The Day Before Black Friday

Looking back on this last year, I have so many things to be thankful for. I'm thankful for my husband Dan, who has watched a shadow cross over me, and told me I looked beautiful when I know I looked like more like death than death itself.  I'm thankful for my husband who held my hand in the worst of times, standing firm in knowing things would get better, letting me know he would be there for me anytime I needed him. His strength has pulled me through the hard times and makes me realize how lucky I am to have our little family of three, counting Glen our super fabulous parakeet. I know our little threesome family is special and I am very lucky to be alive to be a part of it. They have kept me alive. Most days we watch our Glen going about his beautiful birdness, preening, bending backwards in a way you wouldn't think possible, peeping up and saying his nickname over and over to impress us. He does. I am thankful for my family. I am thankful for Dan's mother who has kept him going and has been his strength in the beginning of this mess.

I am thankful for having such a great and caring Surgeon that has carved and carved away at my cancer making it shrink in fear of his scalpel. I'm thankful for his nurse who is a giving caring person. They have kept me alive.

I am thankful for you, my friends, Tom Lax, Brian Turner, Graham Lambkin, Scott Soriano, Chris Toenes, Travis Cobruh Jackson, Ruben Mendez, Scott Winland, Melissa Lunden, Shawn Slome (and so many others - sorry I'm a bit foggy) for everything they've done.

I am so thankful for the hundreds of friends, and for the people I have just come to know as friends. You all have helped me in so many ways. You have kept my spirit up when I was afraid. You let me know that I had people around me who cared about me. You kept me strong. I can't thank you enough. You have kept me alive.

I want to give thanks to the people that keep finding ways to help. Just know that it all mattered and I love you all very much!

I wasn't going to post an update because I've been very weak due to my pituitary not dealing out the right hormones that I need. I don't go in to see the Endocrinologist until December 14th.
I'll put an update then.

Dan just ran in to tell me that he realized we have a real Thanksgiving going on in our house. He's an Englishman, I'm an Indian, and we have a bird, who is not a turkey, and will not be eaten. And we are all truly thankful!

'I'm alive and well and living here on Living Island living every happy day
Alive and well on Living Island, living here in harmony and hope someday
 I hope someday the whole world will live this way!'

Still my theme song!

Living Island is the most amazing place!

Despicable Me, Looking Back At My Year as Cavity Sam

I must apologize to the readers of this blog (long suffering folks that they are) but I've been having a bit of a hard time, and haven't been able to see the computer screen well enough to write until now. Thank you for your patience.

I thought I'd start you out with a laugh. My pituitary surgery was only an overnight stay at the hospital—everyone who's had surgery knows you get woken up every 2 hours for vital signs—during one of those times I took some drugged-out photos of myself with my phone when I couldn't get back to sleep. The photos are a bit dramatic but I have to show you how much I looked like the cartoon man, Gru, in 'Despicable Me'!

Me

Gru

 You have to admit the likeness is astounding! Don't be scared, it's only the camera angle and my drugged up state that makes me look so horrid.

In an equally drugged state, I took 'Finger ET's' photo. He was my friend for the night, and stayed with me through all my vitals.

It was an easy overnighter, in the terms of my Otolaryngologist (head and neck surgeon) and my Neurologist, the surgery was a success. However, in my own terms, my surgery's success is questionable, and my recovery since September 28th has been a challenge.

As you may remember, I was having incredibly bad headaches from the end of August, until about mid October, which have been attributed to the swelling of my pituitary stem (a side-effect of Yervoy,) as well as a tumor growing inside my pituitary gland. The good news is the tumor was benign. My Yervoy treatment was stopped, the tumor was removed and my headaches have tapered off.  Although I'm thrilled to have had the tumorous peanut plucked, I have been left with a torn retina and tasteless taste buds.  This has infringed largely on my life. Both of the doctors that performed the surgery stand firm in their belief that the torn retina is not in any way related to the surgery, but is a natural occurrence that has happened in accordance with my age. The dissipated everyday tasting abilities of my tongue is a natural part of healing and may or may not come back months from now. As of now I can taste certain foods well, other foods less well and some foods might as well be cardboard. My vision problems on the other hand, to me, are not so coincidental, and seem completely related to the doc’s knocking about inside my nasal cavity. Up and over my optic nerve, and definitely related to sawing a hole through my skull to retract the problem nugget with a tiny metal clamp. To me, it seems very likely that that was the cause of my retinal tear and also the subsequent bane of my life! Horrible floaters which dip in and out—up and down, forever swirling about in, and out of focus, these things infringe on my life on a very different level.  

