Happy new year! I’ve tried to write this final update a hundred times, but haven’t been able to do it without plans, children, or other general interruptions getting in the way of me putting sensical words together. It finally dawned on me that my tardiness is a good sign. I am back in my “normal” routines and roles which equates to very limited time for self care and reflection. [...]

I’ve been feeling super down lately after stupidly signing up for a mentor program through the hospital. I was matched with a young gal who was very proud to share her Hogkins journey with me. Her experience is what I would call the worst case scenario in terms of treatment. But she is alive and several years removed from cancer and proud to share her story. So I listened in fear as this girl innocently planted scary ideas in my head. Maybe not the greatest mentor match. And then the news this week about Paul Allen really bummed me out. Cancer doesn’t discriminate. I was caught moping on the sidewalk in front of our house, bottling up all these fears in my mind when a friend stopped me and said “comparison is the thief of joy.” -Sheila G. Or some president. Doesn’t matter. In that moment, truer words couldn’t have been spoken. When I start to compare myself to other people’s stories, all of my inner strength, positive thinking and hopes are all squashed. I need to stay focused on what I have fought so hard for and remember my hopes for the future. I am the strongest I have ever been or even thought was possible. [...]

I rocked treatment #5 and yesterday #6. The week of my fifth treatment, the Providence Cancer Center had just opened a brand new eleventh floor dedicated to infusions and treatment and it is beautiful! I am so happy to be treated in such a clean and state of the art facility. Aesthetics make a world of difference for my well being, especially in a place where I spend so much time filled with stress and worry. My days are long there, typically 6-8 hours. [...]

Today I completed my fourth round of treatment. Again, the two weeks between treatments have been uneventful and manageable and for the most part allowed me to maintain my fairly normal daily life. I was anxious because I had heard that round three (and four and five) are often the hardest. But for the most part the side effects were the same as I’d experienced during my previous treatments and then I had the best two week recovery yet. A good reminder that each cancer journey is different and my story will be no exception.[...]

I did not anticipate such a successful first two weeks of treatment. On the eve before my first round, a neighbor who works as an oncology nurse at the cancer center I did not choose, came over with a detailed handwritten note (and lemon bars) highlighting all the important details about chemo to help me feel confident going in to my first experience. I had met the woman once by happenstance, standing in line for ramen at a food cart, and now I have every phone number that she could ever be reached at and gave me permission to call 24/7. How cool is that?! After chatting with her in my backyard, I felt like I could conquer anything. And she was right, my first two weeks of treatment went really well. For the first week after my first chemo infusion, my main side effect observations (I didn’t complain) were shakey jittery body, general aches in my legs and body (felt like growing pains), lightheaded dizziness, feeling shivery and cold (no fever) in our house but our ac is blasting so?, constipation- TMI? I can give you a recipe that swings that pendulum in the other direction... it’s a slippery slope. The positive side effect observations were an unexpected surprise and impacted me more than any of the expected negative side effects. The doctors all mentioned how much better I would feel after starting chemo and I just thought that sounded crazy because of the toxicity and descriptions of terrible side effects. How could it make me feel better?! But right away I noticed the swelling in my neck is gone, I can turn my head side to side, and best of all I am able to swallow and eat again. And boy have I been eating! Gluttony, how I have missed you. The nurses were happy to see I put on a pound yesterday. Basically for the first week, I gave myself permission to nap when I felt like it, step away from trying to be present in every second with the kids, and allowed myself to sit while watching all the daily tasks fall on willing Kaveh and my Mom (and several thoughtful friends!) I was able to go for walks and get outside a lot and that really helped keep my mental state clear and body strong. My brother and his family came and stayed the weekend with us in our home and it felt awesome to be able to do that. And let’s talk about science. Thank god for the nerds who’ve discovered all the advances in medicine!! I took anti nausea pills for the first four days as regimented by the pharmacist and didn’t have to dip into my three “as needed” anti nausea prescriptions at any point over the course of two weeks. For the second week I felt more like myself, although I’m forgetting what it feels like to actually be “normal.” We spontaneously took a road trip down to visit my dad in Sacramento. It was so nice to get away and do normal life things. It was comforting for me to have my friends and family in California be able to see firsthand how strong (and healthy?) I still am. Dad, I got this, stop worrying. [...]

When Kasra was born a red head we racked our brains trying to figure out where in the heck our ginger baby came from until strangers started claiming “well you have reddish hair, he looks just like you.” It took a couple of years to accept it, but I finally realized I did have reddish hair, just like my baby. And it was beautiful. [...]

Upon pulling in to the Providence cancer center parking garage, late of course, I immediately felt my nerves start to get the best of me. It’s really easy to put on a brave face, and speak positive words, but actually believing them is different. When faced with a diagnosis there are so many unknowns and fears and worries about the what if’s. I started to cry while checking in with the receptionist and gave my name and which doctor I was there to see in some sort of incomprehensible whisper sob. The receptionist commented “day one?” to which he confidently clarified that I am one day closer to being cured. He so warmly assured me that I am in the best medical hands and shared with me that his mother receives infusions for cancer in that same treatment room. I tried to look away but caught a glimpse of the infusion room through an open threshold just beyond his right shoulder. The tears persisted and were now giant crocodile tears, so weighted and full that they missed any chance to roll off my cheeks and fell directly from my eyes down to my toes. I was crying because yes, I was scared, but also because of the empathy from this man who I’d never met before. What I’ve learned so far is it doesn’t really matter what you say to someone faced with a hard fight, as long as it’s positive and provides love and strength, the person is going to feel it and maybe actually believe it. There’s nothing you can say to take away the disease but there is a lot you can say that will add to their fight. [...]

This week was full of appointments to wrap up loose ends before starting treatment next week. On Monday, I got my POWER PORT™️! This will allow blood draws and chemo to be given through an IV with less risk of infection and in effort to keep my veins intact. It was déjà vu checking into the day surgery unit at the hospital. I had just been there (literally same room) a month earlier, for my biopsy. I had less nerves this time as I sort of knew what to expect in terms of anesthesia. I was given a different sedative this time and upon waking, had a throwback to fun drunk Janene circa 2001. That was a little unexpected. Luckily that quickly wore off and we were able to go home. The site is sore, but manageable without meds and is healing nicely. [...]

I realize it’s cliché, but I never ever, ever thought cancer would happen to me. Maybe it’s part magical thinking, part optimism bias, but cancer was suppose to touch only the lives of people I know, not my own. Right? Wrong. [...]

Welcome to the Janene Pakseresht support family! This site is for family and friends, old and new, to organize our efforts to support this extraordinary person. This page will serve as your home base for rallying the troops, receiving updates to support Janene Pakseresht. Here's the plan:[...]