Back to Ocular Melanoma Metastatic to the Liver

These are the stories of patients
with ocular melanoma metastatic to the liver
who have received treatment:

With treatment, these courageous people have gained two years or more of good quality life with their families.

 

Ellen Buchanan, age 54, diagnosed with mets to the liver Jan. 1999.

Esther Damaser, age 71, diagnosed with mets to the liver 2003.

Daniel Indorf, age 29, diagnosed with mets to the liver Oct. 2005.

Peter Markens, age 53, diagnosed with mets to the liver spring 2002.

Lil Trimboli, age 44, diagnosed with mets to the liver in March 2001. And Update.

Mark Sheldon, age 43, diagnosed with mets to the liver in December 2001

Bobbi Lehrhoff, age 48, diagnosed with mets to the liver in April 2002

Ocular melanoma with no metastases:

Melissa, age 48, diagnosed with ocular melanoma of the eye in Dec. 2002.

 

Date: Dec. 22, 2006
From: Ellen Buchanan

Hi Jane, I have been reading my story and realized there is a gap that should be filled in with some good information on the Sir Spheres treatment I had done.

Sept. 2005 My latest scan showed what the doctors described as an "explosion" of tumors in my liver. I was shocked to say the least and felt that possibly my treatment options had run out but my onocologist referred me to a wonderful radioligist who told me not to give up. He thought I would be a good candidate for a treatment using Sir Spheres. This treatment involves injecting tiny glass beads of radiation into the liver tumors via the artery in the groin. The treatment made me quite sick for about 8 weeks but not everyone has such a strong reaction. My next scans showed shrinkage in all tumors and I was thrilled. The scans in March again showed more shrinkage in the tumors and I was starting to feel normal again.

Jane, this gives a little more explanation about the treatment I had for those who don't know what sir-tex is. My December scan showed now growth in the tumors but it did show possibly a new tumor. They want another MRI in two months and I sent my films to Dr. Sato for his opinion. But I am feeling great otherwise and my energy level is much better than it was.

Date: Sept. 16, 2004
From: Ellen Buchanan

My name is Ellen Buchanan and I was diagnosed with ocular melanoma in 1984. At the time, I had no idea how serious my cancer was and was given the choice of enucleation, which my doctor told me in itself could cause the cancer to spread, and the iodine 125 plaque. I decided to go with the plaque and hope for the best. I went back for check ups religiously for 10 years and stopped when my doctor retired. My eye healed well and I had no problems with my vision. I was very lucky.

I remained disease free until January of 1999 when after having severe shoulder pain and some abdominal pain, I went to the doctor thinking I was having a gall bladder attack. After an ultra sound, the doctors found a large, grapefruit sized tumor in my liver. I was shocked to say the least but no one connected the tumor as being melanoma. But the subsequent biopsy proved otherwise. After the tumor was biopsies, I ended up in the hospital with internal bleeding. While there, a melanoma specialist saw me and advised that I have surgery to remove the tumor and then have my eye removed also. Telling me that if I didn't that the cancer cells would just continue spreading to the liver.

It was a little more than I could deal with at the time so I told him that I needed to think about it. I was living alone. My daughter married with two young children and my son in the Air Force. I took this opportunity to turn to God and other methods of self healing. I made drastic changes in my diet and read every book I could on mind/body medicine and cancer and diet, meditation, etc. It was actually one of the most peaceful times in my life. I actually felt I that I could heal myself. My two sisters and mother thought I was nuts. Needless to say they were very unsupportive. I did have the support of my son and of course my three dogs who were always at my side. It was when I was reading a book by Carolyn Myss that she mentioned when faced with cancer, that you should never rule out conventional medicine. Especially when surgery is an option. So, I decided to get a second opinion and was glad I did. She agreed with me that if I was having no problems with my eye that there was no need to have it removed and scheduled me for several tests to rule out metastasis elsewhere.

Fortunately, everything came back negative. It wasn't until I went to see the surgeon, that I was made to realize the fact that I could die from this disease. He gave me my prognosis and told me that they could open me up and find my organs covered with tiny sandpaper sized lesions in which case the would close me back up and that would be that. For the first time I went home and cried. I had no computer so I went to the bookstore and tried desperately to find anything on ocular melanoma. No luck there. Then, after talking to a good friend, I was able to pull myself together and refused to accept that I may only have a 20% chance to live 5 years. I found a book, which I think is a book everyone should read before surgery called, How to Prepare for Surgery and Heal Faster, by Peggy Huddleston. I made myself a tape that was played during my surgery and gave my anesthesiologist a list of affirmations to say while I was under. I had the entire right lobe of my liver removed and was given no blood transfusions. I went home from the hospital a day early and my recovery was quick.

My oncologist in the mean time, found a clinical trial at Thomas Jefferson University Hospital that involved making a vaccine from my own tumor cells. I qualified for the trial and flew back and forth every month from June until September. This was my first introduction to my hero, Dr. Sato. What a wonderful, caring man. My arm was a mass of oozing blisters and very sore but the only other side effect was tiredness. That October I ended up in the hospital with a small bowel obstruction from adhesions from my liver surgery. I ended up having major surgery and three depressing weeks in the hospital with a tube down my nose into my stomach and no food or water. I developed an infection in my abdomen and they had to remove several stitches to let it close and heal on its own. My abdomen looks like a peace sign without the circle and my navel is way off center. LOL. I become pretty depressed after this and felt that I did not want to die like this. Wasting away in a hospital bed.

So, when I had my next scans in January of 2000, a mass showed up in my abdominal area and they wanted to do another biopsy. But I was through with it all. No more tests, doctors, needles, IV's hospitals. That was it for me. I decided I wanted to enjoy what time I had left so I decided to quit my job of 16 years, which I hated anyway, and live off the money from my 401k. Well, I loved not working and I was glad to be free of doctors and tests. I started taking riding lessons, I started taking art classes and drawing again. I bred one of my boxers and she had three adorable puppies and weeks turned into months and months into years. Then I started to run out of money. And my cobra ran out in the fall of 2001. I had to start looking for a job.
Sometime that spring, my shoulder pain came back and, thinking it was just stress, I ignored it. Then in May I couldn't stand it any longer and went back to a different oncologist. I was devastated by the results which showed multiple tumors in the liver, multiple small lesions in both lungs and a tumor on my pituitary gland in my brain. The doctor told me we could try hepatic embolization with GM-CSF on the liver tumors and sent me to a radiologist who treated my brain tumor with stereotactic radio surgery. Gamma knife was not an option since the tumor was too close the optic chasm. My oncologist told me go home and put my house in order but my time was filled with trying to apply for Medicaid and social security disability. I thought about a will but was not ready to give up yet.

I need to go back a little and mention that after my liver surgery in March of 1999. I went out and bought a computer and after doing some research, I found Lil. Her situation was very similar to mine and she encouraged me to join the ocu-mel list. We stayed in touch for the next few years and I met several people on the list that I became friends with. It was Lil and Scott that told me about GM-CSF. At the time, Dr. Sato was the only doctor doing this procedure and thanks to him, my onc. started doing the procedure here in Atlanta at Emory University. I had four embolizations and then a break. I have continued to have them off and on now and as it turns out, they now think that my brain tumor was what they call a benign pituitary adenoma and since my lung lesions have not changed in three years, they feel that it is not melanoma but probably a benign disease or even scar tissue. So, that means that my cancer is still confined to my liver.