I noticed them first while signing the hospital’s discharge papers. I was handed a pen, and I literally  swatted at the air and said, “What’s that!?” Then I noticed the rest of the black shapes floating around in front of me. There was a quite large uni-brow—shelf or visor type shadow hovering above my head. These dark shadows are actually blod drops. The retinal tear was fixed by laser surgery three weeks later, but the gigantic dark floaters were left behind. I feel like I'm about to be hit in the head at all times by sharp corners; or that there's a bug on the wall, in my food, in my bed, or climbing up me—It's a dim and horrible personal fireworks show. For those of you who have a hard time picturing this - I have found on the internet a likeness done by somebody with photoshop, as seen below:

These dark spots are constantly swirling around. 

This in conjunction with the cardboard food I've been eating has just pushed me over the brink. And please know, that this has been hard for Dan, who has toiled in the kitchen for hours on end, cooking up the most amazing dishes, trying to get the right food combinations so that I'll be able to taste.  Dan's cooking is outstanding at all times! Before my surgery, I'd push anyone out of my way to get at the table (this includes Glen).  It's no fun cooking for a tasteless sap, you might as well serve up a bowl of dog chow. I wouldn't know much difference. I'm sorry, Rooster!

I have taken up wearing a Dolby/DJ Friendly truckers cap. (David, you know the one.) This, in someway helps the floaters from distracting me too much. It's just right for the field of vision my floaters roam in, and the right color for them to fade into. I'm lucky I got that hat!

Nose normal looking - eyes with floater protection 

On Monday, I have my 'Tell All' PET scan, and I'm really scared to find out what's inside me. I have to ask all of you to please think of me on Monday and send me Lucky Vibes! The scan will tell me if the Yervoy, (and the Interleukin-2) is working, even though I never got through to the last doses of both drugs. If anything new shows up in my scan other that what I already know about—the atypical cells in my breast, and the mass in my sacrum—I'll have to have the surgery done quickly.

My insurance switches over to the state's 'Inclusive' health plan, which is insurance for the un-insurable. I'll have a new higher deductible ($5000) starting December 1st, and it has been suggested to me by an insurance broker to have whatever needs to be done—as soon as possible, before that date. I'm terrified!

Dan is going to try and organize some art sales and do some benefits to try and help out.

I know for a fact that I have breast surgery coming, which means it'll have to be done this month!

I'm coming up on the one year anniversary of my diagnoses. It's unbelievable that it was only November last year that I was told I had cancer. I didn't know I'd be living the life of Cavity Sam! (the man depicted on the operation game board)

I can't quite believe that all the surgery and treatments I've had were all done in one year. I'm just terrified that I'll find out I have more coming. 

Please think of me on Monday, I will be so thankful! I'm so tired of living the life of Cavity Sam.

 

Plight of the Pituitary

The Great Melvin Burkhardt photographed by Joel-Peter Witkin

OK! OK! It's a Pituitary Tumor!

It's getting extracted on Tuesday the 27th! It's upsetting, but it's not the worst thing in the world.  Ninety five percent of the time they are not cancerous and, in my case the Yervoy most likely shook it alive with a little swelling. Which, I have to say in my book is a good thing! What if I never found the stupid peanut? I must say that I'm more than annoyed with the thought of more surgery! This is the first time during this whole cancer thing that I have felt crappy all the time. At least solidly crappy since the beginning of this September.  

The first day I had liquid steroids, instead of Yervoy, I felt like a champ! And the day after...  I was just a streak, almost invisible, running around the house like a Blue Ass Fly. I was out riding a bike, doing projects right and left, cleaning the house. I was unstoppable - till 5:00AM the following morning, when the headache came back. That's it's MO, to strike while I'm sleeping. To shake my brain- with its sharp spiny tendrils, groping around for a spot where it might hurt the most. Arrrgh! I wake up, then get up to take a steroid and an antacid with a bit of food. Then I go back to sleep (it takes a while) and wake up feeling better, usually. The steroid can carry me all the way through the evenings most times - but lately, not.

Great for a brain massage. In my imagination this hand is much thinner and a lot it more spiny!

