Today marks my eleventh chemotherapy and ninth radiation treatment. It has almost become too automatic. When Sammi had trouble getting the IV in today, I didn’t even get light headed. After poking around for several minutes, she had to move from the right to the left arm. I didn’t even flinch. For those of you that have been reading this soon to be Pulitzer Prize nominated essay, I started out deathly afraid of needles. Now, it is just a walk in the park. Not sure if it is familiarity or the fact that my level of tolerance has changed since that dreadful night with the catheter. I still get chills when I remember that experience.
For those of you not living in Arizona, we are going through the prettiest stretch of weather we will have all year. It is between 70 and 80 degrees every day and generally very sunny. It is the perfect time for sitting outside and catching a little baseball. As most of you know, I have been addicted to baseball since I was about eight. As a kid, I would memorize the backs of baseball cards. I would play myself on my little baseball action game. I would pitch the little wood baseball with a magnet to my mechanical bat and hope that I would hit a home run and the ball stick to the metal outfield fence. Yes, it is obvious that I was an only child and had no friends. At least I didn’t become a serial killer.
At the age of 56, one of my most favorite things to do is watch either Justin or Jason play baseball. I’ve been pretty lucky over the years as both of the boys are pretty good, so I have always had some things to brag about at work the day after games. This year has been tough as Justin did not make his new high school team after moving from Ohio. Kind of rough when you have been playing varsity since you were a freshman. However, Justin helped me put things into perspective when all of this happened. I’ll never forget what Justin told his coach after he was told he didn’t make the team.
“Coach, as bad as this is, this isn’t the worst thing that has happened to me this week.”
You see, that was the week that Justin found out that both his father and grandmother had cancer. Certainly there are more important things in life than baseball when you come right down to it. Yet, at the same time, I’m not sure what I would do without it. For the last several weeks, I’ve been able to watch Jason play on the freshman team for Hamilton High School, defending big school state champions. He was injured last year and really didn’t get an opportunity to show everyone what he could do. He played quite a bit, but just wasn’t the same.
This year has been different. He is back to being 100% and he has been able to give everyone a little better view of what he is capable of doing. Tonight he actually hit a home run in our last at bat to help win the game. That put a smile on the old man’s face. Although, this might seem trivial in the overall scheme of things, it has really helped me get back to some sense of normalcy. The problem with cancer is that it really does it’s best to take over your life. Since this started, I have had more procedures done and talked to more doctors than I have during the previous 56+ years. You just get numb.
Whenever you go through life changing developments, be it sickness, job loss, divorce or death, you need something to remind you that it is possible to get back to normal at least for a few hours at a time. Thank God for Abner Doubleday and his little invention. Now if I can just get the doctor to let me eat some salted in the shell peanuts, life will be good.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
March 30, 2009 Good as Gold
The other day, I came to the realization that I probably feel better than I have in a long time. I still go through the flu like symptoms that you get with chemo, but generally I feel great.
This all started as I got ready to get on the plane to move to Arizona; I had the misfortune of spraining my knee. For the next several months, I limped around like an old man. Shortly there after, I pulled a muscle in my arm carrying one of my 50 pound luggage bags after one of my return flights from Columbus. (just trying to save a few moving bucks.) That took even longer to get better.
Then, it seemed like my entire upper body was always sore. Nothing in particular, but just soar. I couldn’t lay in bed without hurting somewhere. I just wasn’t healing as fast as I used to and it just stunk. Then Christmas rolled around and my back started killing me. I thought moving to Arizona and getting out of the cold was supposed to make life so much easier. Everything wasn’t bad though as there are a lot more women in short shorts and halter tops, but the aches and pains made me forget why I found that enjoyable. I finally came to the conclusion that I was getting old. I really didn’t like the idea at all.
Then all of a sudden I find out that I have cancer and everything that wasn’t hurting before started hurting. Not sure if it was real or not, but I quickly went from being 56 to 76.
To top things off, I then had to start taking chemotherapy. Now there is a joy. First they stick you with a big old needle and they put some kind of poison into your body. Sounds like a party to me.
However, slowly be surely, some of the aches and pains started to go away. First, I noticed that my back was feeling better. Then the arm stopped hurting. Then the upper body ache went away. Finally after the first round of chemo, I stopped being completely wiped out. Geez, I actually stated feeling like my old self. I could joke around again. I know how everybody misses that.
Chemo is like the new kid at the high school. Nobody really knows them and as a result, bad things are said about them. You don’t even want to talk to them because you have heard so many bad things. Then all of a sudden you get stuck on a project with them and you have to talk to them. After a couple of weeks, you find out that they are not so bad after all and you become friends.
I know that chemo can be very difficult to tolerate. It can be painful and life threatening. But it isn’t always the “bad” new kid. Sometimes it can become your new best friend. I spoke to another chemo recipient the other day and the size of the tumor in his lung has shrunk from three inches to one inch after just two sessions and several smaller tumors have disappeared. The stuff can work. It has become one of my new best friends. Not somebody I would fix a friend up with, but still somebody I would hang around with under the right circumstances. It’s working and I feel great! It would be nice if it worked for everybody.
By the way, I have had a couple people mention to me that they get nervous when I don’t post something for a few days. Please don’t worry. If I don’t have something brilliant to say, I doubt that I will put it down. Now Julia might disagree that I have anything brilliant to say at all, but that is an ongoing discussion. As I told her today, the Pope wouldn’t have asked Michelangelo to doodle at the Sistene Chapel on his off days. For whatever reason she found no correlation.
This all started as I got ready to get on the plane to move to Arizona; I had the misfortune of spraining my knee. For the next several months, I limped around like an old man. Shortly there after, I pulled a muscle in my arm carrying one of my 50 pound luggage bags after one of my return flights from Columbus. (just trying to save a few moving bucks.) That took even longer to get better.
Then, it seemed like my entire upper body was always sore. Nothing in particular, but just soar. I couldn’t lay in bed without hurting somewhere. I just wasn’t healing as fast as I used to and it just stunk. Then Christmas rolled around and my back started killing me. I thought moving to Arizona and getting out of the cold was supposed to make life so much easier. Everything wasn’t bad though as there are a lot more women in short shorts and halter tops, but the aches and pains made me forget why I found that enjoyable. I finally came to the conclusion that I was getting old. I really didn’t like the idea at all.
Then all of a sudden I find out that I have cancer and everything that wasn’t hurting before started hurting. Not sure if it was real or not, but I quickly went from being 56 to 76.
To top things off, I then had to start taking chemotherapy. Now there is a joy. First they stick you with a big old needle and they put some kind of poison into your body. Sounds like a party to me.
However, slowly be surely, some of the aches and pains started to go away. First, I noticed that my back was feeling better. Then the arm stopped hurting. Then the upper body ache went away. Finally after the first round of chemo, I stopped being completely wiped out. Geez, I actually stated feeling like my old self. I could joke around again. I know how everybody misses that.
Chemo is like the new kid at the high school. Nobody really knows them and as a result, bad things are said about them. You don’t even want to talk to them because you have heard so many bad things. Then all of a sudden you get stuck on a project with them and you have to talk to them. After a couple of weeks, you find out that they are not so bad after all and you become friends.
I know that chemo can be very difficult to tolerate. It can be painful and life threatening. But it isn’t always the “bad” new kid. Sometimes it can become your new best friend. I spoke to another chemo recipient the other day and the size of the tumor in his lung has shrunk from three inches to one inch after just two sessions and several smaller tumors have disappeared. The stuff can work. It has become one of my new best friends. Not somebody I would fix a friend up with, but still somebody I would hang around with under the right circumstances. It’s working and I feel great! It would be nice if it worked for everybody.
By the way, I have had a couple people mention to me that they get nervous when I don’t post something for a few days. Please don’t worry. If I don’t have something brilliant to say, I doubt that I will put it down. Now Julia might disagree that I have anything brilliant to say at all, but that is an ongoing discussion. As I told her today, the Pope wouldn’t have asked Michelangelo to doodle at the Sistene Chapel on his off days. For whatever reason she found no correlation.
Friday, March 27, 2009
March 26, 2009 The Funeral Mass
Today wasn’t supposed to be anything special, but it certainly ended up being one to remember. Since I just had my sixth radiation run today and nothing else, it wasn’t going to be a day driven by the normal trips to the doctor, but I’m not so sure it was all that easy.
Julia had an out-patient procedure done this morning. (Don’t worry, she’s great.) It gave me a little opportunity to be on the other side of the IV for a change. It certainly didn’t make it any easier. If fact, I think it is easier for me being the one under scrutiny. I tend to be a worry wart and just knowing that she would be under anesthesia made me a little squirmy. Luckily, everything went very quickly and very well and I didn’t have to sweat bullets for very long.
We had to be at the hospital at 7 AM and they took Julia in fairly quickly. I brought my laptop to get a little work done. As I do every morning before I get going I took the opportunity to check out the Dayton Daily News. You just never know when something important might be happening with the Flyers, Reds or Browns. To my surprise, on the front page was an article about one of my “Cancer Clan” (March 6, 2009).
http://www.daytondailynews.com/o/content/oh/story/opinions/columns/2009/03/26/ddn032609dale.html
In reading the article, there was one sentence that really jumped out at me because it really was a topic that had never been discussed with any of my doctors.
“The average life expectancy is four to seven years.”
Ouch. There was a real slap in the face. When you get cancer, you know that the clock is ticking. However, you often don’t know how long you may have. After reading that sentence, the ticks seem a little louder.
The thing I have going for me is my age and overall health. Since this is an old person’s disease (generally), I feel like I can beat that number. Don’t give me a challenge, I get pretty stubborn when somebody tells me I can’t do something. Just ask Julia. Well, maybe it would be better if you didn’t. Just pretend you didn’t read that last sentence.
