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Help Suzanne Aucoin
Feb. 23, 2006 - The St. Catharines Standard
Wondering, worrying and relief
The Standard (St. Catharines)
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Page: A1 / FRONT
Section: News
Byline: Peter Downs
Source: The Standard
Series: Suzanne's Story
SUZANNE'S STORY
She thought she had beaten it. But in late 2003, Suzanne Aucoin was rediagnosed with
a terminal case of colorectal cancer. The Standard is following Suzanne's fight with
cancer in this continuing series.
Part 4
- - -
The topic never comes up once.
They talk about other things, Suzanne and her parents.
It's about an hour-long drive from the Aucoins' Port Dalhousie home to the cancer
treatment centre in Hamilton.
And as they make the trip on a cold but sunny morning, the conversation flows easily
between Suzanne and her mom and dad.
They talk about cars -- one of her father's favourite subjects. They talk about new
housing developments going up in the city. Rising real estate prices.
They talk a little about Suzanne's schedule for the day. How long she's expected to be
at the hospital. Which medications she'll get during this treatment session.
But they don't talk at all about why they're both with her on this day.
They don't mention the CT scan results Suzanne will get. Or what the results could
mean.
They don't need to bring up their fear. It's there in the words that go unspoken.
Three weeks earlier, one of the routine blood tests Suzanne undergoes came back
with troubling results.
The test showed a protein molecule in her blood -- called a carcinoembryonic antigen,
or CEA for short -- had shot up dramatically since her last test two weeks earlier.
Doctors use CEA levels as an indicator of cancer activity. Often if the CEA count
jumps, it means cancerous cells are spreading. The only way to know for sure is to
have a CT scan.
Suzanne, 35, had her scan last week. The results were ready Tuesday.
Suzanne's parents -- Norm and Janet -- usually don't accompany her for her weekly
treatment sessions at Hamilton's Juravinski Cancer Centre.
But she wants them both there this time. In case there's bad news. In case the CT
scan shows the terminal colon cancer she was diagnosed with in November 2003 has
spread again.
A follow-up blood test last week indicated Suzanne's CEA count had dropped back
close to its usual level. It was an encouraging sign, but the CT scan will be the proof.
And after three weeks of wondering and worrying, Suzanne and her parents have to
wait another half hour after they arrive at the hospital Tuesday morning to learn the
results.
While Suzanne has blood taken for another test, her parents keep hands and minds
occupied in the chemotherapy clinic's waiting room.
Norm cracks a Sudoku puzzle as Janet knits a square panel for an afghan to be used by
patients at the centre.
And still, any thoughts they have about the CT results are kept to themselves.
Minutes before she goes in to see her oncologist, Suzanne acknowledges it's been a
mental and emotional strain waiting to learn what the CT scan has found.
She didn't sleep well the night before. She was restless. But each time she woke up,
she reassured herself that she'll be able to find other medications to keep her cancer
at bay when she has to.
"I've been a little nervous. But I keep telling myself, 'Everything's stable. Things are
going to be all right. You're going to be OK. If it's bad news, don't be crushed.' I've got
options," she says.
Shortly after, Suzanne and her parents wait inside an examination room for her doctor.
As Suzanne reads some of her medical paperwork, her father turns his attention to a
novel and her mother works through a crossword puzzle.
Several minutes go by before the oncologist comes in and says he has the results.
Suzanne and her parents brace themselves. But the doctor is talking about blood test
results, not the CT scan.
An assistant leaves to find the CT results. She returns in a couple of minutes with the
papers in hand and passes them to the oncologist.
He gets directly to the point. The cancer hasn't spread, he explains. Her situation is
stable.
The tension that had filled the silence breaks immediately.
"Oh, thank you," says Suzanne.
Her face flushes with colour as she takes in the news.
"That's good, Suzie," her mother says. She's beaming.
Her father smiles.
And just as quickly as the good news is dispensed, Suzanne and her doctor move on to
other subjects.
There's no theory or explanation provided for what may have caused the sudden CEA
spike in Suzanne's blood test.
Another CT scan is scheduled in two months to keep an eye on the cancerous
growths that migrated from her colon to her liver and lungs.
After the meeting with the oncologist is over and Suzanne prepares for a nearly
four-hour treatment session, her parents are clearly more relaxed.
They had been keeping a positive attitude, but the CT results are a relief.
"You've got to be optimistic," says Norm.
Suzanne also feels some of the pressure she carries has lifted.
Had the CT scan shown new tumour growth, it would have meant her latest line of
medication was no longer working.
After a lengthy battle with provincial health officials and hospital administrators,
Suzanne was recently able to gain access to a new drug -- Erbitux -- that is considered
one of the best options for patients with the most-advanced form of colon cancer.
While the intravenous drug has been approved for use by Health Canada, it is not
funded by OHIP and is available only to a very small number of patients.
Suzanne had been paying $14,000 US per month for treatment with the drug at a clinic
in West Seneca, N.Y., since last October. In December, Health Canada granted her
special access to receive Erbitux on this side of the border.
She became the first person to be treated with the drug at the Hamilton cancer
centre. The drug cost her approximately $6,400 per month -- about a third of the
price she was paying in the US.
Since the CT scan confirmed her cancer has not spread, Suzanne has more time to
research other drugs she can turn to when Erbitux is no longer effective for her.
"I feel like I've got breathing space," she says.
She goes into the room where she'll receive her treatment -- Erbitux and a
chemotherapy drug -- content that she is a step ahead of the cancer inside her.