My oncologist, after discussions with the neurology team, deemed that it was in my body's best interest to continue the Yervoy, and my head-box was going to just have to put up with a few technicalities. I've come this far with the Yervoy and I went in for my third infusion yesterday. I didn't know that the treatment would ratchet up the headaches again. I thought the steroids would keep it all under control.

After a phone consult with my oncologist this morning, on his advice I upped the dose on the steroids. It helped - a lot. But somehow today I just feel a bit gloomy. I'm finding it hard to pick up the paint brush, or work on a really great piece of Tretetam soundscape. I'm not really too worried - I have faith that things are working out, and I just want to get on with feeling like something isn't finger flicking my poor ol' Pituitary Gland like a mini punching bag. The poor dangler!

I also just want to say how important it is for me to have Dan continue on with our NY plans. Thank god I have this surgery early in the week, which will allow Dan to be with me, and to take care of me - (MY ROOSTER!!!!!!) for  a few recovery days. But you see, I don't want to feel that this thing has control of us! God Damn it, I'm fighting it. And that means not letting it take hold of the things that are important to us. We didn't cancel our May tour - and thank god we didn't! That was very special to me. And though I'm not going to NY this time, I will in the future. For right now, Dan will have to be the one standing up to this stuff. We won't let it get us down! I'm calling it, "Business as Usual!!!"

Tomorrow, headache or not, I'm pushing myself to pick up a paint brush, or  I'll make my weekly two loaves of whole wheat bread. That's with no sugar, packed with flax seeds, buckwheat, oatmeal, and sunflower seeds. It's great, and I make it on Sundays! No exceptions!

One more thing - I just want to let people know that I do have another surgery coming up - just so it doesn't look like things keep coming at me. It'll be another breast excision to remove some atypical cells (not cancerous) from the scar tissue of my right breast. It's also not a big deal - it'll be done in Mid-October.

So right now I'm looking at some cancer-free holiday time, and boy am I thankful!

LOVE TO EVERYONE!!

Pituitary Purgatory

Sometimes you just have to whine, complain, and feel sorry for yourself. Today I'm doing just that!

I went to have a talk with a neurosurgeon in Raleigh this morning. I was so lucky to have them let me drop by, and fit me in to their busy schedule.  Dan and I were ready to wait the whole day - but it was only about 20 minutes before my name was called. The neurosurgeon and his assistant greeted me and Dan, then ushered us into a small conference room. They were both very nice and explained how my Pituitary Gland was abnormal, swollen, and could if it kept swelling cause blindness, among many other problems in the hormonal department. Then there is the scary, tiny fraction of a chance that it could be a tumor. (I'm convinced that it's just a reaction to the Yervoy.)   It's not a bleeding tumor, but I now have to have another MRI. This one concentrating on a small area just behind my eyes, and sinuses; dangling from my brain -  the Pituitary Gland; which will be imaged section by section in slice like fragments to see what the hell is going on with it.

This new MRI and swollen PT is creating problems already. It's preventing me from continuing my Yervoy treatment and now there is a small chance that the insurance won't cover the cost of the MRI. Why, you ask? Because I just had an MRI last week. It's too soon to have an other one billed to the insurance company, so the hospital says. I had a conversation with the imaging person, and she said she'd work on it with the insurance company first thing in the morning.

I'm sure that come 9am tomorrow morning, it will all be straightened out, and Dan and I will drive to Raleigh to be there at 12:00 as scheduled. The neurosurgeon said that if I have the MRI at 12:00,  I would be able to get the results by tomorrow evening or by Wednesday morning.

I may have to halt the Yervoy treatment altogether depending on how all the doctors involved with my case feel about the results of the imaging. I suppose the Yervoy could do irreversible damage to my pituitary gland on one hand - but not doing the Yervoy treatment could do irreversible damage on the other hand. Why can't things just be stabilized, level out and be somewhat normal!? I'm getting tired of this wild ride. I'm really ready for some easy cruising.

Purgatory by Hieronymus Bosch

Ten Day Headache! *#!**@#!!!#!!!!

