of my bathroom cabinets, shower caddy, makeup drawer, and laundry room. It felt empowering to make these changes.
  6. Hair – Ever since I was 30, I’ve colored my hair to align with my original God-given hair color – honey blond. I don’t know what quirk of nature turned my youthful blond hair to dirty-dishwater-blond as I exited my teens, but my skin-color popped when I went lighter. The week following my diagnosis, I found an ammonia-free, healthier hair dye (NaturTint) that I started using immediately. But since my planned cancer treatments included the possible side-effect of hair loss, I decided not to color my roots for a few months. No reason to stress my hair while it was struggling to survive. If my hair my hair managed to survive in-tact, I could live with grown-out roots.
 

Educating Ourselves About Cancer and Treatments – April 2025 July 15, 2026

Filed under: First Things First — cstatenclark @ 11:32 am
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My husband and I flooded our brains with information. Books, experience from cancer-survivors, YouTube, Google (yes, Google). Daily more cancer books arrived with each Amazon truck pulling into our driveway. It was our way of processing this episode of our life.

We weighed each book against the other. Versus YouTube videos from cancer-focused MD’s and PhD’s. Versus actual results of friends who survived treatment for various cancers. We considered the research sources (reputable, recent, tested, showing a similar pattern of effective results). I found great comfort “interviewing” ladies who specifically had survived breast cancer and gleaning their wisdom.

My brain allowed for differences in cancer type, exact diagnosis, stage, age, how recently they were treated, and other factors that presented a variable. But I also found that there were commonalities amongst all cancers.

  1. It’s rare that doctors know exactly what caused the cancer. Of course you can suspect obvious cancer-causing lifestyle choices like smoking, unhealthy diet, a career touching and breathing known carcinogens; and a small percent with a known genetic disposition. But after that, I felt like a detective digging through trash cans of what-ifs.
    • Was my water not filtered enough?
    • Did the non-stick pans and plastic spatulas leech foreign materials into my food?
    • Did I consume microplastics by cutting on plastic cutting boards and drinking from plastics bottles?
  2. Cells have mutated to rapidly divide and spread. Also, cancer do not die in the same lifecycle as normal cells.
  3. Typical treatment protocol recommends surgery, radiation, and sometimes chemotherapy. And there are many cocktails of chemo drugs (who knew?).
  4. Rarely are diet changes, supplement support, or complementary treatments recommended by the oncologists. Although there are boatloads of examples where those complementary treatments make traditional treatments more effective as well as more easily tolerated by the person with cancer, those complementary treatments are not part of the medical community’s standard of care.  So, doctors shy away from mentioning them. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use all available resources to research and implement complementary treatments.

The variations come from the following:

  1. Where (which organ) cancer is,
  2. how big the mass of cancer cells is,
  3. how aggressive is the growth of those cancer cells,
  4. has it spread (or is it contained to one area),
  5. are there special receptors involved (HER2, estrogen, progesterone, etc)?
  6. Can surgeons operate to remove the mutant cells? Do you want them to operate (and how much)?
  7. How effective is the standard cut-burn-poison protocol for your type cancer (i.e., chance of survival)?

While I fully trusted God to keep my mind, heart, emotions, and soul at peace no matter what future all this brought into my life, He also expects me to use the skills and the brain He’s gifted me with to discern options and a path forward. Next steps, right?

 

One. Step. At. A. Time. – my next steps (4/18/2025) July 12, 2026

Filed under: First Things First — cstatenclark @ 9:35 am

For the breast cancer mass they removed, the margins were more than adequate (she took enough tissue). But for the sentinel node biopsy (dye, track potential path to lymph nodes from mass), the surgeon removed 2 nodes and they found micrometastases.

My next meeting was with the medical oncologist and I suspected he would likely recommend both a HER2 targeted drug + chemotherapy (even before radiation). I reminded myself daily not to get ahead of myself – or ahead of reality. I researched like crazy so I would be prepared for productive discussions. But I had to resist jumping to conclusions.

Meanwhile, my husband and I continued our KETO eating routine, and I took a ton of supplements including iodine and Ivermectin (whether the oncologist wants me to or not). God gently eased me into this new reality which resulted in an extraordinary peace.

Although my husband was a strong pillar for me, I prayed for him to remember that God was holding him up as well. He lost two sisters and a niece to breast cancer in the past 20 years, so no doubt the devil kept throwing that fear dart at him.

 

Breathe. Relax. Trust God. Doubt my fears. (4/13/2025) July 6, 2026

Filed under: First Things First — cstatenclark @ 12:00 pm

Every day is an opportunity to be consumed by anxiety and doubt, especially when the future seemed uncertain. But it was equally a chance to have faith and trust God with the outcome. Both doubt and faith require believing in something you can’t see. My fears melted into tears when I heard the following hymn at church.

Encouragement flowed in for months – from friends, family, prayer warriors, calls, cards, flowers, lunches, and check-in texts. I heard uplifting messages from Scriptures, songs, poems, and prayers. If you ever question how to help someone in your life face a mighty interruption in their life, remember that all of these acts of kindness make a difference. You might doubt that something so simple as a note or a call will lend true support, but I assure you they do. You’re providing nourishment for the soul.

“Don’t believe everything you think.” Ann Grady

 

Am I going to die – Part 2? – Post-surgery pathology (4/11/2025)

Filed under: First Things First — cstatenclark @ 11:01 am
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My breast specialist surgeon called on Friday morning, 4/11, a couple of days after a successful lumpectomy. She was all business. The air going into my lungs suddenly felt thick and I managed to swallow the lump in my throat. Although she had estimated pathology results to come a week after surgery, she received them a mere 2 days post-surgery. Good news: the margins were negative for the golfball-sized mass they removed. Negative margins are what we hope for;. It means she removed sufficient flesh to know they got all the cancerous cells. Not-such-good-news: the sentinel node biopsy — dye runs from the mass to see which lymph nodes are fed by the mass. Protocol is to remove those nodes that show the dye. Two of my lymph nodes showed dye from the cancer mass so she removed them during surgery. The concerning part of the pathology showed micrometastases in those two nodes. That means cancer spread. Although they were tiny (micro) cells, cancer had still spread. Still my cancer was rated as stage 1.

The presence of micrometastases influenced the course of my treatments. The surgeon indicated that I likely would receive a bit of everything from the oncology menu, instead of avoiding either chemo or radiation. I went into surgery thinking they’d remove everything, there would be no lymph spread, radiation would be minimal, then on to blocking the HER2 cells. Now the radiation may be more extensive, and chemo a likely part of the plan. And I’m not sure how they discern whether these micrometastases have spread beyond the lymph nodes since a few individual cancer cells aren’t visible on MRI or sonogram. Thankfully, according to pathology, the few cancer cells had reached those two removed lymph nodes, but gone no further.

So much to process. More appointments coming. Breathe. Am I going to die? Not today.

I chose faith. The alternative stinks. Choosing faith is practical as it brings a level of peace as you slog your way forward.