As the chemicals flow through IV tubes into her body, Suzanne finds the sleep that
eluded her the night before.
pdowns@stcatharinesstandard.ca
Wondering, worrying and relief
The Standard (St. Catharines)
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Page: A1 / FRONT
Section: News
Byline: Peter Downs
Source: The Standard
Series: Suzanne's Story
SUZANNE'S STORY
She thought she had beaten it. But in late 2003, Suzanne Aucoin was rediagnosed with
a terminal case of colorectal cancer. The Standard is following Suzanne's fight with
cancer in this continuing series.
Part 4
- - -
The topic never comes up once.
They talk about other things, Suzanne and her parents.
It's about an hour-long drive from the Aucoins' Port Dalhousie home to the cancer
treatment centre in Hamilton.
And as they make the trip on a cold but sunny morning, the conversation flows easily
between Suzanne and her mom and dad.
They talk about cars -- one of her father's favourite subjects. They talk about new
housing developments going up in the city. Rising real estate prices.
They talk a little about Suzanne's schedule for the day. How long she's expected to be
at the hospital. Which medications she'll get during this treatment session.
But they don't talk at all about why they're both with her on this day.
They don't mention the CT scan results Suzanne will get. Or what the results could
mean.
They don't need to bring up their fear. It's there in the words that go unspoken.
Three weeks earlier, one of the routine blood tests Suzanne undergoes came back
with troubling results.
The test showed a protein molecule in her blood -- called a carcinoembryonic antigen,
or CEA for short -- had shot up dramatically since her last test two weeks earlier.
Doctors use CEA levels as an indicator of cancer activity. Often if the CEA count
jumps, it means cancerous cells are spreading. The only way to know for sure is to
have a CT scan.
Suzanne, 35, had her scan last week. The results were ready Tuesday.
Suzanne's parents -- Norm and Janet -- usually don't accompany her for her weekly
treatment sessions at Hamilton's Juravinski Cancer Centre.
But she wants them both there this time. In case there's bad news. In case the CT
scan shows the terminal colon cancer she was diagnosed with in November 2003 has
spread again.
A follow-up blood test last week indicated Suzanne's CEA count had dropped back
close to its usual level. It was an encouraging sign, but the CT scan will be the proof.
And after three weeks of wondering and worrying, Suzanne and her parents have to
wait another half hour after they arrive at the hospital Tuesday morning to learn the
results.
While Suzanne has blood taken for another test, her parents keep hands and minds
occupied in the chemotherapy clinic's waiting room.
Norm cracks a Sudoku puzzle as Janet knits a square panel for an afghan to be used by
patients at the centre.
And still, any thoughts they have about the CT results are kept to themselves.
Minutes before she goes in to see her oncologist, Suzanne acknowledges it's been a
mental and emotional strain waiting to learn what the CT scan has found.
She didn't sleep well the night before. She was restless. But each time she woke up,
she reassured herself that she'll be able to find other medications to keep her cancer
at bay when she has to.
"I've been a little nervous. But I keep telling myself, 'Everything's stable. Things are
going to be all right. You're going to be OK. If it's bad news, don't be crushed.' I've got
options," she says.
Shortly after, Suzanne and her parents wait inside an examination room for her doctor.
As Suzanne reads some of her medical paperwork, her father turns his attention to a
novel and her mother works through a crossword puzzle.
Several minutes go by before the oncologist comes in and says he has the results.
Suzanne and her parents brace themselves. But the doctor is talking about blood test
results, not the CT scan.
An assistant leaves to find the CT results. She returns in a couple of minutes with the
papers in hand and passes them to the oncologist.
He gets directly to the point. The cancer hasn't spread, he explains. Her situation is
stable.
The tension that had filled the silence breaks immediately.
"Oh, thank you," says Suzanne.
Her face flushes with colour as she takes in the news.
"That's good, Suzie," her mother says. She's beaming.
Her father smiles.
And just as quickly as the good news is dispensed, Suzanne and her doctor move on to
other subjects.
There's no theory or explanation provided for what may have caused the sudden CEA
spike in Suzanne's blood test.
Another CT scan is scheduled in two months to keep an eye on the cancerous
growths that migrated from her colon to her liver and lungs.
After the meeting with the oncologist is over and Suzanne prepares for a nearly
four-hour treatment session, her parents are clearly more relaxed.
They had been keeping a positive attitude, but the CT results are a relief.
"You've got to be optimistic," says Norm.
Suzanne also feels some of the pressure she carries has lifted.
Had the CT scan shown new tumour growth, it would have meant her latest line of
medication was no longer working.
After a lengthy battle with provincial health officials and hospital administrators,
Suzanne was recently able to gain access to a new drug -- Erbitux -- that is considered
one of the best options for patients with the most-advanced form of colon cancer.
While the intravenous drug has been approved for use by Health Canada, it is not
funded by OHIP and is available only to a very small number of patients.
Suzanne had been paying $14,000 US per month for treatment with the drug at a clinic
in West Seneca, N.Y., since last October. In December, Health Canada granted her
special access to receive Erbitux on this side of the border.
She became the first person to be treated with the drug at the Hamilton cancer
centre. The drug cost her approximately $6,400 per month -- about a third of the
price she was paying in the US.
Since the CT scan confirmed her cancer has not spread, Suzanne has more time to
research other drugs she can turn to when Erbitux is no longer effective for her.
"I feel like I've got breathing space," she says.
She goes into the room where she'll receive her treatment -- Erbitux and a
chemotherapy drug -- content that she is a step ahead of the cancer inside her.
As the chemicals flow through IV tubes into her body, Suzanne finds the sleep that
eluded her the night before.
pdowns@stcatharinesstandard.ca