In February of this year, they did an embolization with GM-CSF on one tumor (I had three at the time) and then at the end of the month they did RFA which they feel was very successful and think the tumor is pretty much dead. This month I had an embolization on the two other tumors which are still very small and will have scans again in November. I am feeling good and still doing my artwork and enjoying my dogs. In the mean time, I lost my older sister to a two year battle with lung cancer. She had always been a heavy smoker and could never stop. I also lost two of my dogs last winter which took quite a toll on me. So I guess what I am trying to say is that although I believe that stress lowers the immune system, we can't always lead a stress free life. We just need to deal with it the best way we can. I still meditate on a regular basis and work on anger issues. It's a constant battle but I feel it is so important not to hold onto anger. I plan on being around for a long time and am very proud of the fact that I past my 5 year mark since liver metastasis in January. I don't know what my future will hold. I only know that I am thankful for every day that I am still here and pain free and feeling good. I am still struggling financially but am going to make it. I hope my story gives you some inspiration. I have lost a lot of good friends to this disease and they all fought so valiantly. For some reason, I am still here. And I know I have lots of guardian angels on the other side watching over me. And their names and stories are all here.

Love to all,
Ellen

Update from Ellen
Date: Fri, 17 Jun 2005

I just wanted to give you an update on me since is has been a little while. I am still doing well and have not had any treatment since August of last year. I recently had a PET scan and my liver mets are still small and stable and have not had any new lesions anywhere else. My onocologist seems satisfied with no treatment and I agree. I am feeling good and enjoying life. I feel truely blessed.

Sincerely,
Ellen Buchanan

Update from Ellen
Date: Sat, 16 Sep 2006

I am doing fine and am still having a slight response from sir-tex treatment I had last November. I am feeling good and still only dealing with liver mets. Dr. Sato has told me that he believes that I am one of the longest survivors of this disease with mets. I am now well into my 7th year and going strong. I haven't had time to catch up on some of the posts but I hope that everyone is doing well.

My best to all,
Ellen

Updates from Esther

Date: Sun, 10 Jun 2007
From: Esther Damaser
Subject: Re: spreading mets

I have mets in my liver, and all over my peritoneum (the "sac" that holds all the organs in your abdomen. They were discovered by accident when a surgeon attempted to RFA the remaining liver mets. They have not shown up on any scan until recently, they were too small then, but are growing.

These mets seem not to be attached to any other organs, just near them (colon, ovary, etc.). That's why I'm on a systemic treatment (Sutent) rather than one targeting the liver.

I feel really great, at last CT scan my mets are stable, possibly shrinking a bit, no new ones.

Esther may be reached through the Ocu-Mel list.

Date: Sun, 10 Jun 2007
From: Esther Damaser
Subject: Re: spreading mets

I find it so upsetting that people other than the person who has the disease make judgements about whether that person "should" treat or not treat based on the person's age.

I am 71. I am fighting with every resource I have to stay alive. I have been doing this now for 4 1/2 years, sonce my OM first appeared in my liver, and I'm not done yet. I have had four different courses of treatment, I'm on my fourth now, feel healthy, doing well.

Throughout all this time I have been, and am, enjoying life immensely. I am active, I have friends and family whom I enjoy, I have children and grandchildren who give my life much meaning. In fact, I recently celebrated the birth of my 6th grandchild.

I have encountered those docs who have the attitude described: "There is no cure for this, treatment will only make you feel sick, just enjoy the time you have left." These docs have denied me treatment. Of course, I find other docs.

What infuriates me is that this decision is not theirs to make, it is mine. If I want to fight, they should help me, and my family and friends should not condemn me for it because I am "old."

If a person chooses to not get treatment, that too is their decision, not the docs, not friends and family. My only caveat is that such a decision should be informed by all the contingencies. Some of which are: not all treatments make you feel sick, there is no cure but life can be meaningfully extended, you can be active and enjoy life whileunder treatment, etc.

Sorry to rant, but this issue touches close to home.

Date: Mon, 6 Feb 2006
From: Esther Damaser

OK, the feedback of all my scans and laparoscopy is in. That's the comprehsive part, how exact they are is another story. On the whole it's great news, so I'm not complaining.

Briefly: The PET shows nothing (never did). MRI of brain shows only that I'm an old lady. The MRI of lungs show they are clear. The CT & MRI of liver both see "something," but the "something" is smaller than it was before I went into the BAY/Bev study.

The ultra sound directly on my liver during laparoscopy showed a smaller "something." Here's the peculiar part--two biopsies of the "something" came back with the Pathology report of "no lesion found." I thought maybe they just missed the lesion when trying to biopsy, but my doc said that it could also mean that there no longer is a lesion, that what the scans see is a space where the lesion was, that the liver takes time accommodating to changes such as shrinkage.

The only down side is that my peritoneal mets are still there, BUT there are many fewer of them. Biopsy of these spots verifies melanoma. None are larger than 1 mm.

So we must conclude that the BAY/Bev treatment did indeed help me. I am very grateful.

Under doctor's orders I am going to take a rest from treatment for a few weeks, and am going to take a rest in general--going to Florida. (It's going to be 18 degrees tonight here where I live in Ohio).

Date: Sept. 18, 2004
From: Esther Damaser

My story is a long one, as befits my current age of 68. Let me say at the outset that I have yet to experience a single symptom, other than compromised vision in one eye.

In 1980, when I was 45 years old, I was diagnosed with choroidal melanoma. My only symptom was a twinkling in my visual field which I had seen for 2 years prior to diagnosis. (I had gone to three ophthalmologists asking about the twinkling, only to be told they didn't see anything, and I shouldn't worry about it. The fourth took his time, looked around corners, and found the melanoma.)

Don't give up pursuing the origin of a symptom.

The recommended treatment at that time was enucleation or removal of the eye. The diagnosing ophthalmologist told me this and asked if it would be alright to schedule it next Thursday. I was overwhelmed, and asked to wait a bit. At this time in my life, I had been married for 19 years, and had three lovely children, a girl, 17, a girl 16, and a boy 12. I was a clinical psychologist who had a satisfying career as both a private practitioner and as Director of the Psychology Department at a children's hospital. Like most of us I had everything to live for. And like most people given a first time diagnosis of cancer, I thought I would die within the year. I was wrong, of course.

With the encouragement of my husband and with his enormous help, we went to first the local university library, then to the vast resources of the Ohio State University Medical School. We got a basic anatomy book of the eye to help us understand the terms of the journal articles I was to read. I read every abstract in the English language of journal articles on uveal melanoma for the previous five years and then the relevant articles themselves. I quickly discovered that enucleation did not have a good track record with regard to subsequent metastasis and longevity. Newer treatments were proton beam, radiation plaque, and photocoagulation (laser). None of these had a long enough track record to make an informed decision. I chose photocoagulation because it seemed the least invasive.