Today I was supposed to get my third infusion of Yervoy, but instead I got a IV full of steroids. I've been having bad headaches for the last ten days. Not your usual alcohol residual, or 'haven't eaten anything' type of headache. It was very different. It was a steady climb from a low grade - "I can ignore it" type - to a consistent, persistent phantom trying to break my skull open to feast type. Then you sprinkle in a bit of 'Stabby McStabbington' behind the eye sockets every few minutes, while thinking of ice picks, and you have an idea of what it was like. It never ended! I couldn't move my eyes around. It hurt. It hurt to lay my head on my pillow. Laughing, coughing, and sneezing hurt. One of the most unusual things about it was I could feel my heels in the center of my head while walking, every step was like a fingernail flick to my brain. OUCH!!!!

Evan, my oncologist's P.A., said it was a sinus infection. She had me on Mucinex, Sudefed, Excedrin Migraine, and regular ibuprofen - all at different times - nothing worked for days. So I was sent to have a MRI on Monday, and this Tuesday morning I was told I have a swollen Pituitary Gland stem.

This image and the description below was pulled from rickrichards.com 

The pituitary gland, produces the hormones the body's needs. These hormones are then circulated in the blood to the body's tissues, including other endocrines.

Evidently it's not that serious, the steroids should take the swelling down and I'll be able to continue with my treatment, hopefully by next week. I'm slotted in for the 22nd of September. The picture above  makes the Pituitary Gland look like it's part of my brain - but it's not really, and I couldn't be happier.

So as of now, I feel so much better. I don't feel the pressure against my optic nerve as much. The headache is leveling. 'Stabby' is making less frequent appearances - thank god, and I should be back up to my norm by sometime tomorrow.

I think I'll be able to sleep tonight!

PS: I don't know how I did it - but I played guitar with Dan at the Hopscotch Festival in Raleigh NC. We sounded great thanks to Tony (Keys) and David (Drums) who came down to play from NY and DC. I have to tell you the best part of the whole night was that I had the best 'seat' in the house to see and hear Dan do his blazing guitar solos! He's amazing! I want to thank Tony, and David for coming to play with us. Sorry I won't be in NY!

Hopscotch Festival 2011

Love to all!
Letha

Getting Through Plan B

I saw my oncologist’s PA, Evan, on August 2nd, right after my latest PET scan. She said the news was good, that I was clear of cancer in my soft tissues. Thank God!  But she reminded me that I did have cancer growing in my Sacrum bone, when I’d been under the impression that it was in my coccyx bone. I always imagined my coccyx bone being lopped off by Dr. Pruitt if it got too out of hand. You can’t lop off a Sacrum! Evan, said I had two options, 1. Wait and see if I would develop anymore tumors in the future, or 2. Be pro-active and use the drug Yervoy.

Arghhh! Yervoy again! What’s the matter with you people! It cost too much for me to even think about - Don’t you people remember!  My insurance won’t cover it! 

  That afternoon I was on the phone with my insurance company - it took the whole day! I have the “on hold” muzak ingrained in my brain; the same piece of modern elevator synthesizer, over and over and over! Please make it stop!

The insurance company had already told me that the only thing I could do was to make an appeal.  I was told to call the people in the financial department at Duke. It was late in the day and I had to leave a message. I was sure that I was destined to wait around until I had some other cancerous growth, (maybe one with teeth and a hairline) before I would get anymore help. I had a fitful night of sleep, anxious to resume my phone call where I had left off  at 8AM the next morning.

The next day, before I had my coffee, I was being told that I needed to speak to someone else in a different financial department at Duke. I had just jotted the number down when a call came in on the other line. I wrapped it up with the first call and took the other. I couldn’t believe it, it was the woman who’s number I had just written on a scrap of paper, and she was telling me that my appeal had been accepted for the Yervoy.  Turns out, she had gotten my message from the day before, and had also had been talking with Evan, and my insurance company. I got it!  The $30,000.00 per dose drug. The $120,000.00 for the 4 needed doses, drug! The drug. The drug “I always wanted!”

 From the phone call that took place on Friday, I was instructed to go to Duke Monday, to sign papers letting Duke off the hook should anything go wrong with the insurance deal. On Tuesday morning I was at the hospital with a green light for treatment. One, two, three. It was absolutely shocking!

I was so nervous; it was happening so fast. Since March 2011 I had been told I couldn’t have Yervoy.  Now like magic, practically overnight, I was getting the drug with an extortionist price tag, that has been reported to extend the life of people with stage IV melanoma. The thought of it made me go weak in the knees. They say, “Be careful of what you wish for! You just might get it!”