After getting Julia home and snuggled up in bed, I took off for the Funeral Mass of the grandfather of a good friend of mine at Isagenix. I never had the pleasure of meeting Lupe, but from all accounts he was a nice man that probably didn’t have many stops on the way to heaven after he passed. However, this was my first funeral after my diagnosis.
Boy, talk about a different level of scrutiny. I’ve never paid so close attention to what was said and sung during the mass. All of a sudden, when they brought the casket down the main isle, it was difficult not putting myself in his place. What would my funeral be like? What would people think and say? Would all of the waitresses from Hooters come to say their last goodbye?
It was hard. My eyes filled with tears more than I care to think about. I know I’m going to beat this, but when you can even faintly hear the tick, tick, tick, everything is looked at a little differently. It makes you appreciate the things that you have been blessed with and make sure you say the things to people that you should have said all along. There is no time to waste anymore, I know that. Make sure you appreciate what you have and spend less time watching reruns, I know I have.
Julia had an out-patient procedure done this morning. (Don’t worry, she’s great.) It gave me a little opportunity to be on the other side of the IV for a change. It certainly didn’t make it any easier. If fact, I think it is easier for me being the one under scrutiny. I tend to be a worry wart and just knowing that she would be under anesthesia made me a little squirmy. Luckily, everything went very quickly and very well and I didn’t have to sweat bullets for very long.
We had to be at the hospital at 7 AM and they took Julia in fairly quickly. I brought my laptop to get a little work done. As I do every morning before I get going I took the opportunity to check out the Dayton Daily News. You just never know when something important might be happening with the Flyers, Reds or Browns. To my surprise, on the front page was an article about one of my “Cancer Clan” (March 6, 2009).
http://www.daytondailynews.com/o/content/oh/story/opinions/columns/2009/03/26/ddn032609dale.html
In reading the article, there was one sentence that really jumped out at me because it really was a topic that had never been discussed with any of my doctors.
“The average life expectancy is four to seven years.”
Ouch. There was a real slap in the face. When you get cancer, you know that the clock is ticking. However, you often don’t know how long you may have. After reading that sentence, the ticks seem a little louder.
The thing I have going for me is my age and overall health. Since this is an old person’s disease (generally), I feel like I can beat that number. Don’t give me a challenge, I get pretty stubborn when somebody tells me I can’t do something. Just ask Julia. Well, maybe it would be better if you didn’t. Just pretend you didn’t read that last sentence.
After getting Julia home and snuggled up in bed, I took off for the Funeral Mass of the grandfather of a good friend of mine at Isagenix. I never had the pleasure of meeting Lupe, but from all accounts he was a nice man that probably didn’t have many stops on the way to heaven after he passed. However, this was my first funeral after my diagnosis.
Boy, talk about a different level of scrutiny. I’ve never paid so close attention to what was said and sung during the mass. All of a sudden, when they brought the casket down the main isle, it was difficult not putting myself in his place. What would my funeral be like? What would people think and say? Would all of the waitresses from Hooters come to say their last goodbye?
It was hard. My eyes filled with tears more than I care to think about. I know I’m going to beat this, but when you can even faintly hear the tick, tick, tick, everything is looked at a little differently. It makes you appreciate the things that you have been blessed with and make sure you say the things to people that you should have said all along. There is no time to waste anymore, I know that. Make sure you appreciate what you have and spend less time watching reruns, I know I have.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
March 24, 2009 Trifecta
Quite a day today, three doctor visits and chemo and radiation.
The day started with a visit with my oncologist, Dr. Obenchain. This was probably the biggest visit of the three because I would get new results for the blood that was taken Friday. This one was different from most in that it would also look at what was going on with the cancer cells. Not sure why they need five vials of blood, but once they poke the hole, what’s the difference?
Needless to say, the results were probably a little better than even I expected. Since Julia had been out of town for over a week, I had to be my only policeman as far as what I ate. I really took a different approach and I have now dropped the term “splurge” from my vocabulary.
When I would splurge on Sunday night, I really hadn’t been doing things that were out of the diet. When I would have extra salt, I still made sure that I still kept it under 2000 mg. When I had pizza, I limited how much I had to keep the tomato and milk input low enough. I found that we were probably being a little too limited on what I was eating. In fact, there were probably some days where I did not hit the lower limit on how much sodium that I needed to have. As a result, I took a little more liberal interpretation of the rules we were following. I would still stay within the guidelines but a little closer (ok, guardian angel, a lot closer) to the upper limits.
As a result, I was a little concerned that I might have gone with the devil too much and the little angel was going to get me back. I was thrilled to find that Dr. Obenchain had highlighted a number of items on the blood work-up and they were all good. My creatinine was down to 2.3. This is a huge drop of 0.4 in ten days. I have now dropped from 3.8 with a goal of 1.0. A normal person has a creatinine level of 0.8 to 1.5 so I am getting close. This is the best indicator of how my kidneys are functioning. I’ve gone from 10% to probably somewhere near 40% functionality.
The rest of the labs were also pretty good with all of the items (sodium, calcium, phosphate and potassium) that were dangerously out of line all ok. The other biggie was the indicator of cancer cells. This was the first time that this was run. All indicators are showing the number of cancer cells is down. It isn’t as dead on as a bone marrow biopsy would be, but I’m not in any hurry to do another one of those. So things look great.
I then went to chemo. It was pretty easy as usual. I’m off Doxil for the time being because of the radiation. As a result, I’m just taking Velcade, which is the easier of the two, but probably the one that is doing all of the work. Got to see Jerri and Sammi, of course, and that always brightens up my day.
Immediately left the hospital and went up to Scottsdale to see the nephrologist. Couldn’t wait for this meeting. After he saw the test results, he was smiling ear to ear. Dr. Hogan is a straight shooter and what comes from his mouth is the truth and not sugar coated. I really like the guy. He said that the improvement that I am showing is fantastic. This 0.4 jump was huge. A 0.4 jump when I was at 3.8 would not have been considered big, but one from 2.7 to 2.3 is.
It took me about 30 seconds to ask the most important question that I could think of. It wasn’t, “Does this mean that my kidneys are getting back to normal?” Or “Does it look like the chemo is doing its job?” No, it was, “Can I have salsa for lunch?” He smiled and said, “Yes.”
I splurged with salsa and a burro at lunch, my first real Mexican in two months. Darn, I used that word again.
It was then off to radiation and the last doctor visit. The radiation is pretty quick and now that I have discovered a way to keep my privates private, it’s going great. Four down, 21 to go.
We then met with Dr. Chan, the radiologist. He was extremely happy with the results that I am seeing so far. I don’t even limp anymore. Not sure why this is going to take 21 more visits, but he’s the boss.
Finally on the way home and an opportunity to get a little rest so I can actually show my face at work tomorrow.
The day started with a visit with my oncologist, Dr. Obenchain. This was probably the biggest visit of the three because I would get new results for the blood that was taken Friday. This one was different from most in that it would also look at what was going on with the cancer cells. Not sure why they need five vials of blood, but once they poke the hole, what’s the difference?
Needless to say, the results were probably a little better than even I expected. Since Julia had been out of town for over a week, I had to be my only policeman as far as what I ate. I really took a different approach and I have now dropped the term “splurge” from my vocabulary.
When I would splurge on Sunday night, I really hadn’t been doing things that were out of the diet. When I would have extra salt, I still made sure that I still kept it under 2000 mg. When I had pizza, I limited how much I had to keep the tomato and milk input low enough. I found that we were probably being a little too limited on what I was eating. In fact, there were probably some days where I did not hit the lower limit on how much sodium that I needed to have. As a result, I took a little more liberal interpretation of the rules we were following. I would still stay within the guidelines but a little closer (ok, guardian angel, a lot closer) to the upper limits.
As a result, I was a little concerned that I might have gone with the devil too much and the little angel was going to get me back. I was thrilled to find that Dr. Obenchain had highlighted a number of items on the blood work-up and they were all good. My creatinine was down to 2.3. This is a huge drop of 0.4 in ten days. I have now dropped from 3.8 with a goal of 1.0. A normal person has a creatinine level of 0.8 to 1.5 so I am getting close. This is the best indicator of how my kidneys are functioning. I’ve gone from 10% to probably somewhere near 40% functionality.
The rest of the labs were also pretty good with all of the items (sodium, calcium, phosphate and potassium) that were dangerously out of line all ok. The other biggie was the indicator of cancer cells. This was the first time that this was run. All indicators are showing the number of cancer cells is down. It isn’t as dead on as a bone marrow biopsy would be, but I’m not in any hurry to do another one of those. So things look great.
I then went to chemo. It was pretty easy as usual. I’m off Doxil for the time being because of the radiation. As a result, I’m just taking Velcade, which is the easier of the two, but probably the one that is doing all of the work. Got to see Jerri and Sammi, of course, and that always brightens up my day.
Immediately left the hospital and went up to Scottsdale to see the nephrologist. Couldn’t wait for this meeting. After he saw the test results, he was smiling ear to ear. Dr. Hogan is a straight shooter and what comes from his mouth is the truth and not sugar coated. I really like the guy. He said that the improvement that I am showing is fantastic. This 0.4 jump was huge. A 0.4 jump when I was at 3.8 would not have been considered big, but one from 2.7 to 2.3 is.
It took me about 30 seconds to ask the most important question that I could think of. It wasn’t, “Does this mean that my kidneys are getting back to normal?” Or “Does it look like the chemo is doing its job?” No, it was, “Can I have salsa for lunch?” He smiled and said, “Yes.”