I found a retinologist and researcher at Ohio State University Medical Center, Dr. Fred Davidorf, who is experienced and knowledgeable in OM, and who sat with us til late at night answering every single question. When we still had questions, Dr. Davidorf arranged a consultation with another researcher at a different institution whom he thought might disagree with him. I decided to be treated by Dr. Davidorf, have been seeing him every six months for 24 years, and feel as though we are good friends who have gone through life together.

Find a doctor who will answer all your questions,
is open to second opinions,
and is willing to learn along with you.

So, in 1980 I had six laser treatments. The tumor shrank. I was followed by Dr. Davidorf at first with examination every three months and with ultra sounds and fluorescein angiography every 6 months. In addition I was followed by a medical oncologist with examinations every six months and with annual CT scans, blood work, chest X-rays, and mammograms. Nothing showed up for 8 years.

Then in 1988 the ocular tumor started to re-grow. Again, enucleation was recommended. Again, my husband and I did research. The newer data suggested that other treatments had about the same survival rate as enucleation. I chose radiation plaque, and went to Wills Eye Hospital in Philadelphia to have it done by Dr. Jerry Shields.

The tumor gradually shrank, though in two years I lost usable vision in that eye. I continued to be followed every three months, then every six months, by Dr. Davidorf, with regular ultra-sounds, photos, and, when questionable results appeared, a computer enhanced MRI of the eye. All negative.

One needs to keep up frequent regular scans of your eye and your body forever!

I also continued to have annual CT scans of my abdomen and pelvis, mammograms, blood work, and chest X-rays. About 23 years after the initial diagnosis of ocular melanoma, two lesions were noted by CT scan in my liver. Liver function tests were normal. The oncologist suggested watching, and implied they might be something other than mets. Over the course of a year I had four CT scans of the abdomen & pelvis, each of which was reported as lesions unchanged and stable. A PET scan showed negative results (I've had a total now of three PET scans: each was totally negative despite positive biopsies). The oncologist was stymied. He reasoned that if it's not growing, it's not cancer, and he didn't want to subject me to an invasive procedure such as a liver biopsy if it were not necessary. Not knowing how dangerous the situation was, trusting his judgment, and wanting to believe him, I agreed.

Don't accept wait and watch strategies without investigating implications.

In 2003 I noticed a spot on my knee, which turned out to be cutaneous melanoma. It was not deep and was excised. The cutaneous melanoma (diagnosed as a primary unrelated to the OM) was not considered a threat to my life. More CT scans were done, and the surgeon urged me to have a liver biopsy. This I did and it confirmed liver metastasis. Though pathologists could not tell if the metastases were from the eye cancer or from the skin cancer, most doctors I consulted thought they must be from the eye cancer I had 23 (and maybe even 26) years prior.

Ocular Melanoma can recur or metastasize many years after treatment.

So, these mets were my fourth go-round with cancer. It seems to get easier each time, though it is always very hard. I got the reports of every CT and MRI I had had and made a chart of the estimated size of the liver lesions which had been described as stable and unchanged. I discovered that each time the radiologist had compared the current scan to the previous scan, and only to that one. When the most recent was compared to the most remote, it became clear that the lesions were growing, however slowly.

Get copies of all your reports, look at them carefully and ask questions.

I did some more research, helped by family and friends, (these days the Internet facilitates a great deal), and found the Ocu-Mel listserv, from which I still receive wonderful support, information, and advice. The listserv led me to Dr. Takami Sato, of Thomas Jefferson University Hospital in Philadelphia, and I was in his immuno-embolization study for several months. I had a total of seven immuno-embolization treatments. The treatments were very successful--at this writing my liver lesions are not discernible on CT scans.

After the seventh treatment, Dr. Sato's plan was to have a laparoscopic procedure done to look around, do an ultra sound of the liver, take a biopsy of whatever is there, and burn what is left of the lesions with radio frequency ablation (RFA). The laparoscopy was done but they found several 1 mm-sized dark spots in my peritoneum (belly) which, on biopsy, were determined to be melanoma. The surgeon and the radiologist decided not to proceed with either the RFA or the ultrasound.

Since there is no standard treatment for OM mets to the peritoneum, Dr. Sato put together a plan derived from treatment for gynecological cancers, such as those of the ovary and fallopian tube. It involves the insertion of a temporary port into my belly so that a high dose of chemo, taxol (paclitaxol), can be infused weekly for 16 weeks. I've found an experienced gynecological oncologist at the Cleveland Clinic who has inserted the port, and I will begin the chemo there next week.

Several times during this odyssey, when stymied by which course of action to take, I simply called a doctor whose name I had seen on pertinent research, and asked for his advice. I had no prior relationship to these people, found their phone numbers on the website of their institution, and got right through. Each one was helpful, kind and courteous.

Do not hesitate to call any expert you think might be helpful.

I have been married for 43 years now. I have seen my three children grow into happy, successful, good, and lovely human beings, and I'm now watching my three wonderful grandchildren grow happily. I am grateful to have had so many years of good health after the initial ocular melanoma, and to still be symptom free. I've been fortunate to find compassionate, learned, and adventurous physicians. I've been lucky to have the generous and strong support of husband, children, extended family, friends, and, of course, the Ocu-Mel listserv fellow travelers. As long as I have the energy, I will continue to fight this disease.

Esther

From: Rebecca Indorf >
Saturday, March 8, 2008 6:30:05 PM
Subject: Update on Dan

In November of 2007, on a routine brain MRI, they found a 2-3 cm metastatic brain tumor. Up until that point, Dan has had Brain MRI's every 6 moths, all being negative for any metastases. After many discussions with all physicians and with the brain surgeon, they felt that Gamma Knife was the way to go. Gamma Knife is a high dose of localized radiation to one area, which allows to get the maximum amount of radiation to the tumor only, while not killing the other healthy cells. A one time "quick fix".

Due to the brain tumor, Dan was "kicked" us off the drug, Sutent, and on to another game plan. Dan started on a systemic chemo regimen of carboplatin, taxol, and nexavar with Dr. Sato's guidance. This was done every three weeks, three times and then he was rescanned after 12 weeks. The chemo was an absolute nightmare and completely turned Dan into a different person. He had no appetite, mouth sores, stomach pain, bone pain, and when he would eat, he said he felt even worse afterwards. We tried everyone's suggestions for nutrition, mouth sores, etc. and it helped a little, but doesn't "solve" the symptom. He was 20 lbs lighter, bald, pale, sad, grumpy, and just not "My Dan". It was an unbearable time in both of our lives and hope to not have to relive it again. It hurt so bad to come home to a completely dark house with Dan not moving off the couch and not wanting to communicate at all. We kept telling ourselves, that it was going to be worth it, but in the end, this chemo regimen didn't work.