I checked in, and before I knew it my was name called. What! This was unheard of! It always takes an hour and a half, at least, before I get shown to a room! Walking down the hall we passed not only Evan, but my oncologist as well! Both smiled and said, “Hello!” as they passed. What kind of alternate universe were we in?  

Evan entered the exam room, almost immediately, we all settled, went over a few preliminary questions and had a discussion about the drugs I was about to receive.  Within 10 minutes Evan was ready to send me on to the “Treatment Room”. This wasn't the norm, because:

#1: Nothing ever happens ahead of schedule. (We were at least two hours ahead!)

# 2: What the hell is this treatment room?

I don’t know how I got it so wrong about what was really happening. I had imagined a private exam room where I’d be getting a shot; kind of a in-and-out sort of thing. I had no idea what I was about to encounter.

Dan and I reported to the desk in a large waiting room. They had cookies and coffee out for the 15 or so people sprawled about the room - which made me think that everyone was in for a long haul. I was told that there were soft drinks and ice in the treatment room, so I went in to get a coke. It was like scene from 'Blade Runner/Brasil' - retro-futuristic. Ancient pink floral patterns on the walls with shiny chrome cubes and nozzles with clear  tubing hanging out of walls connecting into  machines, There must have been 50 pink recliners, full of cancer patients in different stages of the disease; all hooked up to individual IV’s  pumping out some chemo-cocktail. Off to the side were semiprivate rooms with actual beds. Those people looked a bit worse for wear than the reclining fellows. My heart was racing - God! I’m one of those people!

 I suppose in all the time that I’ve been well enough to get around on my own, I haven’t been thinking of myself in terms of being someone with cancer. It’s all been so abstract! From the beginning I’ve been told to show up for this or that procedure - so I’d do what I was told. I may have been drugged and really out of it at times; and at times have had gone through terrible side effects and mental stress -  but I never really put it together that I have cancer in this way! Standing among the others I realized that “I” have to have chemotherapy (really immunotherapy) - that “I” have to be laying around in a recliner with someone two feet away in an other recliner who isn’t coherent - That “I’m” in a huge sea of people with cancer - some possibly close to dying! 

This woman next to us, evidently a family member of the incoherent man, had her mouth full of pizza as she made eyes at us. She was chewing and trying to have a casual conversation with us about our first time being there, all while my nurse kept missing my vein, making my arm into a bloody dripping mess. The head nurse had to be called in to take over the job. Dan and I weren’t feeling communicative to our neighbors - understandably. If I tried I couldn’t possibly have made-up a more horrifying story of what it was like in that room. Inside my mind, I felt like a woman in a huge crowd, down on her knees, hands reaching out franticly, grubbing and pleading for it all to go away. Imagine: Picasso’s ‘Guernica’. I needed something to calm me down - I asked the nurse for an Ativan. I thanked god I had Dan there by my side keeping my connection to him and to myself through the thick layer of surrealism.

I'm the one on the right!

The treatment only took an hour and a half, but the time had warped into something much longer, wavy and unfocused. I kept having realizations about the future; one being that I wouldn’t be able to come to NYC like I and Dan had planned. I was going to be playing guitar with him, for his ‘Catbirds and Cardinals’, Northern Spy record release show on October 1st at a club called Shea Stadium in Brooklyn, and a show on October 2nd at the Cake Shop. I had also been so kindly asked to play my experimental music, Tretetam, on Brian Turner’s renowned WFMU show on September 31st. What a great honor, and what a terrible disappointment that I had to cancel. I’ll have to postpone it for a later date! I was also looking forward to seeing all my friends that I miss so much. My doctors have advised against me going, as it seems that those days will be the optimum time for the Yervoy’s side effects to kick in. I already have a heavy skin rash and am beginning to itch like crazy. There are some major side effects, that I won’t go into, that show up during the third dose of Yervoy, which is the thing that really prevents me from taking any trip too far from home. I have to keep in mind that I am an amazingly lucky person - that I have someone that loves me, probably more than I’ll ever know, that I have been given the best care that a person with cancer could expect. And that whatever side effects I experience, I can, and I will recover.  I did it last time, I can do it this time, I will be able to experience the things that are most important to me, and I will continue to be myself. Not a cancer victim. I will come up to NY sometime early next year. I’ll keep playing music with my “Rooster” and I’ll keep making my crazy tea-kettle music.