I splurged with salsa and a burro at lunch, my first real Mexican in two months. Darn, I used that word again.
It was then off to radiation and the last doctor visit. The radiation is pretty quick and now that I have discovered a way to keep my privates private, it’s going great. Four down, 21 to go.
We then met with Dr. Chan, the radiologist. He was extremely happy with the results that I am seeing so far. I don’t even limp anymore. Not sure why this is going to take 21 more visits, but he’s the boss.
Finally on the way home and an opportunity to get a little rest so I can actually show my face at work tomorrow.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
March 19, 2009 Nudity at it’s Best
It has been a rather uneventful week which is nice for a change. With no chemo this week, I’m much less tired and actually having a little trouble sleeping. I was originally scheduled to start my radiation treatments for the back pain on Tuesday, but Dr. Chan didn’t get his act together and we didn’t get scheduled until noon today. I have to go in at 4:45 AM tomorrow because my beloved Flyers are playing in the NCAA and nothing, repeat nothing, gets between me and my Flyers.
As always, I got to the doctor’s office about 15 minutes early and had to wait an additional 15 minutes before they called me back. With all of the procedures that I have gotten to experience over the last two months I have gotten pretty used to dropping any level of modesty that I might have had. Yet, today topped all of my earlier exploits.
I walk in the room with the equipment and I am joined by one male and three female technicians. Not sure why they all had to join me, but I’m obviously pretty important or just a guinea pig. They tell me top drop both my pants and underwear. They only cover that I get are two hand towels that two of the women hold about six inches from the exposed areas. Needless to say, getting on the table for the treatment was a joy as what little cover that I had vanished. Once again, none of the women seem either frightened or pleased. Not sure about the guy.
I then got to lay on the hard as nails table as they again took a scan and again marked me with magic markers in three spots. With my posterior exposed to the world I lay there for the next 35 minutes without moving a muscle. I started to get a little cramp in my back but was able to make it through. The surprise that I got when they were done was that they not only did the scan but also the treatment while I was lying there. It was that easy.
After sitting up and once again with little or no cover, I was able to get everything back in order and walk out with a little self respect in hand.
As always, I got to the doctor’s office about 15 minutes early and had to wait an additional 15 minutes before they called me back. With all of the procedures that I have gotten to experience over the last two months I have gotten pretty used to dropping any level of modesty that I might have had. Yet, today topped all of my earlier exploits.
I walk in the room with the equipment and I am joined by one male and three female technicians. Not sure why they all had to join me, but I’m obviously pretty important or just a guinea pig. They tell me top drop both my pants and underwear. They only cover that I get are two hand towels that two of the women hold about six inches from the exposed areas. Needless to say, getting on the table for the treatment was a joy as what little cover that I had vanished. Once again, none of the women seem either frightened or pleased. Not sure about the guy.
I then got to lay on the hard as nails table as they again took a scan and again marked me with magic markers in three spots. With my posterior exposed to the world I lay there for the next 35 minutes without moving a muscle. I started to get a little cramp in my back but was able to make it through. The surprise that I got when they were done was that they not only did the scan but also the treatment while I was lying there. It was that easy.
After sitting up and once again with little or no cover, I was able to get everything back in order and walk out with a little self respect in hand.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
March 13, 2009 Ouch
This seemed to be the week that my treatments caught up with me. Just felt lousy all week. Still trying to regulate the flow of waste material through my body as it has seemed to make a 180 degree change by the end of the week. After surviving Monday, I don’t ever want to experience that again so I have become more than a bit paranoid. I have stopped taking my pain medication as it might be adding to the constipation problem. My back has gotten better, but having the ability to almost completely take care of the pain was nice. Guess I’ll just have to suck it up a bit.
I’ve completed two complete rounds of chemotherapy now which is nice. I might be as much as half way through which is comforting. Although this hasn’t been as bad as it could have been, I will feel a lot better then I’m off the stuff. I have to have my own bathroom because of the potential danger to my fellow housemates. Not exactly reassuring.
In my eight trips to get chemo I have become friends with the two ladies that do the administering. Sammi (sp?) and Jerri are both very nice and do everything that they can to make me comfortable. If you remember when I started all of this, we had to do a switch because Jerri was having difficulty getting the IV started. Since that time Sammi has become my designated “sticker.”
She has actually added a couple of shifts just so she could be there when I come in because she understands my queasiness about needles. She denies this, but I’m not sure I believe her.
After Sammi got it started on Friday, she needed to make a medicine run over at the hospital (which is just next door) so Jerri and I had a chance to chat for a while as I was the only one in the room. It seems that Jerri has just recently returned to working directly with patients. It wasn’t that long ago that one of her patients had passed away after a two year battle with cancer. She was a woman in her thirties what had just given birth shortly before she found out she had cancer.
She and Jerri had become close during their time together and Jerri took her loss rather hard. One of the problems with working in the medical profession is the potential of having to deal with death on a frequent basis. It really makes you appreciate what these people do and how much it can affect them in their own lives.
Jerri and Sammi deal with dozens of people like me everyday yet do it with a smile that belies each of our possible fates. Sammi is so careful when she sticks me and her little “ouch” she says softly each time she sticks an IV in me tells me that it might actually hurt her more than me. Jerri is always ready to give me a hug when I leave and makes sure I have something to drink at all times. It’s obvious that the two ladies love their life work as well as the people that they try to help save. It’s also very obvious to me just how special these two people are.
I’ve completed two complete rounds of chemotherapy now which is nice. I might be as much as half way through which is comforting. Although this hasn’t been as bad as it could have been, I will feel a lot better then I’m off the stuff. I have to have my own bathroom because of the potential danger to my fellow housemates. Not exactly reassuring.
In my eight trips to get chemo I have become friends with the two ladies that do the administering. Sammi (sp?) and Jerri are both very nice and do everything that they can to make me comfortable. If you remember when I started all of this, we had to do a switch because Jerri was having difficulty getting the IV started. Since that time Sammi has become my designated “sticker.”
She has actually added a couple of shifts just so she could be there when I come in because she understands my queasiness about needles. She denies this, but I’m not sure I believe her.
After Sammi got it started on Friday, she needed to make a medicine run over at the hospital (which is just next door) so Jerri and I had a chance to chat for a while as I was the only one in the room. It seems that Jerri has just recently returned to working directly with patients. It wasn’t that long ago that one of her patients had passed away after a two year battle with cancer. She was a woman in her thirties what had just given birth shortly before she found out she had cancer.
She and Jerri had become close during their time together and Jerri took her loss rather hard. One of the problems with working in the medical profession is the potential of having to deal with death on a frequent basis. It really makes you appreciate what these people do and how much it can affect them in their own lives.
Jerri and Sammi deal with dozens of people like me everyday yet do it with a smile that belies each of our possible fates. Sammi is so careful when she sticks me and her little “ouch” she says softly each time she sticks an IV in me tells me that it might actually hurt her more than me. Jerri is always ready to give me a hug when I leave and makes sure I have something to drink at all times. It’s obvious that the two ladies love their life work as well as the people that they try to help save. It’s also very obvious to me just how special these two people are.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
March 9, 2009 The $5,000 Enema
I am not what you would call an overly religious guy, but I have been a Catholic my entire life and I do my best to lead my life as a believer. I have certainly believed in Heaven and to a lesser extent, Hell. If there is a Hell, I have always believed that Hell is different to all of us. In my mind, Hell is a place that you will have to relive your greatest fear, over and over. After last night, I am certain that if I should misstep, the die has been caste and I know what my eternal punishment will be.
I firmly believe that should I go to Hell when I die, I will have to experience the pain and humiliation of having a catheter put in place and removed on an hourly basis. I feel pretty sure of this after the latest adventure of my soon to be victory over cancer.
It was one of those days at work that I knew wouldn’t last long. As I mentioned last week, the only real problem other than being tired is being constipated. Like last week, it has such again. Again this week I have started utilizing the prescription that Dr. Obenchain gave me to loosen the stool. However, this time it didn’t seem to be working. By 11:30, I had had enough. I went home, took another shot of the stuff and prayed. However, as the day went on, things just seemed to get worse and the pain increased significantly.
After coming to the conclusion at about 7PM that I now was not passing any urine, it was time to call the doctor. After a lengthy conversation with Dr. Obenchain, it was decided that I would go to the Emergency Room. Within 90 minutes, I had a CT scan, a set of x-rays, a blood test and the before mentioned catheter.
I must admit that this was something that I was not looking forward to, but thought I could handle it. Falling back on my doctor experience from “House”, I realized that there would be some “pressure” involved in getting this done, but I wasn’t a five year old, I could deal with a little bit of “pressure.” Obviously, my definition of “pressure” is different than others. Hopefully, God understands the new set of nouns and adjectives that I put together as the technician (who loves doing code blues) decided to put 2 feet of heavy duty cable in a place that God never intended it to go. I’m sorry, but this is a one way street.
I’m sure the people outside the room must have thought that I was a rather low voiced woman giving birth to a rather large child without any drugs. This was not my proudest moment in life, however, I did survive it.
As quickly as all of that happened, the rest of the night took another turn. We waited and waited and waited. We started waiting at 9:30 and didn’t see a doctor until after 1:30. It was finally decided that they would move forward with the enema. We were then moved to a private room with a restroom. The nurse then began running around putting the magic potion together that would ultimately save my life. After waiting for a few minutes I spoke word s that I had never envisioned. “I can’t wait until I get this enema.” These are words a man should never string together in the same sentence.
I’ll save you all the gory details of the next half hour, but suffice it to say, I survived the ordeal and made it back home by 3:00 AM. Sad thing was, I was still in a good deal of discomfort, but managed to get a couple hours of sleep before we had to leave for my 8:00 AM chemo appointment, The good thing that came out of all of this is the fact that I received some more good results on my blood test. Most items are in line and my creatinine was down to 2.7 which represents another nice drop.