Dan's liver tumors have almost doubled in size since before he started chemo. Tumors that originally measured 2-3 cm prior to chemo, are now 6-7 cm. It has killed me to watch the chemo "kill" him every day. For obvious reasons, it has made us both miserable and was draining the happiness from Dan. Those months were the most challenging ever: with nausea, vomiting, pain, trying to get him to eat ANYTHING, keep him positive, keeping myself sane, and just try to live somewhat of a normal life. I helped him go thru all that, watched him suffer, for not much of anything. Deep in my heart, I knew that the systemic chemo that he was on, was a long shot and I admit that I didn't have much faith in it, but I thought if Dr. Sato (who is brilliant with OM research) recommended this as our next line of therapy, then we would follow his lead.

We then began the insurance process in hopes of being approved for Sir-Spheres to the liver. While that was getting approved, Dan gave us all a huge scare. One morning, Dan woke up sick, vomiting, and dry heaving again with a severe headache. And it was him who actually wanted to go to ER this time, so I knew he had to be hurting pretty bad. After pain and nausea meds, a CT scan of his head, the physician felt that the tumor and the surrounding edema was bigger and that the best thing to do was to perform a craniotomy and remove it. The physician also said, "Wow, you look pretty good for having such a large tumor!" So, Dan had 2 units of blood, and 4 bags of platelets to get his blood counts back up in order for him to even be able to tolerate the surgery safely.

The day before surgery, the brain surgeon met with us and Dan's parents and told us that Gamma Knife works on about 90% of Melanoma patients and that Dan happened to be one of the "unlucky" patients in the 10%. He said that the tumor (which is now 4 cm)should have been moving the other way: shrinking and not growing. He also said that the likely hood of the cancer coming back to the brain even after the removal of this tumor, is almost a definite "Yes". BUT, if we choose to do entire Brain Radiation after surgery, it would be very unlikely for more tumors to grow in the brain. So, we were all anxious to get the surgery over with.

His surgery went well, but lasted longer than usual. From the first cut to the closing of Dan's brain, it took 4 hours and 15 minutes for just the surgery itself. We had a crowd of family/friends in the waiting room and we were all nervous, waiting and waiting. The brain surgeon said, that the tumor was "hard to get to" but that he was able to get the entire tumor and blood clot that surrounded it. The next morning, we were up, walking laps around the hospital and he was doing so good that the doctor said Dan could be released that night. How often is it, some one goes home the day after brain surgery and back to work one week later?

We are now, 2 weeks out of brain surgery and Dan is doing remarkably well. He has had some nausea, vomiting, stomach and bone pain, but he says it has all been tolerable and controlled with medication. We leave tomorrow to Philly so Dan can be admitted to the hospital for the mapping and testing procedure for the Sir-Spheres to the liver. He will then have 5-7 days of localized radiation to the brain tumor site and then in 3 weeks, the first treatment of Sir-spheres to the liver. He is an amazing strong man and we will continue this journey and fight.

Date: Oct. 19, 2007
From: Rebecca A. Indorf

In Sept. 2004, my 26 year-old husband, Daniel, began to notice a "blur of vision" in his right eye that went on for about 3 weeks. A week later, we were told he had Ocular Melanoma, and the tumor was too large to be treated other than by enucleation. Daniel had an ultrasound of the liver, CT of chest, abdomen, pelvis, as well as a PET scan which all came back negative. The cancer had not spread, and we were so relieved. After the surgery, we were told "We got it all!"

In Oct. 2005, after a year of follow-up "clean" scans, we were hit by a truck when the doctor said, "The cancer has come back and is in your liver.” We didn't know that because Dan's eye tumor (the largest removed at The Cleveland Clinic) was so large that he was high risk for metastases. Still we thought, no big deal, Dan is young, healthy, vibrant and we will do whatever treatment to "fix it."

Little did we know, there IS no approved treatment and that many physicians hadn't even heard of Ocular Melanoma let alone know what to do with it. Our oncologist at the time suggested a systemic chemo of Decarbazine that I later learned has a less than 5% chance of even helping. Rather than accept the news, and sit back and watch the love of my life die, I did the research on my own. We ended up traveling to Philadelphia to see Dr. Takami Sato, one of the few OM specialists in the WORLD. Dr. Sato's team is amazing!

Since Dec. 2005, Dan has had 10 immuno-embolizations and 6 chemo-embolizations that have kept his liver mets stable. I strongly believe that it was the immuno-embolizations that kept him stable for so long (1 year), but he was also one of the "lucky" ones who got the drug. You either get the drug or a placebo. Either way, you are still cutting off the oxygen supply to the liver mets and can do chemo-embolizations after this, if immuno doesn't work. We did one year of immuno-embolizations to the liver and then 2 tumors grew so we were "kicked off" the clinical trial, and switched to chemo-embolization. Then one year from the liver diagnosis the melanoma had metastasized to his lungs and spine with 3 new tumors. He endured 6 weeks of radiation to the spine, and we were once again looking for other treatment options. Dan's body was starting to show too much toxicity from all the chemo to the liver and from the radiation to the spine. Dan was also on Nexavar to hopefully help fight the cancer systemically, which did not work for him as he continued to have disease progression in the liver and bone.

Dr. Sato was now more concerned with the cancer being throughout Dan's body and not just in the liver, so we had to do something systemic. Dan began yet another one of Dr. Sato's clinical trials which involved an oral pill called Sutent. He has had problems with his white count being too low, so he has been on and off it.

Our most recent news and scans were heartbreaking: the cancer is worse in his spine with more tumors, plus a few tiny ones in his pancreas, and the lung metastases that were being "watched", are larger. Dan has started another round of radiation to his spine per Sato's recommendations and after that will probably do some type of systemic chemo, but we haven't decided on that yet with Dr. Sato. He is to continue the Sutent until after radiation at least. We are getting low on options, but are not giving up!

Dan also currently does an IV bone strengthener, Zometa, once a month. For the past 2 1/2 years we have been traveling monthly out of state for Dan to be a "guinea pig" in any clinical trial that would help him. The disease has spread like wildfire.

This cancer is rare and the statistics are scary. Look for an OCULAR Melanoma specialist, NOT just a Melanoma doctor. Or at least have a Melanoma doctor who knows the difference and is willing to consult with other docs. This is so very important. Go with you gut on your choice of treatments and research, research, research. Traveling across the country is costly and inconvenient, but Dr. Sato is on the cutting edge for this crummy disease.

Definitely look at clinical trials specifically for ocular metastatic melanoma not just skin melanoma. They are two different beasts and not many docs recognize that. Insist on scans, such as CT/MRI at least yearly, or every six months. Pet scans are notorious for false readings. Dan has had 2 PETS, both being negative although it is pretty evident that he has several metastatic lesions. You may also want to request a CT/MRI of chest abdomen and pelvis, brain MRI, and a bone scan. Melanoma loves to lurk to these areas as well. Dan only had liver mets for one year, every other area in the body was clean and then it showed up in the spine and lungs one year later, another year later in pancreas, more in spine, and down into both femurs

Through all of this, my amazing husband has not complained one bit when a new chemo or drug is thrown at him to try. Today, Dan leads a very active life and has not stopped working, playing, or his social life! He still works full time, plays golf, and enjoys watching his beloved Ohio State Buckeyes. I love him dearly and am very blessed that he chose me to be his wife. We will keep fighting and will not give up.

Rebecca A. Indorf can be reached through the Ocu-Mel list.