I have more to tell, but will have to continue in the following days.

Thank you all for being so supportive of me. You all don’t really realize how much you’ve done to keep me focused and on the right track. I just want to say “Thanks!” I’m a lucky person to have had so many people to reach out to. Thank you.

Love, 

Letha

PS: I had a really great time visiting my amazing photographer friend Ken and his family. We got to swim in the Eno River, play with fish, and have some great talks surrounded in the beauty of nature. I won’t forget it. Thank you so much for coming!

I “have a lot of ‘splaining to do, Lucy!”

So much has happened since my last blog entry. To re-cap my last entry, in July I had been generously flown down to Texas by my sister, (who was visiting from Istanbul) to see her and my mother for a week. At the time I was extremely excited about the possibility of being part of my surgeon’s clinical trial, and I had been living a straight 33 days with staples in my leg from two consecutive operations on June the 14th and June 29th. Ouch!

I had so much to look forward to on my homecoming! I couldn’t wait to get to the clinic to see Dr. Pruitt! I happily thrust my leg out to have the staples removed. As he took them out, he explained to me that his clinical trial had just lost it’s funding. What! What a blow! I’d been wondering why my Duke appointment porthole wasn’t full up with test and blood withdraws. I was thrown into shock. He told me that as soon as he got more funding I would be on the top of the list to take part in his trial. He unfortunately didn’t have any ideas to when that would be. I was dumbfounded, as the rug was pulled pull out from underneath me. I had been counting on that trial as my last resort. I kept asking Dr. Pruitt, “What could I do!”, “Who did I need to call!”, “How could I get him the money to keep going with the trial?”  He laughed, and shook his head. He said that he was going to keep looking for funding, and would let me know when there was a green light. I went home feeling I was heading for a dark place.  I did take some comfort from the fact that it would have been even worse if I had started the process and then the trial was suddenly curtailed. Poor Dr. Pruitt; poor people already involved in the trial! I just couldn’t stand by and let it all slip away - I had to do something!

I kept thinking of what official I could write to - someone who would listen to one little person with cancer - then it popped in my head! During my Interleukin 2 treatment I had been put in-touch with a man that had gone through the IL-2 process, and triumphed over the 30 cancers contained in his body. He’d told me what to expect from Interleukin 2 and explained the side-effects I could encounter. He’s been in contact with me throughout my IL-2 treatment and has checked in with me during my many other procedures.  John, (I picked this name to keep his anonymity) happens to be connected to “known” people in Washington DC, and it occurred to me that if anyone knew about how to raise big-time money it would be John. I wrote to him in a frenzy! I explained what Dr. Pruitt’s trial was about and how important it was for the trial to continue - not just for me, and not just for the people already in anchored in the process of receiving it, but for the many people who will be diagnosed with cancer in the future. I really believe in Dr. Pruitt’s trial, and I desperately wanted to be a part of it’s ground breaking history. My fingers were a blur across my keyboard. I hit send and waited for John’s response. My finger still hovered above the return on my computer when the doubt set in. Who did I think I was! It was stupid for me to assume that John could help. I was displaying actions of a terribly desperate person. Why did I even write to him!?  The bold subject line popped at the top of my incoming mail, it was a response from John! He was shocked to hear the breaks had been put on Dr. Pruitt’s trial; he told me he would be calling Dr. Pruitt, as well as another doctor who is high in the ranks at Duke to find out more about why the trial was stopped. I couldn’t believe it!  It was thrilling! Something could actually happen!

John did call them, and he told me - that he himself, years ago, had been one of the subjects of Dr. Pruitt’ trials. John has been cancer free for the last 3 years! His anniversary scan is coming up in September. He also said, “I’m a very positive person and I will do what I can to keep Dr. Pruitt’s research going.”

I’m so happy to say, that through my emails to John, I found that he’s a member of the board of The V Foundation, a foundation for cancer research started by Jim Valvano and ESPN. The V Foundation is dedicated to raising money to be used directly for cancer research through donations, fundraisers, and grants. The weekend of August 6th they raised 4.1 Million dollars for cancer research - Dr. Pruitt was offered support by John, and they are going to be working together on a program where the clinical trial won’t be so limited by funds. I’m so happy about that, but I realize that I can't wait for the trial’s funding to become available, it will take some time for things to be put in place - time I may not have. Onwards to plan B!