I firmly believe that should I go to Hell when I die, I will have to experience the pain and humiliation of having a catheter put in place and removed on an hourly basis. I feel pretty sure of this after the latest adventure of my soon to be victory over cancer.
It was one of those days at work that I knew wouldn’t last long. As I mentioned last week, the only real problem other than being tired is being constipated. Like last week, it has such again. Again this week I have started utilizing the prescription that Dr. Obenchain gave me to loosen the stool. However, this time it didn’t seem to be working. By 11:30, I had had enough. I went home, took another shot of the stuff and prayed. However, as the day went on, things just seemed to get worse and the pain increased significantly.
After coming to the conclusion at about 7PM that I now was not passing any urine, it was time to call the doctor. After a lengthy conversation with Dr. Obenchain, it was decided that I would go to the Emergency Room. Within 90 minutes, I had a CT scan, a set of x-rays, a blood test and the before mentioned catheter.
I must admit that this was something that I was not looking forward to, but thought I could handle it. Falling back on my doctor experience from “House”, I realized that there would be some “pressure” involved in getting this done, but I wasn’t a five year old, I could deal with a little bit of “pressure.” Obviously, my definition of “pressure” is different than others. Hopefully, God understands the new set of nouns and adjectives that I put together as the technician (who loves doing code blues) decided to put 2 feet of heavy duty cable in a place that God never intended it to go. I’m sorry, but this is a one way street.
I’m sure the people outside the room must have thought that I was a rather low voiced woman giving birth to a rather large child without any drugs. This was not my proudest moment in life, however, I did survive it.
As quickly as all of that happened, the rest of the night took another turn. We waited and waited and waited. We started waiting at 9:30 and didn’t see a doctor until after 1:30. It was finally decided that they would move forward with the enema. We were then moved to a private room with a restroom. The nurse then began running around putting the magic potion together that would ultimately save my life. After waiting for a few minutes I spoke word s that I had never envisioned. “I can’t wait until I get this enema.” These are words a man should never string together in the same sentence.
I’ll save you all the gory details of the next half hour, but suffice it to say, I survived the ordeal and made it back home by 3:00 AM. Sad thing was, I was still in a good deal of discomfort, but managed to get a couple hours of sleep before we had to leave for my 8:00 AM chemo appointment, The good thing that came out of all of this is the fact that I received some more good results on my blood test. Most items are in line and my creatinine was down to 2.7 which represents another nice drop.
Monday, March 9, 2009
March 8, 2009 Best Friends
It was just a hair over 30 years ago that I met Terry Quinn. I had just started a new job and in the cubicle next to me was a single guy in my age range. Perfect, a wingman for Monday night Ladies Night at Max and Erma’s. I’d been single for about seven months and I had yet to find the right guy to help me find the next Mrs. Churan. Little did I know that he would be far more than a wingman.
I have tried to find the right words to describe Terry Quinn, but I’m not sure the right words have yet been created. Terry cannot be summed up in a few words or even a few paragraphs. He’s the kind of guy that you can always count on as a friend but at the same time he isn’t going to pull any punches. If you tried wearing a slightly too tight shirt out to the Disco and it makes you look ridiculous, he’s the kind of guy that will take pleasure in letting you know about your escape from the fashion police.
A side of Terry that most people aren’t familiar with is the charitable part of his life. A number of years ago, a son of one of his employees tragically died after getting hit in the chest with a baseball during a game. Terry very quickly put in place a program where he made available heart protectors for every child in Westerville that wanted one. This was not the only time that Terry helped employees during their time of need even though he never made a big deal of it. Terry has also been very generous to the OSU Hospital over the years.
However, the side of Terry that I will always remember is the more loony side. I don’t have enough time here to talk about all of the crazy things that Terry has done to make someone laugh but my favorite of all was shortly after Julia and I purchased a hot tub. We decided to have a “Hot Tub Party” inviting several people over to the house for drinks, snacks and a dip in the tub. I’ll never forget answering the door and Terry is standing there in a full wet suit with fins, goggles and snorkel gear. I’m not even going to mention the time that he shaved off half of his mustache before a first date with a young lady. Whatever it took to make people laugh, he was willing to try.
We only have one or two opportunities in life to have a best friend. Terry has been that important part of my life since that first day on our way to Max and Erma’s. Sadly, Terry is not only my best friend but also my best friend with cancer. For the last eight or nine months we have had weekly conversations about how he doing in his fight. Now I use him as my crutch and teacher on how to fight the battle.
Some of you have asked about the title of my blog, “Just Take an Hour.” In many ways it is about Terry. You see, Terry has always been a hard worker spending 60-70 hours working every week for the last 30 years. Too many, in fact, to get a yearly physical. We have lamented that fact many times on the phone over the last few months because Terry now knows that if he had done that, he might have caught his cancer at an earlier stage, a more treatable stage. I was a little more lucky having found my cancer during my annual check-up. As a result, I am doing my best to get everyone that I know to get a check up annually because it only takes an hour and may save your life. If there is one message that I hope you take away from my writings is just that. Please take care of yourself and friends and see a doctor annually, it just takes an hour.
Terry is doing everything that he can to try to win this fight of fights. He has done chemotherapy, hormone treatments and now radiation. Some have helped, others have not. Yet, everyday he does everything he can to make it one more day. I’m sure part of that is because he knows I desperately need him to get better. I know I’ll never have another best friend like Terry.
Please say a prayer for Terry and everyone else of my cancer buddies as we fight everyday to get better.
I have tried to find the right words to describe Terry Quinn, but I’m not sure the right words have yet been created. Terry cannot be summed up in a few words or even a few paragraphs. He’s the kind of guy that you can always count on as a friend but at the same time he isn’t going to pull any punches. If you tried wearing a slightly too tight shirt out to the Disco and it makes you look ridiculous, he’s the kind of guy that will take pleasure in letting you know about your escape from the fashion police.
A side of Terry that most people aren’t familiar with is the charitable part of his life. A number of years ago, a son of one of his employees tragically died after getting hit in the chest with a baseball during a game. Terry very quickly put in place a program where he made available heart protectors for every child in Westerville that wanted one. This was not the only time that Terry helped employees during their time of need even though he never made a big deal of it. Terry has also been very generous to the OSU Hospital over the years.
However, the side of Terry that I will always remember is the more loony side. I don’t have enough time here to talk about all of the crazy things that Terry has done to make someone laugh but my favorite of all was shortly after Julia and I purchased a hot tub. We decided to have a “Hot Tub Party” inviting several people over to the house for drinks, snacks and a dip in the tub. I’ll never forget answering the door and Terry is standing there in a full wet suit with fins, goggles and snorkel gear. I’m not even going to mention the time that he shaved off half of his mustache before a first date with a young lady. Whatever it took to make people laugh, he was willing to try.
We only have one or two opportunities in life to have a best friend. Terry has been that important part of my life since that first day on our way to Max and Erma’s. Sadly, Terry is not only my best friend but also my best friend with cancer. For the last eight or nine months we have had weekly conversations about how he doing in his fight. Now I use him as my crutch and teacher on how to fight the battle.
Some of you have asked about the title of my blog, “Just Take an Hour.” In many ways it is about Terry. You see, Terry has always been a hard worker spending 60-70 hours working every week for the last 30 years. Too many, in fact, to get a yearly physical. We have lamented that fact many times on the phone over the last few months because Terry now knows that if he had done that, he might have caught his cancer at an earlier stage, a more treatable stage. I was a little more lucky having found my cancer during my annual check-up. As a result, I am doing my best to get everyone that I know to get a check up annually because it only takes an hour and may save your life. If there is one message that I hope you take away from my writings is just that. Please take care of yourself and friends and see a doctor annually, it just takes an hour.
Terry is doing everything that he can to try to win this fight of fights. He has done chemotherapy, hormone treatments and now radiation. Some have helped, others have not. Yet, everyday he does everything he can to make it one more day. I’m sure part of that is because he knows I desperately need him to get better. I know I’ll never have another best friend like Terry.
Please say a prayer for Terry and everyone else of my cancer buddies as we fight everyday to get better.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
March 6, 2009 The Cancer Clan
For those of you that have been reading this blog, you have probably found that it is a little self centered. You have to remember that I am an only child and I reserve the right to act that way. However, there have been a number of people behind the scenes that have helped me get through this so far. Certainly, my family gets high marks for their continued efforts, especially Julia who has to put up with my whining most of the time. Today is being set aside for some of the other people in my life that have made this a little easier.
Right off the top, I have to give kudos to my boss, Kevin, and the rest of those at Isagenix. They have been as understanding as any group of people can be. There is no questioning of where I am or where I am going nearly everyday as I walk out the door for yet another doctor visit. It has been made very clear to me that they want me around for a while and not to push myself. Not sure what I’d do without that backing and caring.
Of course, there have been so many cards, emails and telephone calls from so many of my friends that I can’t even begin to address. Several of our friends in the neighborhood wanted to bring over meals for us when this first started that we would not have had to worry about the next meal for weeks. However, when told of my special diet they decided that gift cards for the boys would work out even better. Now, when Julia and I have late doctor appointments, the boys can just grab a card to Chinese or Mexican and we don’t have to worry about throwing something together for them when we get home. (By, we, I mean Julia.)
But over and above all of this are my special “cancer” friends. It seems that I am not alone in this dreadful fight and having someone there to talk to that is going through the same thing always makes it a little easier.