Date: Sun, 2 Mar 2003
From: Peter Markens

[Peter died in March of 2004, having survived with good quality of life for two years after mets were diagnosed. His brilliance and courage will long be remembered by all who knew him.]

My name is Peter Markens, and I have ocular melanoma that has metastasized to my liver. When this first happened, I was given a death sentence (and a short one at that), and this is my story saying that it ain't necessarily so. I am presently 53 years old, and in September 2000, I was diagnosed with a choroidal melanoma that literally showed up overnight. Within 5 days, my left eye was enucleated by the Drs. Shields at Wills Eye Hospital in Philadelphia. I would recommend them without hesitation. My recovery from the surgery was relatively easy, and I was back to work in a week. Okay, that was probably pushing it, but it did me no harm.

I fully led my life thereafter, not worrying about the cancer, but regularly seeing a local oncologist. Other than being careful about who I might smash into on my left side, things were fine. My golf game actually improved. Well, sort of. After a bout of pneumonia in the Spring of 2002, my oncologist wanted me to get a cat scan of my chest, and that turned out to be pure luck. The CT picked up a small piece of my liver that looked suspicious, and a follow-up MRI showed 25+ lesions (tumors) ranging from 2 mms to 2 cms. My local oncologist (a very nice and caring doctor) told me that the cancer was automatically Stage 4 (the worst) and gave me 6 to 12 months to live. By the way, at this point, let me agree with the point made elsewhere on this Site. Blood tests are not enough. If you have ocular melanoma, INSIST on regular scans of your lungs and abdomen.

After catching my breath, crying with my wife, and being totally disoriented, we started to get educated. We found only a very few options, and we decided to settle on a clinical trial known as immunoembolization offered in Philadelphia by Dr. Takami Sato -- a truly great doctor, not only for his skill, but for his compassion, his not forgetting that we are real people as opposed to a number in his study, and for always being available for questions and consultation. His staff is equally impressive.

Every four weeks, I go into the hospital and have a catheter run from an artery in my groin up to my liver where a substance known as gm-csf is introduced to the liver. Simplistically, what happens is that the gm-csf teaches my blood cells to recognize the cancer cells and go get 'em. Apparently, they don't know enough to do this on their own. Also introduced into the liver is a gel-like substance that encapsulates the tumors and attempts to "suffocate" them by cutting off the supply of oxygen and blood that they feed on. Everyone reacts somewhat differently, but the side effects are not too bad. There is an overnight stay in the hospital, and a day or two later, I am pretty good to get on with my life.

As of this writing (March 2, 2003), I have had eight treatments and number nine is scheduled for four days from now. My cancer is stable, and stable is a very good thing. It has not spread beyond my liver, and the cancer in the liver has not progressed at all. There are many of us who are doing very well under this treatment and a variety of other treatments. Of course, not everyone responds the same way, but there is certainly real hope now that didn't exist even a few short years ago.

In August of last year, I quit my job, because I didn't want to spend the rest of my shortened life working. I traveled to Alaska and the Caribbean, I spent a lot of time reading, praying, meditating, working (I should say playing) at a cancer hospital for kids, doing various healing exercises, joined a drumming group, golfing and generally had a pretty terrific time. Most importantly, I spent time with friends and family including my now 15 month old granddaughter who is a true joy. I believe that all of the above was important to my continuing to be well. But as I kept living and doing well, it came to me that if I was going to live for a while, that I might as well start acting like it, so in January, I went back to work, which I have found to be energizing and, dare I say it, kind of fun.

My wife and I have a big vacation planned for June that we look forward to. We live our lives every day to the best of our ability and have real hope for the future, something that we had none of just a few short months ago. The Ocu-Mel list referred to on this Site has been a huge help and inspiration to us. So if you or a loved one ail from this crummy disease, come join the club that no one wants to be a member of as we warrior on together.

Best to all. Peter

Update August 30, 2003: Peter has just completed his 14th immunoembolization with Dr. Sato. Now the GM-CSF is in combination with Interleukin-2. He and his wife are heading off for more travels in between the next scheduled treatments.

Date: March 11, 2003
From: Lil Trimboli

[Lil died on May 13, 2004, having been an inspiration to all who knew her. With treatment, she lived life to the fullest for three years after mets were diagnosed.]

I am Lil and I was diagnosed with ocular melanoma in 1985 at age 27. At the time I was 4 months out from the birth of our 2nd child and also had a 2 year old at home, so no time to be sick! The enucleation was performed at Wills Eye Hospital in Philadelphia and I merrily went on with life, having at first every 6 months scans of my liver, but after 7 or 8 years of "all clear" we stopped doing these.

Then in March of 2001 I discovered a tiny cyst like bump on one breast and the biopsy was positive for melanoma. Further scans revealed 8 lesions to both lobes of the liver as well as a large mass associated with one ovary, something in my hilar (chest cavity) and abdominal cavity. We were overwhelmed with the news and unlikelihood of being able to treat all if any of it.

However, after much research, info gathering and prayer, my husband and I decided to go with a phase one clinical trial that was open to patients with multiple mets, including those outside the liver that was being conducted specifically for ocular mel patients at Thomas Jefferson Hosp. in Philly.

I began a series of monthly hepatic embolizations with GM-CSF, also commonly called "leukine." While the liver mets appeared stable after 8 weeks (2 treatments) the ovarian one was growing rapidly, so we decided to have it surgically addressed, and having that done seemed to tip the scales in favor of my immune system. We started to see shrinkage in the liver mets as well as several sub cutaneous bumps. Also the pathology of tissue removed indicated a systemic immune response in the form of tumor infiltrating T-lymphocytes. In other words, it looked like my body was producing cells that were targeting and attacking the cancer cells!

By September the liver mets were gone, however I had developed a 10 mm. lesion in my brain! This, I should add, was only detected because I requested a brain MRI, typically not done unless a person is experiencing symptoms. Lucky for me we caught it early enough that it was treatable with Gamma Knife, also known as steriotactic surgery (focused gamma radiation). In December, I developed a 2nd brain met, which we caught even sooner because I was now being followed closely with regular scans. This too was successfully treated with the Gamma Knife.

Having gone a couple of months with no sort of systemic treatments whatsoever-the liver mets were gone so no reason to target the liver--I opted for a self injecting "cocktail" of 3 different immune stimulating drugs: the GM-CSF, Interleukin-2 and Interferon-alpha. I began doing this in Dec. 2001 and am still at it 15 months later. We have had to readjust schedules and dosages and recently have cut out the interferon due to low neutrophil counts. Recurrence-wise I have had 2 pea-sized subcutaneous bumps show up this past Dec, both removed via minor surgery.

I would add that my quality of life has been excellent. I am a distance runner and continue with my activities and outdoor pursuits-at a somewhat more leisurely pace. I still workout, hike, climb, horseback ride, you name it. We try to stay current on new research developments and stay one step ahead for when the next crisis arises and always, always keep up with follow-up scans.