One of the first that I talked to was Terry M. from Abbott where I worked for 30 years. Terry has been fighting multiple myeloma now for eight years and is currently in remission. He started this battle back when there were virtually no drugs for fighting the disease. I’m much luckier in that there are at least 20 with more on the way. Certainly, his insight helped me get through the first few hundred questions.
Some of you know that I write for an internet site that follows University of Dayton sports. I’ve been writing for that site for almost ten years with articles ranging from the pain felt when one of my favorite players lost his life to when Jason was five and he wanted to devour everything in sight while at a game. I wrote an article about a month ago that touched on the value of getting a physical and through that article (udpride.com) , I met Steve who is also fighting the disease. Great to talk with someone that is fighting the same kidney problems that I am and also into remission.
Since both of my parents have been gone for many years, I have become close to Julia’s family over the last 22 years. My favorite, of course, is my fellow out-law, Fran (Julia’s mother). If any of you know the Millers, you will understand that there is a lot of commonality up and down the Miller family. Fran and I really tend to stick out, but we tend to be a lot alike. I’m afraid a little too alike in that Fran found out that she had cancer 4 days after I did. Since that time, we have had our mutual pep talks and both remain positive about where we are going with this and how we are going to beat it.
How can I talk about anything in my life without bringing up baseball. For the last 10 years, baseball has pretty much decided what we do with our free time. Last year, when Jason and I were in Arizona by ourselves, I had an opportunity to meet a number of great parents from Jason’s summer baseball team. Although I have been considered one of the team moms by many, I really am a dad and struck up a friendship with Jay, one of Jason’s teammates’ dad. Jay is one of those guys that forgot to age which is what I like about him. He sometimes acts as though he were still 12. He thinks he has an arm as good as his son’s but one thing I don’t have to worry about is getting hit with a French Fry when Jay starts up one of his food fights. Sadly, Jay is also fighting the effects of cancer. Nice to have someone to kid with when you are facing a challenge like this.
I’ve gone a little long today and really have one more friend that I need to talk about, but I’m going to save that for tomorrow. See you then.
Right off the top, I have to give kudos to my boss, Kevin, and the rest of those at Isagenix. They have been as understanding as any group of people can be. There is no questioning of where I am or where I am going nearly everyday as I walk out the door for yet another doctor visit. It has been made very clear to me that they want me around for a while and not to push myself. Not sure what I’d do without that backing and caring.
Of course, there have been so many cards, emails and telephone calls from so many of my friends that I can’t even begin to address. Several of our friends in the neighborhood wanted to bring over meals for us when this first started that we would not have had to worry about the next meal for weeks. However, when told of my special diet they decided that gift cards for the boys would work out even better. Now, when Julia and I have late doctor appointments, the boys can just grab a card to Chinese or Mexican and we don’t have to worry about throwing something together for them when we get home. (By, we, I mean Julia.)
But over and above all of this are my special “cancer” friends. It seems that I am not alone in this dreadful fight and having someone there to talk to that is going through the same thing always makes it a little easier.
One of the first that I talked to was Terry M. from Abbott where I worked for 30 years. Terry has been fighting multiple myeloma now for eight years and is currently in remission. He started this battle back when there were virtually no drugs for fighting the disease. I’m much luckier in that there are at least 20 with more on the way. Certainly, his insight helped me get through the first few hundred questions.
Some of you know that I write for an internet site that follows University of Dayton sports. I’ve been writing for that site for almost ten years with articles ranging from the pain felt when one of my favorite players lost his life to when Jason was five and he wanted to devour everything in sight while at a game. I wrote an article about a month ago that touched on the value of getting a physical and through that article (udpride.com) , I met Steve who is also fighting the disease. Great to talk with someone that is fighting the same kidney problems that I am and also into remission.
Since both of my parents have been gone for many years, I have become close to Julia’s family over the last 22 years. My favorite, of course, is my fellow out-law, Fran (Julia’s mother). If any of you know the Millers, you will understand that there is a lot of commonality up and down the Miller family. Fran and I really tend to stick out, but we tend to be a lot alike. I’m afraid a little too alike in that Fran found out that she had cancer 4 days after I did. Since that time, we have had our mutual pep talks and both remain positive about where we are going with this and how we are going to beat it.
How can I talk about anything in my life without bringing up baseball. For the last 10 years, baseball has pretty much decided what we do with our free time. Last year, when Jason and I were in Arizona by ourselves, I had an opportunity to meet a number of great parents from Jason’s summer baseball team. Although I have been considered one of the team moms by many, I really am a dad and struck up a friendship with Jay, one of Jason’s teammates’ dad. Jay is one of those guys that forgot to age which is what I like about him. He sometimes acts as though he were still 12. He thinks he has an arm as good as his son’s but one thing I don’t have to worry about is getting hit with a French Fry when Jay starts up one of his food fights. Sadly, Jay is also fighting the effects of cancer. Nice to have someone to kid with when you are facing a challenge like this.
I’ve gone a little long today and really have one more friend that I need to talk about, but I’m going to save that for tomorrow. See you then.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
March 5, 2009 - Cheap Thrills
The week of doctor visits/tests/chemo continues as I had to get a CAT scan for the upcoming radiation treatments. Another non-evasive test, so no big deal other than I had to drop trow in front of the technician. She then had to put semi-permanent markings on my hips and butt so that they know where they are going when they start the radiation. I haven’t had a woman (non-wife, of course) grab my butt that much in a long time.
It looks like they won’t start the treatment until March 17 so I somehow have to keep the tape/marks in place until that time. So much for the nude sunbathing in the back yard.
It looks like they won’t start the treatment until March 17 so I somehow have to keep the tape/marks in place until that time. So much for the nude sunbathing in the back yard.
March 4, 2009 - John, MD, NOT
Well, it didn’t take long for cancer to remind me that it wasn’t some pushover and this fight would not be easily won. This fight has really been pretty easy for me so far. Other than having to give up every food that I like and wanting to sleep all of the time, it really hasn’t been so bad. I’m afraid that I started believing the press clippings and not giving cancer enough credit. I got a little slap in the face today that reminded me that nothing is easy in life, especially when you are fighting a foe as difficult as cancer.
Julia and I met with a Radiologist to discuss the possibility of utilizing radiation to alleviate the pain that I have had in my back and leg. Both of my oncologists suggest this as an approach that could take care of the only real pain that I have had to face thus far. Dr. Chan was highly recommended by Dr. Obenchain and we both found him very likeable and more importantly knowledgeable.
However, he provided the slap in the face that I needed to remind me that this was not going to be a walk in the park. You would think that I would have been smarter that this having watched Dr. Kildare, Medical Center, Marcus Welby, Chicago Hope and ER for so many years, but somehow I had convinced myself that this radiation thing would be a one or two shot deal and I’d be walking like a champ 15 minutes later. Apparently, I wasn’t even as smart as an actor that had played a doctor on TV. I am looking at having 5 weeks of daily radiation treatments. Luckily, doctors don’t work on weekends so I just have 25 sessions.
Twenty-five times I have to drive up to Scottsdale to get zapped. It might even be more if he finds other bones that he wants to fix. Julia certainly isn’t going to have trouble finding me in the dark if this keeps up. I’ll either be glowing or will be able to be found with a Geiger counter.
Julia and I met with a Radiologist to discuss the possibility of utilizing radiation to alleviate the pain that I have had in my back and leg. Both of my oncologists suggest this as an approach that could take care of the only real pain that I have had to face thus far. Dr. Chan was highly recommended by Dr. Obenchain and we both found him very likeable and more importantly knowledgeable.
However, he provided the slap in the face that I needed to remind me that this was not going to be a walk in the park. You would think that I would have been smarter that this having watched Dr. Kildare, Medical Center, Marcus Welby, Chicago Hope and ER for so many years, but somehow I had convinced myself that this radiation thing would be a one or two shot deal and I’d be walking like a champ 15 minutes later. Apparently, I wasn’t even as smart as an actor that had played a doctor on TV. I am looking at having 5 weeks of daily radiation treatments. Luckily, doctors don’t work on weekends so I just have 25 sessions.
Twenty-five times I have to drive up to Scottsdale to get zapped. It might even be more if he finds other bones that he wants to fix. Julia certainly isn’t going to have trouble finding me in the dark if this keeps up. I’ll either be glowing or will be able to be found with a Geiger counter.
March 3, 2009 - Bring It On
Boy, I hope I don’t regret this in the future, but I’m starting to feel a little cocky. Those of you that are sports fans and have a bit of age on you might remember the 1985 Villanova Wildcats that were to play the Georgetown Hoyas for the national championship in men’s college basketball. Georgetown was favored to win by a boatload, but Villanova came out with a brilliant game plan and shot lights out in the first half. At halftime, they must have felt like I do now.
Cancer is my Georgetown. When they tell you, you have an incurable disease, you have to take a few minutes to catch your breath before you put together a game plan. I took the time and put together my game plan. It seems to be working. Started round two of chemotherapy today, but at the same time got some more good news on the level of creatinine in my bloodstream. It is now down to 2.9. Nice drop from 3.1 in just one week. Calcium levels remain down so it looks like all is well on the kidney/cancer improvement phase.
Bring on Georgetown! (Those of you that are not sports fans—Villanova won in one of the greatest upsets in sports history.)
Cancer is my Georgetown. When they tell you, you have an incurable disease, you have to take a few minutes to catch your breath before you put together a game plan. I took the time and put together my game plan. It seems to be working. Started round two of chemotherapy today, but at the same time got some more good news on the level of creatinine in my bloodstream. It is now down to 2.9. Nice drop from 3.1 in just one week. Calcium levels remain down so it looks like all is well on the kidney/cancer improvement phase.
Bring on Georgetown! (Those of you that are not sports fans—Villanova won in one of the greatest upsets in sports history.)
March 2, 2009 - Duck Walk
The alarm goes off at 6 AM and I wonder why I agreed to move the MRI up to 7 AM. Of course it is a Monday and as usual, Justin forgets to set his alarm. Luckily, I’m nosey enough to get him moving so that he and Jason are not late.
The MRI is nothing special, just 90 minutes in a tube not much bigger that a shake straw at Arby’s. The noise is a combination of an AC/DC concert with accompaniment from a jack hammer. The boys would have loved it when it came time to do the pelvis part of the MRI. The technician had to strap my feet together. For years, the boys have suggested that I walk like a duck. I think this comes from Justin’s early love affair with Daisy Duck, but non-the-less, ridicule that I have taken for several years. Apparently the duckiness of my legs was causing a problem with the MRI. Score: Boys 1 , Dad 0.
Jason is home sick from school today. Must keep him 100 paces away. I don’t need to get sick now. He better get healed by tomorrow, first baseball game.
The MRI is nothing special, just 90 minutes in a tube not much bigger that a shake straw at Arby’s. The noise is a combination of an AC/DC concert with accompaniment from a jack hammer. The boys would have loved it when it came time to do the pelvis part of the MRI. The technician had to strap my feet together. For years, the boys have suggested that I walk like a duck. I think this comes from Justin’s early love affair with Daisy Duck, but non-the-less, ridicule that I have taken for several years. Apparently the duckiness of my legs was causing a problem with the MRI. Score: Boys 1 , Dad 0.
Jason is home sick from school today. Must keep him 100 paces away. I don’t need to get sick now. He better get healed by tomorrow, first baseball game.
March 1, 2009 - Back to His Old Tricks
It’s Sunday and that means that I get to celebrate lasting another week on the diet by having my weekly splurge. So far I have had two pieces of pizza, an entire half pound hamburger, half of a cheeseburger that I then turned into two additional meals by cutting the remaining half into quarters and last week a chicken breast from Kentucky Fried Chicken with a side of cole slaw. This week I’m getting really crazy and going to Hooters for a Buffalo Chicken sandwich.
Last day off between tests. Go in for the MRI tomorrow. Hopefully they can figure out something with my back. It’s funny, there are times I forget that I have cancer, let alone the bad kidneys. Just trying to stay positive. Can’t thank everyone enough for all of the prayers and well wishes. It really does make a difference. We are going to beat this together.
Postscript on the Buffalo Chicken sandwich from Hooters. I guess I over did it on the spiciness. Up all night with diarrhea. At least I don’t have to worry about being constipated for a while.
Last day off between tests. Go in for the MRI tomorrow. Hopefully they can figure out something with my back. It’s funny, there are times I forget that I have cancer, let alone the bad kidneys. Just trying to stay positive. Can’t thank everyone enough for all of the prayers and well wishes. It really does make a difference. We are going to beat this together.
Postscript on the Buffalo Chicken sandwich from Hooters. I guess I over did it on the spiciness. Up all night with diarrhea. At least I don’t have to worry about being constipated for a while.
February 26, 2009 - Giving Birth
Hate to keep dwelling on this “regular” issue, but it is now day six. Not sure I have ever gone this long before. It feels like I am trying to give birth to a softball. My life is passing in front of me at this point. And I thought the cancer would be bad. After two valiant tries during the day, (and a great deal of wailing and gnashing of teeth) I beg Julia to call the doctor and get me some relief.
Thank God for the simple things in life. After three doses of this stuff that tastes like straight sugar, I find success in the bathroom. Of course, it is 2 AM and it is the beginning of 2 hours on and off the toilet, but at least I finally gave birth and both dad and junior are doing fine……
Thank God for the simple things in life. After three doses of this stuff that tastes like straight sugar, I find success in the bathroom. Of course, it is 2 AM and it is the beginning of 2 hours on and off the toilet, but at least I finally gave birth and both dad and junior are doing fine……
February 25, 2009 - The Diet's Getting Old Fast
Finally, the day both Julia and I have been waiting for, a date worth the dietician. Hopefully to ease the constraints on my diet. Not losing weight, but I’m starting to have Whopper and Big Mac withdrawal nightmares.
It didn’t take long for our hopes to be dashed, however, as the dietician did not have a renal panel to study from any recent blood tests. In fact, as she explained things, she took one ounce of high level protein (meat) away from me. Now just 5 ounces of meat a day and still no salt. Probably more depressed about this than anything I have heard in a while. I firmly believe that the sodium restriction is too stiff. I am not retaining water and my blood pressure is 121 over 75. Now have to wait two weeks to see her again. Oh well, back to the drudgery…..
It didn’t take long for our hopes to be dashed, however, as the dietician did not have a renal panel to study from any recent blood tests. In fact, as she explained things, she took one ounce of high level protein (meat) away from me. Now just 5 ounces of meat a day and still no salt. Probably more depressed about this than anything I have heard in a while. I firmly believe that the sodium restriction is too stiff. I am not retaining water and my blood pressure is 121 over 75. Now have to wait two weeks to see her again. Oh well, back to the drudgery…..
February 24, 2009 - Making Sure
From the very first moment that you hear the word “cancer” in reference to your future, your mind begins to race. You do your best to put it aside and live your life as if cancer wasn’t part of it, but no matter how hard you try, it is still part of your being. You do your best to keep it from becoming who you are, but it never goes away, it just takes a break now and then.
It becomes increasingly important that you find good news in what is taking place. Be it, no nausea from the chemo to still having hair to comb every morning. Yet, nothing means much until you hear something good from the doctor. It’s been a month now since this all started and I’m still awaiting that first real positive sign that things might start going in a better direction. Today was the day that would hopefully be that day. I had a 9 AM appointment with a myeloma expert at the Mayo Clinic with a follow-up with my nephrologist in the afternoon.
As I had mentioned last Friday, my uneducated eye saw some good and some maybe not so good on the blood work-up from a week ago. My creatinine had dropped from 3.6 to 3.1. To me, it was eye popping as this was THE number that I understood. However, the BUN number which is a ratio that also explains how the kidneys are functioning went in the wrong direction. Today, somebody that knew what they were doing would be able to clarify and set the record straight.
Dr. Joseph Mikhail is an oncologist that specializes in multiple myeloma. He not only knows his stuff, he really knows how to explain it to a layman. Walking out of that appointment, both Julia and I felt better about where we were. He agreed with the current treatment that Dr. Obenchain has prescribed. That, in itself, makes you feel better about the direction you are heading. He went into detail on next steps including the biggie, the bone marrow transplant which really seems to be the end game for this disease. I’ll go into that when it get is a little closer.
The day was completed with a visit to Dr. Hogan, the nephrologist that I have been working with from day one. When he saw my blood work, he was more than excited as he dove down much further than our untrained eyes could go. He basically said that at this point, everything seems to be working. He about fell over when we described how religious we had been with the diet. In his own words, “nobody goes this far. We just hope to get them to modify a little bit.”
I have to admit, I have been more than a little anal with this diet thing. It’s amazing how good you can be when there is this imaginary little devil with a gun pointed at your head 24 hours a day. Hopefully, we’ll get a break from the dietician tomorrow.
It becomes increasingly important that you find good news in what is taking place. Be it, no nausea from the chemo to still having hair to comb every morning. Yet, nothing means much until you hear something good from the doctor. It’s been a month now since this all started and I’m still awaiting that first real positive sign that things might start going in a better direction. Today was the day that would hopefully be that day. I had a 9 AM appointment with a myeloma expert at the Mayo Clinic with a follow-up with my nephrologist in the afternoon.
As I had mentioned last Friday, my uneducated eye saw some good and some maybe not so good on the blood work-up from a week ago. My creatinine had dropped from 3.6 to 3.1. To me, it was eye popping as this was THE number that I understood. However, the BUN number which is a ratio that also explains how the kidneys are functioning went in the wrong direction. Today, somebody that knew what they were doing would be able to clarify and set the record straight.
Dr. Joseph Mikhail is an oncologist that specializes in multiple myeloma. He not only knows his stuff, he really knows how to explain it to a layman. Walking out of that appointment, both Julia and I felt better about where we were. He agreed with the current treatment that Dr. Obenchain has prescribed. That, in itself, makes you feel better about the direction you are heading. He went into detail on next steps including the biggie, the bone marrow transplant which really seems to be the end game for this disease. I’ll go into that when it get is a little closer.
The day was completed with a visit to Dr. Hogan, the nephrologist that I have been working with from day one. When he saw my blood work, he was more than excited as he dove down much further than our untrained eyes could go. He basically said that at this point, everything seems to be working. He about fell over when we described how religious we had been with the diet. In his own words, “nobody goes this far. We just hope to get them to modify a little bit.”
I have to admit, I have been more than a little anal with this diet thing. It’s amazing how good you can be when there is this imaginary little devil with a gun pointed at your head 24 hours a day. Hopefully, we’ll get a break from the dietician tomorrow.
February 23, 2009 - TMI
Side effects have been minimal, but I’m finding that keeping “regular” is not as easy as it used to be. I used to be able to set my watch that 10 AM had hit, time to go to the bathroom. I always marveled at getting paid to go to take care of business. That is all gone now, it has been three days. I’m starting to panic.
February 20, 2009 - He's Feeling Better, He's Pinching Pennies
Week two was pretty easy. Having just the Velcade makes it a little easier as the dryness seems to be easing up a little bit. Still no major side effects aside from the dryness and being overly tired. Amazingly enough God has spared me the losing of the hair. It seems he is taking it easy on me since he has slowly been taking it away for 20 years. Not sure why it is so important not to lose the hair, but just having a little more control seems to make it better. I’m almost afraid to get my hair cut. If I do it might just all fall out. Or maybe I’m just too cheap and I don’t want to waste the $15. We’ll see if I can make it through round two.