Lil Trimboli

UPDATE FROM LIL:

Date: Mon, 18 Aug 2003 17:27:13 -0600

I just want to share a special day; Last Saturday I competed in the Pikes Peak Ascent, an event that has significance to me because back in the summer of '85 when I was originally DXed with ocular mel, I had been training hard for months for just this race. At that time I had to head for the east coast (and Dr Shields) the week of the race, so some dear friends of mine drove me to the starting line the morning before we flew out to Philly. They gave me a great send off, and I proceeded to run the course to the summit. Just me and my dog. And at the top Scott and my two tots were waiting for me. I remember all the uncertainty of being newly diagnosed with cancer, how terrified I was and how I turned all of that fear into energy to conquer that mountain.

Since then, I have competed in the race a half dozen times, but never before was it so meaningful as last weekend, because after "going metastatic" in 2001, I never thought I would run it again. And this time I had tremendous purpose because I was running to support melanoma research.

There were friends and family all over the mountain that would appear unexpectedly and give me a little adrenalin boost just when I needed it. I ran well through the first 7 miles and the10,500 ft mark. From then on I ran out of steam and it was mostly walking the remaining 6 miles to the summit topping over 14,000 ft. But I still got in 12 min ahead of my projected
time in 4hrs 18 minutes. The best part was being greeted by my whole family who were working at the finish line (surprise!) and handing out the medals. Son Brendan presented me with mine and a big hug.

I think my immune system is still on a high from all of this! Meanwhile I am still awaiting PET scan results from last week. They ran me through for a 2nd scan which usually doesn't bode well, but right now I am thinking "mind over Matter." I FEEL good, therefore it won't be anything I can't handle.

With that I send thoughts of strength and hope to all of you. I say there is life after cancer! Keep living!

LIL

FROM SCOTT TRIMBOLI

Date: Thu, 13 May 2004 18:11:53 -0600

It is with great sadness that I must tell you that my dear wife, Lil, passed away this morning 13 May at 8:00AM. She passed peacefully at home surrounded by me, our three children, and her mom and dad. As with everything she did, she faced the end of her life with uncommon courage and grace. She will live on forever as the greatest inspiration to me and our children that I could have ever imagined.

Many of you know that ocular melanoma has been part of Lil's life since July 1985. After an enucleation in August of that year, she spent the next 16 years without evidence of disease. In that time, she ran numerous marathons (including a victory at Abingdon, England in 1987), ultra-marathons (100-miles), and other distants events. Lil also enjoyed hiking, snowshoeing, cross country skiing, and riding her horse. Of course her crowning achievement was, and always will be, our three wonderful children: Wendy (cadet at the USAF Academy), Jill (midshipman at the US Naval Academy) and Brendan, a high school student in Colorado Springs. Lil's disease returned in Apr 2001 to her liver and other areas.

We credit the kind, compassionate care of Dr. Takami Sato at Thomas Jefferson University Hospital in Philadelphia for giving her three wonderful years beyond anyone's expectations. Unfortunately, her fight raged into a full-scale battle starting in March 2003. At that time, mets had returned to her liver, pancreas, abdominal lymph nodes, sacral spine and brain. Lil endured a tremendous ordeal as the disease affected her body and as she slowly began to accept her life was nearing its end. She entered hospice care on 30 Apr and with their loving help, we were able to keep her comfortable and manage her pain. Lil and I are some of the original members of the OCU-MEL list, having joined at its establishment in July 2001. She spoke often of how her life was enriched beyond measure through meeting the most inspiring and courageous people on this list. These were her personal heros and they made facing her final journey so much easier for her. It is a great comfort to me personally that today Lil walks together with Margaret Walker, Toby Dachs, Tali Twerskey, Eric Dunham, Jane Zint; our very special friends, Mark Sheldon, Siobahn McDonald, Bobbi Lehrhoff and Peter Markens, and all those I haven't named whom we admired so much...

Your friend,
Scott Trimboli

From: Mark Sheldon
Date: March 11, 2003

[Mark died on December 9, 2003, after a valiant fight which gave him two added years of good quality life. He was an extraordinary man, and his story here should be helpful.]

My name is Mark Sheldon. I was originally diagnosed with ocular melanoma in 1988. I was 28 at the time, was in graduate school, and had gone for a simple contact lens exam. The ophthalmologist spotted a suspicious nevus and sent me immediately to a retinologist who followed it for a year. After determining it was growing, I was sent to Dr. Devron Char in San Francisco who treated me with the radioactive plaque therapy. That turned out to be Round One.

I continued to have regular follow up eye exams which showed the original tumor basically shriveling up. My eyesight was significantly diminished due to the radiation and I eventually had to have two cataract surgeries also due to the radiation. But I took it all in stride. In fact, in all those years, I NEVER understood how serious the whole situation potentially was. How could I? I was just a kid out of college just starting on an exciting career path in radio. This was just a localized problem which I had taken care of and put behind me. I certainly never dreamt that such a small growth in the eye could threaten my very life!

Round Two: Eleven years after that surgery, new tumors appeared in the same eye in a different location. It came on very quickly and was doing so much damage that we had to quickly arrange to have the eye enucleated on March 1, 2000. But again, I thought I had paid the price and that now with the offending eye gone, I was finally free of the diminished eyesight and constant eye check ups. I was adjusting to monocular vision quite quickly and was moving on with my normal life again. No one had warned of what might potentially happen.

Round Three began after I visited an oncologist for an unrelated problem. I explained my history and he suggested a series of scans. The first came back clean. But a CT scan in December 2001 showed suspicious lesions in the right lobe of my liver. It took THREE biopsies over the next month to confirm that indeed this was the same ocular melanoma now spread to the liver. I sat in the oncologist's office barely understanding when he said, "there is very little that we can offer you," he said. It just didn't sink in. But being the type of person who doesn't just roll over and play dead, I pushed him for some alternatives. After some research, we came up with two options: Dr. Sato's liver embolization protocol in Philadelphia and Dr. Alexander's liver perfusion surgery at NIH.

Because Dr. Sato said he had just closed the first phase of his study and wouldn't begin the 2nd for a few months and because my oncologist felt the NIH procedure had a better track record, I decided to go with that very invasive procedure. It was an 8 hour surgery which amounted to a liver bypass, clamping off the liver to blood flow while they flooded it with high doses of melphalan. My recovery time was the better part of a month. I had several follow up trips to Bethesda until August 2002 scans showed the disease had continued to progress and so I was released from their study. The procedure had not worked.

So back to Dr. Sato. But again because I had now had the other surgery I was no longer eligible for his study. But I wanted to try the embolization procedure anyway. He was willing but the insurance company wasn't. In fact, when I pushed they dropped me from their coverage completely. A blatantly illegal move on their part but which left me with no insurance and few other medical options. So I refinanced the house and arranged to have Dr. Sato perform the first embolization procedure anyway in Philadelphia. A month later, I arranged to have the same procedure done in my hometown of Denver

In December, some very dear and dedicated friends mounted a huge fundraising concert on my behalf raising enough money to cover the cost of both of those procedures and help me put my financial house back together. It was one of the one of greatest and most humbling experiences of my life.

The next set of scans, however, showed the disease in the liver to be stable but continuing to spread into other areas and my oncologist said we needed a more systemic approach. Two small lesions appeared in the left lobe of my brain and so I had Gamma Knife done in January 2003. I then underwent two rounds of high dose Interleuken-2 treatments requiring two weeklong hospital stays each. The most recent scans show that we were able to knock out the brain mets, but those in the liver and now in the larger abdominal cavity continue to spread. So we haven't found the right treatment yet, but I continue to be hopeful.

In the meantime, I have also been accepted into a study at Hoag Cancer Center in Newport Beach, CA where they are attempted to grow a dendritic vaccine for me from samples of my tumor cells. That will take a while to accomplish but it seemed like a wise backup plan.

And so things go.

I have been thinking about how I've changed or been changed by this experience or challenge. More than anything, cancer has forced me to focus on the things that matter, not to put things off, not to waste time and energy but to "make it count." And that affects everything from "what would I enjoy eating for dinner" to "where do I want to work" and "what city do I want to live in." From the smallest to the largest choices and everything in between. "Should I redecorate now or later?" "Is it time to get back to Minnesota to see friends?" "Should I go back to California to visit family?" It has helped me get my house in order-professionally, financially, personally.

Since the original diagnosis all these years ago, I've had a heightened awareness of these things. It's why I have made the personal and professional choices I have over the years. "If this ever comes back," I thought, "I don't want to have spent my time in places I don't enjoy, doing things I'd rather not be doing." To live an "eyes wide open" existence allows me to avoid the "if only I had..." trap so many seem to fall into. Now with the recurrence I am getting to a point where I have very few worries in that regard. Fewer unresolved issues, fewer unsettled matters, fewer regrets. Most of us put off doing this "tidying up" process until we have to and then they weigh heavily upon us if/when the crisis does come...which it inevitably does for all of us at some point. So I'm grateful that in the midst of the medical crisis and what is turning out to be the fight for my life, I at least can say I haven't squandered the time I've been given. For the most part, of course.

Now, I don't believe I'm dying tomorrow, but by having this heightened awareness of my own mortality, I am trying to live a more productive life now. And though I certainly would not choose cancer as a preferred life path, the way I am trying to respond to its realities is proving to be pretty positive. Having already labeled the photo albums, organized the journals, and done the will (literally and figuratively), I feel relative peace. And that's a pretty great way...to live!

Mark Sheldon

Date: March 11, 2003
From: Bobbi Lehroff

[Bobbi died in January of 2004. Treatment provided over a year and a half of good quality life for her. As you can tell from her story, she was a very special person. We hope this may be of help to others.]
 
I was diagnosed with liver metastases in April 2002. I was previously diagnosed with choroidal melanoma in February 1990, and was treated with the radioactive plaque. I lost sight in the eye, but the rather large tumor (the largest they could treat with plaque) did shrink to an "ash". Over the next 12 years, I faithfully got my liver function blood tests every six months and had a chest Xray every year. I saw my retina specialist every 6 months, and I saw Dr. Shields, the eye oncologist, every year. In March of 2002, I starting getting intermittent sharps pains in my right side. They would come and go, and I ignored them. By April, I was feeling tired and nauseous. I went to my internist and she felt I had a gall bladder problem. Since I was feeling quite bad during that visit, she sent me to the emergency room. Nine days later I left the hospital knowing the melanoma had spread to my liver. The oncologist they referred me to and my doctor looked at me sadly and put me on pain meds. I really wasn't in that much pain. Although the oncologist said I could look for trials, he wasn't very optimistic. My doctor suggested I think of my quality of life, and that trials could affect that. All in all, not a very supportive experience. We live in the New York metropolitan area, so of course, everyone told us to call Sloane-Kettering in NYC. I spoke to the Head Melanoma Specialist there, and he asked me, "What do you expect us to do for you?" Feeling flabbergasted, I said I was searching for a clinical trial or something, and he said there was nothing for me there.

Finally, the "fog" from my brain cleared, and I thought I should call Dr. Shields. Who better to get a recommendation from? I feel that call bought me the time I now have. I was referred to Dr. Takami Sato at Jefferson University Hospital in Philadelphia. He agreed to see me and my tests. To shortened this long story, I am now one of his grateful patients. Not only does he have the technical skill, but he is a compassionate person. His entire staff is the same. He works with an extremely competent group of Interventional Radiologists and technicians. I had 8 immunoembolizations to the liver. My liver mets are now stable, and we are attacking some subcutaneous "bumps" in my abdomen and chest. At home, my husband gives me subcutaneous injections of 3 different immune system meds. During this entire time, I have been able to attend ball games, dance recitals, and go on many family vacations. My quality of life couldn't be better, under the circumstances. My youngest child has mild cerebral palsy and developmental delays and has no idea that Mom is "sick." I am able to help with homework and attend school affairs.

In early December, tests, hospitalizations, and the season gave me the blues. Unfortunately, I have 2 friends fighting breast cancer, and we would talk about our fight. It was supportive, but I longed to discuss "my" cancer with someone. Being a spiritual person, I asked the Universe for some help. In the middle of one sleepless night, I found the OCU-MEL listserv. My family will tell you what a blessing it has been. The change in my mood was apparent to everyone. I not only have these new online friends, but have met some of them. It is my goal to meet, in person, as many as possible. My other goal is to help as many others as I can.

Thank you for reading my story and thanks to the Jane for putting up this valuable website.

Bobbi

March 6, 2003
From: Melissa

Hi, my name is Melissa. I am 48. I was tentatively diagnosed with choroidal melanoma in my right eye on December 12, 2002, which was confirmed a week later.

I'd been noticing slight vision anomalies for awhile, possibly for a year. At night, a small white light I could see on a tower would scatter as it passed a certain point in my peripheral vision. At first I thought it was blurring because I was turning my head fast, but I couldn't make it happen at will. Then I noticed that in the dark I could see a repetitively glowing then fading "squiggle" in that same peripheral area.

I remember thinking that it might be a blood vessel, maybe related to blood pressure or stress or something. But life was busy, it wasn't painful, didn't interfere with my vision otherwise, didn't set off any alarm bells, and it just kind of came in under the radar. I hadn't had an eye exam for 13 years, as my vision was both stable and good, and I rarely even used my reading glasses. Never thought of an eye exam as a screening for cancer, just for vision correction and glaucoma testing. Ironically, after my diagnosis I remembered that in my twenties, I had worked with someone who had this and died of liver metastasis. But it had not been discussed in enough detail that I understood what it really was, or what the symptoms might be.

At a physical in early December, I mentioned the symptoms to my doctor, who referred me to an opthalmologist. He looked at me like I was nuts when I described my observations, and said, "those aren't symptoms of any known disease." His office was having a crazy day and I kept getting shuffled from one room to another as they did various tests. Finally at the end I had the dilated exam. He looked in my eye and suddenly changed from rushed and frazzled to quiet and compassionate, and I got this uh-oh feeling. He told me what he suspected, and I was stunned. He got me in to see a retinal specialist later that day. I had some time in between, so I went home and told my partner "everything's changed, I have cancer in my eye."