February 17, 2009 - Yum! Veggie Eggrolls
I haven’t talked a great deal about eating, but this renal diet is getting old fast. It seems like every commercial on TV is about food. Either prepared food or some swell deal at the local grocery store. I never thought that Taco Bell would be viewed as a delicacy. I knew I was in real trouble tonight when Julia brought home two veggie egg rolls and told me that I had to have them as part of my tasteless meal. I gave in and ate a small slice and almost died. Yes, it tasted good. Ahhh!! Have I gotten to this point where vegetables are starting to taste good? Please tell me this is not happening! It must be the chemo. I wolfed them done like they were candy. Later found out that they had way too much salt for me. Thank God, the world has been set straight, it wasn’t the veggies, it was the salt.
February 16, 2009 - The Weekend That Wasn't
Boy, what a weekend. All I really wanted to do was sleep. Every hour I would wake up and feel like I had been left for dead in the desert. Eyes plastered shut and throat as dry as the Sahara.
February 13, 2009 - Round 2
Another day of chemo is here, but this will be the first one with both drugs. Met with Dr. Obenchain before the treatment and basically went over what to expect over the next few weeks. Will do at least two three week sessions and then will evaluate the progress.
The Velcade went as it had on Tuesday, but the Doxil took three hours. Because it is stronger, they want to take it slow. Unlike the Velcade, it comes in a bag and is dripped very slowly. It still went pretty easily, but it was nap time when we got home.
Even with the nap in the afternoon, I was really dragging at night. One of the things that I have gotten used to is the amount of water that I need to be drinking. Every chance that they get, the nurses tell me to drink as much as I can. As a result, I have been drinking more water than I can hold. Getting up a couple times a night to go to the bathroom is not unusual, yet tonight was different than most. Every time I woke up I was bone dry. My eyes even hurt they were so dry. This Doxil is something else.
The Velcade went as it had on Tuesday, but the Doxil took three hours. Because it is stronger, they want to take it slow. Unlike the Velcade, it comes in a bag and is dripped very slowly. It still went pretty easily, but it was nap time when we got home.
Even with the nap in the afternoon, I was really dragging at night. One of the things that I have gotten used to is the amount of water that I need to be drinking. Every chance that they get, the nurses tell me to drink as much as I can. As a result, I have been drinking more water than I can hold. Getting up a couple times a night to go to the bathroom is not unusual, yet tonight was different than most. Every time I woke up I was bone dry. My eyes even hurt they were so dry. This Doxil is something else.
February 12, 2009 - The Making of The Hulk
Julia, of course as she has been doing through all of this, comes with me to the hospital. Early morning appointment and they get me in pretty quickly. Have to fill out another 100 forms. I think you could make a million bucks just having all of the answers on a chip that they could copy from. Oh, well, when I get some time….
Another IV, but this one goes fairly easily. They take out a little blood and then take about 30 minutes to make it radioactive. They call me back into the scanning area and bring in this lead box with my blood in it. There isn’t anything that gets you fired up is when they bring in a lead box to keep everyone safe and then inject you with it. I’m starting to feel a little bit like David Banner.
The test itself takes about 20 minutes and is fairly easy. Just have to lay there and breathe normally. I can see if you are a bit claustrophobic where this could cause you some heartburn, but not too bad overall.
Not sure if this is going to be the case, but sure seem more tired than normal. I need to take a nap everyday in the afternoon. Work is good. Not sure I’m accomplishing a great deal, but it feels good going in. I seem to hit a wall at noon, no matter what.
Another IV, but this one goes fairly easily. They take out a little blood and then take about 30 minutes to make it radioactive. They call me back into the scanning area and bring in this lead box with my blood in it. There isn’t anything that gets you fired up is when they bring in a lead box to keep everyone safe and then inject you with it. I’m starting to feel a little bit like David Banner.
The test itself takes about 20 minutes and is fairly easy. Just have to lay there and breathe normally. I can see if you are a bit claustrophobic where this could cause you some heartburn, but not too bad overall.
Not sure if this is going to be the case, but sure seem more tired than normal. I need to take a nap everyday in the afternoon. Work is good. Not sure I’m accomplishing a great deal, but it feels good going in. I seem to hit a wall at noon, no matter what.
February 10, 2009 - The Fight Begins
Chemotherapy. Funny word, but it is one that you really never associate with your own lifestyle. Yet, today is my first day dealing with it. Just like when I entered the hospital, the nurse had some problems getting the IV started. Just not the way that I would have diagrammed the start of the day. I have enough trouble with needles without having to do four tries again. The second nurse was able to get it in, but I sure would like to avoid this in the future. They really take their time giving me the stuff as it takes 30 minutes just getting in the pre-chemo solution in my body. The actual chemo is administered with a syringe into the IV. Overall it wasn’t as bad as I had imagined.
I’m the youngest participant in the room. The old ladies probably think I’m hot, but it’s tough looking that way when you practically pass out every time they try to put a needle in. I’ll have to work on that a bit.
We are about ready to try anything with this back and leg issue. I have now entered the land of new age medicine as we see a naturopathic/oncology doctor who also does acupuncture. $500 later, I have a boatload of pills, some advice on what to eat and not eat because of the chemo and 17 more holes in my back and legs. They had everything but some “Yanni” music in the background. Now I find out that more things are illegal such as vitamin C, orange juice and green tea as they hinder the action of the chemo drugs.
I stopped on the way home to get some anti-nausea medicine. Thank God for insurance. The 40 pills are $800 without insurance, just $68 for us.
No real side effects early on, just tired. Going to bed early. Trying to work half days around the doctor visits. Not sure how much I’ll get in on Thursday as I have to get another test done. This will be a MUGA test which will look at my heart to see if I can handle the chemo.
Well, I obviously spoke too soon. Tonight was one of the worst nights that I have had with pain. Not sure if it was the chemo or the acupuncture or something else as I only got about two hours of sleep. It got so bad that I even filled up the tub and sat in hot water. It worked the first time, but not for long. Almost glad when the sun came up and I could walk around a little bit. Hopefully, this is a one shot thing.
I’m the youngest participant in the room. The old ladies probably think I’m hot, but it’s tough looking that way when you practically pass out every time they try to put a needle in. I’ll have to work on that a bit.
We are about ready to try anything with this back and leg issue. I have now entered the land of new age medicine as we see a naturopathic/oncology doctor who also does acupuncture. $500 later, I have a boatload of pills, some advice on what to eat and not eat because of the chemo and 17 more holes in my back and legs. They had everything but some “Yanni” music in the background. Now I find out that more things are illegal such as vitamin C, orange juice and green tea as they hinder the action of the chemo drugs.
I stopped on the way home to get some anti-nausea medicine. Thank God for insurance. The 40 pills are $800 without insurance, just $68 for us.
No real side effects early on, just tired. Going to bed early. Trying to work half days around the doctor visits. Not sure how much I’ll get in on Thursday as I have to get another test done. This will be a MUGA test which will look at my heart to see if I can handle the chemo.
Well, I obviously spoke too soon. Tonight was one of the worst nights that I have had with pain. Not sure if it was the chemo or the acupuncture or something else as I only got about two hours of sleep. It got so bad that I even filled up the tub and sat in hot water. It worked the first time, but not for long. Almost glad when the sun came up and I could walk around a little bit. Hopefully, this is a one shot thing.
February 6, 2009 - Reality Strikes
Today is a day that I will remember for the rest of my life. Certainly not one that will be celebrated, but one that will be remembered.
For most of my adult life, I often wondered what it would be like the day that the doctor told me I had cancer. I realize that this sounds fatalistic, but with my heritage with each parent having more than one brand of cancer and the fact that my cholesterol was always extremely low, no matter what I ate, it was likely that cancer would find its way to me at some point in time. Not morose, just realistic.
Well, it seems that day has arrived. When I got to Dr. Obenchain’s office, my blood pressure was through the roof. I kept telling them that this was not the real me, but both times I was in it was 150ish over 90ish. After pacing in the tiny room for what seemed like forever, the doctor entered.
She really didn’t beat around the bush. She came right out and said that the biopsy confirmed that I did, indeed, have multiple myeloma. Not what I wanted to hear, but not really a surprise. I guess I surprised myself a bit and took the news no different than if someone had told me that it would rain later that day.
I wasn’t really sure what I would do. Would I cry, would I faint, would I just sit there numb? Oddly, none of those things. I just started asking questions. I needed to know the next steps. How soon could we start? I told her that we would get a second opinion from the Mayo Clinic, but I didn’t want to wait. I was ready to get started. It had already been two weeks and I felt like I hadn’t done anything to get this fixed. I was starting to go nuts just sitting around.
The next step was to be chemotherapy. I was going to be taking two kinds. Velcade is a designer drug made specifically to attack multiple myeloma. It is designed to just go after the affected cells and not do a great deal of damage to the surrounding cells. It had the normal side effects, but was generally easily tolerated. Doxil is a more common drug that is used in several different cancers but was not always prescribed for multiple myeloma. There have been some success stories with this drug and multiple myeloma, but it isn’t always prescribed because the side effects are worse and most people with this disease are older and not in as good of general health. I would take the Velcade twice for the first two weeks and then take a week off. The Doxil would be taken at the end of the first week and then not again for three weeks. I would start all of this on Tuesday. Can’t wait to throw up and watch my hair fall out.