I was only able to get two of the three diagnostic tests that day (color photos of dilated eye called fundus photography, and fluorescein angiography, which is photos of blood vessels as dye passes through them), but was pretty sure the diagnosis was correct. I went back another day for ultrasound to determine size and density (tumor cells are dense, uniform and "low reflective"), and yet again for the confirming diagnosis. By then I had gone from numb to rage to depression to research to acceptance of the likely diagnosis, repeating the whole gamut a few hundred times, and mostly just felt exhausted.

I had already mentally attempted to blame myself for the disease and beat myself up for what I might have done to cause it, tried to blame others for why I hadn't taken the time to have exams, etc. But that logic didn't hold up too well under scrutiny or research, so I had to abandon it after a couple of days and go forward. I also felt a sudden urgency to get my affairs in order, get my whole life organized, boxed up and categorized. But little details like having a job, a life and doctor appointments prevented me from throwing myself into that project.

From there I went into hyperdrive. I spent about two weeks doing internet research every night, after days split between working and going to a variety of appointments to rule out any signs of metastasis, taking recreational reading breaks or sleeping when I hit information overload. I knew nothing about this disease, and for me it was important to know as much as possible. I made myself a three-ring binder, printed out many articles and bookmarked dozens more. Luckily I found my way to OCU-MEL pretty quickly, and I cannot say enough about the impact of the information and support I received from everyone. Subscribing to the list was one of the most significant steps I took to help myself get through this.

The retinal specialist described the tumor as nearly circular, medium-sized, 7-10mm diameter, just under 5mm in height, hypopigmented in the center, , highly vascularized, approximately 3mm from the optic nerve, and possibly of "collar-button configuration" indicating that it may have broken through the Bruchs membrane, although appearing conical in elevation rather than the mushroom shape generally associated with that description. It was described as being low reflective except for one band halfway up, indicating a possible hollow area. The optic disk and rest of eye appeared healthy. I was told that the three treatment options were enucleation (removal of the eye), proton beam radiation, for which I would have to travel to California (not something I wanted to do), and plaque radiation therapy, although it was assessed as a "tricky" spot because of proximity to the optic nerve. I was advised that I should probably make a decision in the next couple of weeks, as it could take a month or more to get on a schedule for treatment. The retinal specialist could do plaque therapy, or the opthalmologist or someone else could do enucleation.

I decided to seek a second opinion, preferably from someone who could do whatever treatment I chose. I found my way to the Casey Eye Institute, associated with the Oregon Health Sciences University in Portland, and made an appointment to see Dr. David Wilson, an ocular oncologist with a subspeciality in choroidal melanoma. He would be able to do either procedure, did many of them each year, and the institute was an original participant in the COMS study. Based on the results of that study, their standard of care is plaque therapy if possible. They had what sounded like a great team, and even the assistant who answered the phone was very helpful and reassuring. I immediately felt like I had found the right place.

My appointment wasn't until mid-January, so I had some time to learn more, wrestle with my treatment decision, and fret about whether I even had choices. I made a spreadsheet with pros and cons of each treatment. I made the decision to talk freely about the condition with people, which might not work for everyone, but helped me a lot.

I got a chest x-ray, CBC, liver function test, and was able to have a chest and abdominal CT scan, but only because they wanted a better look at something on the chest x-ray. I would recommend fighting for some type of imaging diagnostic test, if you can get it. I felt it was important to know if there was any evidence of liver metastasis before I made a treatment decision, and I don't believe liver function tests are adequate to rule it out. A note here: Once diagnosed, assume you are going to have some kind of surgery, and include whatever additional exams and tests would be needed to release you for surgery, to save time and cut down on appointments.

I did take time to tally up the many good things I had on my side. Supportive partner, friends, family, coworkers and fellow OCU-MEL members. A job. Health insurance. Convenient access to excellent treatment resources. No evidence of metastasis at the time of diagnosis. A computer and access to the internet. Family and friends with knowledge about nutrition and complementary and alternative medicine, or of qualified practitioners. An inquiring and analytical mind and adrenaline-fueled energy to apply to research. General good health. A symptomatic tumor that was therefore discovered sooner than it might have been. Family and work responsibilities that kept me (albeit sometimes resentfully) grounded in the "real world." A great bookstore where I found used copies of book titles I discovered in my research. And an extremely mild winter, so I didn't have to fight the weather to get to my many appointments.

At my exam at Casey, they did their own ultrasound, and I brought other test results with me or had them forwarded by various providers (previous ultrasound, color fundus photography, fluorescein angiography pictures, chest x-ray, chest and abdominal CT scan, liver function and CBC test results, and even mammogram from recent physical). I was told there was plenty of room to place the plaque (meaning the optic nerve was not so close that it presented a physical barrier), that I was a good candidate for plaque therapy, and that is what was recommended. I was also told I would lose some central vision, but would likely retain more than I had anticipated. This was good news, but even then I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, which I think took them aback a little. I later met with the radiation oncologist who calculates the dosage, and he showed me plaques and the other components, which was helpful.

Part of me still felt like having the tumor out of my body would be easier for me to deal with, and I almost resented finding out I had a choice to make, and yet whenever I contemplated giving up my eye, I had a strong physical and emotional reaction. The more research I did, the better I understood how difficult and personal a decision it is, as there are so many unknowns, and conflicting pros, cons and theories either way. If it were as simple as "your eye or your life" the decision would be hard, but clear. But it's not. It's your choice to make.

I finally opted for plaque therapy based on several factors. In the COMS study, the 15-year survival rates were identical. I would retain at least some vision for some period of time, and would not have to immediately make a big adjustment. I had no evidence of metastasis. I trusted the judgment of my oncologist. And since knowledge about this disease will only increase, if something does show up later, the treatments for it should improve over time. And the treatments for metastases already being undergone by people on OCU-MEL are producing better results than the frighteningly pessimistic prognosis given elsewhere. And I'm hopeful that with help I can put together an immune-system support program to help me ward off potential metastasis and protect my vision as much as possible. Only time will tell (maybe) if I made the right decision, but it was a major step just to make it, and I didn't look back.

My surgeries were scheduled sooner than I expected, and I felt suddenly rushed, after feeling so impatient. I didn't have all the nutritional strategies in place that I planned, but I did manage to do a number of things that made me feel like I had some control and helped me cope physically and emotionally with the treatment. I can provide details if you wish, with the caveat that I'm no expert, and you should find a qualified practitioner, but it would give you some ideas and a place to start.

Plaque therapy wasn't the most fun I've ever had in my life, but it was much better than I thought it would be. Deep local anesthesia is so good now, and I reacted very well to it. I had my plaque removed February 24, 2003 and am healing well, if a little more slowly than their "best case" scenario. Next steps are a year of 3-month follow-ups, continued research and networking, long-term lifestyle changes to support immunity and reduce stress, lifetime screening for any signs of metastasis, and learning to live - and thrive - with this disease and all the unknowns. And continuing the OCU-MEL tradition of sharing what I know and learn with those who might need it as much as I did three months ago.

My best to all. I can be contacted through the OCU-MEL list.

Melissa

Update on Melissa Sept. 2006: she's still going strong with no mets.