The easy part of the day was over. It’s one thing to find out that you have cancer. It’s another thing to actually have to tell someone else. When you have children, sickness becomes far more complicated. I know Julia will be there for me and I guess its part of the “in sickness and in health” vow that I made her take (lucky I got that in the contract!). I knew what to expect with her. I knew she would be strong and help me get through this. It’s another thing when you have children involved.
It doesn’t matter how old your kids are, you never feel like your job as a parent is done. When you find out you have cancer, you wonder how much time you have left to finish the job. As good as my kids are, I still have some work to do (that’s putting it mildly if you look at some of their grades.) I think this is one of the reasons that I can remain so positive about this disease. I know I have to. I know my job isn’t done. Jason still has trouble hitting a curveball which is even more important than the grade thing. I can’t throw one, but I can still TELL him to hit one.
To actually tell the boys what we found out was tough. Justin had a million questions and Jason just took it all in. They seem unshaken, but you never know what is going on inside that tough exterior. We all have to stay positive, I think they will do their part.
For most of my adult life, I often wondered what it would be like the day that the doctor told me I had cancer. I realize that this sounds fatalistic, but with my heritage with each parent having more than one brand of cancer and the fact that my cholesterol was always extremely low, no matter what I ate, it was likely that cancer would find its way to me at some point in time. Not morose, just realistic.
Well, it seems that day has arrived. When I got to Dr. Obenchain’s office, my blood pressure was through the roof. I kept telling them that this was not the real me, but both times I was in it was 150ish over 90ish. After pacing in the tiny room for what seemed like forever, the doctor entered.
She really didn’t beat around the bush. She came right out and said that the biopsy confirmed that I did, indeed, have multiple myeloma. Not what I wanted to hear, but not really a surprise. I guess I surprised myself a bit and took the news no different than if someone had told me that it would rain later that day.
I wasn’t really sure what I would do. Would I cry, would I faint, would I just sit there numb? Oddly, none of those things. I just started asking questions. I needed to know the next steps. How soon could we start? I told her that we would get a second opinion from the Mayo Clinic, but I didn’t want to wait. I was ready to get started. It had already been two weeks and I felt like I hadn’t done anything to get this fixed. I was starting to go nuts just sitting around.
The next step was to be chemotherapy. I was going to be taking two kinds. Velcade is a designer drug made specifically to attack multiple myeloma. It is designed to just go after the affected cells and not do a great deal of damage to the surrounding cells. It had the normal side effects, but was generally easily tolerated. Doxil is a more common drug that is used in several different cancers but was not always prescribed for multiple myeloma. There have been some success stories with this drug and multiple myeloma, but it isn’t always prescribed because the side effects are worse and most people with this disease are older and not in as good of general health. I would take the Velcade twice for the first two weeks and then take a week off. The Doxil would be taken at the end of the first week and then not again for three weeks. I would start all of this on Tuesday. Can’t wait to throw up and watch my hair fall out.
The easy part of the day was over. It’s one thing to find out that you have cancer. It’s another thing to actually have to tell someone else. When you have children, sickness becomes far more complicated. I know Julia will be there for me and I guess its part of the “in sickness and in health” vow that I made her take (lucky I got that in the contract!). I knew what to expect with her. I knew she would be strong and help me get through this. It’s another thing when you have children involved.
It doesn’t matter how old your kids are, you never feel like your job as a parent is done. When you find out you have cancer, you wonder how much time you have left to finish the job. As good as my kids are, I still have some work to do (that’s putting it mildly if you look at some of their grades.) I think this is one of the reasons that I can remain so positive about this disease. I know I have to. I know my job isn’t done. Jason still has trouble hitting a curveball which is even more important than the grade thing. I can’t throw one, but I can still TELL him to hit one.
To actually tell the boys what we found out was tough. Justin had a million questions and Jason just took it all in. They seem unshaken, but you never know what is going on inside that tough exterior. We all have to stay positive, I think they will do their part.
February 3, 2009 - I Have to Eat What?!!
First meeting with Dr. Hogan at his office today. Didn’t really go over a great deal as we were still awaiting the results from the bone marrow biopsy. Talked more about the diet and what I could have and couldn’t have. Basically, a renal diet exists to protect the kidneys. With my kidneys only working at 10%, they were filled with proteins that they could not process. My body was producing non-conforming proteins that were clogging up the works. To minimize that problem, I had to limit the amount of proteins that I ate.
Those of you that know me know that there are two things that I like to eat, meat and potatoes. Veggies are a nasty thing that I eat when Julia makes me. I had now been limited to 6 ounces of meat. That is just a hair more that a burger that I might toss down at lunch. This was now my entire day. This was not going to be fun. Julia still lives in this dream world thinking that I am going to like vegetables just because I can’t eat the things I like. She actually mentioned mashed cauliflower as a substitute for mashed potatoes. I told her I preferred Jelly Bellies.
In addition to that, I have to limit my sodium, phosphorus, potassium and calcium. I can no longer have any milk products totaling any more than 4 oz. of milk. No tomato based products, no potatoes, no bananas, not beans or nuts. I have to limit the amount of sodium in one day to 2000 milligrams. That is the equivalent of a Whopper and a chicken breast. That doesn’t sound that bad until you realize that everything has sodium. A bagel has 500 milligrams. Two teaspoons of salad dressing can have over 200. When you have only 2,000 they go pretty quick. Can’t even use salt substitutes because they contain potassium. I don’t even know what a salt shaker looks like anymore. I lost 12 pounds in the first week because nothing tasted good. There was no reason to eat. I can’t even walk by Hooter’s they have so much junk food, I have to keep my cell phone on 911 speed dial just in case I wonder in.
Those of you that know me know that there are two things that I like to eat, meat and potatoes. Veggies are a nasty thing that I eat when Julia makes me. I had now been limited to 6 ounces of meat. That is just a hair more that a burger that I might toss down at lunch. This was now my entire day. This was not going to be fun. Julia still lives in this dream world thinking that I am going to like vegetables just because I can’t eat the things I like. She actually mentioned mashed cauliflower as a substitute for mashed potatoes. I told her I preferred Jelly Bellies.
In addition to that, I have to limit my sodium, phosphorus, potassium and calcium. I can no longer have any milk products totaling any more than 4 oz. of milk. No tomato based products, no potatoes, no bananas, not beans or nuts. I have to limit the amount of sodium in one day to 2000 milligrams. That is the equivalent of a Whopper and a chicken breast. That doesn’t sound that bad until you realize that everything has sodium. A bagel has 500 milligrams. Two teaspoons of salad dressing can have over 200. When you have only 2,000 they go pretty quick. Can’t even use salt substitutes because they contain potassium. I don’t even know what a salt shaker looks like anymore. I lost 12 pounds in the first week because nothing tasted good. There was no reason to eat. I can’t even walk by Hooter’s they have so much junk food, I have to keep my cell phone on 911 speed dial just in case I wonder in.
January 30, 2009 - More Pokes & Tests
Another somewhat sleepless night worrying about what I was going to experience on Friday. In the morning I was going to the hospital to get a full body series of x-rays done to be followed by the bone marrow biopsy in the afternoon.
Even without an appointment, I was able to get in for the x-rays pretty quickly. They went through a series of about 25 x-rays in less than 45 minutes. You find yourself sitting there dreading what they might find. I don’t know if it was nerves or just the temperature in the room, but I seemed to be shivering during the whole exercise.
Multiple myeloma attacks the bones creating soft spots. As they go through the x-rays, you can’t help but wonder if they might have just found something but aren’t saying anything. X-ray after x-ray you can’t help but wonder. Before you know it, it was over and we went furniture shopping because I couldn’t eat before the biopsy.
Back to another waiting room waiting for another IV and procedure. Luckily, Dr. Obenchain was right and this would be a piece of cake. Finally, I ran into a nurse that knew how to put in an IV and it was done in just one try. After a quick explanation from the anesthesiologist and surgeon, we were off to the races. Not sure what happened, but it was over before I knew what had happened. One minute, I was asked to roll on my side and then the next minute I was lying on my back and 20 minutes of my life had disappeared.
The only real excitement of the afternoon was as I laid there in my little hospital gown and the apparently gay nurse uncovered my manhood to the rest of the rather large room. Still a little high, I didn’t think much of it at the time, but I think I scared the 60+ year old nurse three beds away.
Luckily, there were little side effects and we were quickly out of the hospital and on our way. Amazing, in one week, I had gone from being seemingly perfectly healthy to staying three days in the hospital, a kidney biopsy and a bone marrow biopsy. I had had blood taken from me at least 12 times and had gotten a shot in my stomach. And I thought finals week was hard in college.
Even without an appointment, I was able to get in for the x-rays pretty quickly. They went through a series of about 25 x-rays in less than 45 minutes. You find yourself sitting there dreading what they might find. I don’t know if it was nerves or just the temperature in the room, but I seemed to be shivering during the whole exercise.
Multiple myeloma attacks the bones creating soft spots. As they go through the x-rays, you can’t help but wonder if they might have just found something but aren’t saying anything. X-ray after x-ray you can’t help but wonder. Before you know it, it was over and we went furniture shopping because I couldn’t eat before the biopsy.
Back to another waiting room waiting for another IV and procedure. Luckily, Dr. Obenchain was right and this would be a piece of cake. Finally, I ran into a nurse that knew how to put in an IV and it was done in just one try. After a quick explanation from the anesthesiologist and surgeon, we were off to the races. Not sure what happened, but it was over before I knew what had happened. One minute, I was asked to roll on my side and then the next minute I was lying on my back and 20 minutes of my life had disappeared.
The only real excitement of the afternoon was as I laid there in my little hospital gown and the apparently gay nurse uncovered my manhood to the rest of the rather large room. Still a little high, I didn’t think much of it at the time, but I think I scared the 60+ year old nurse three beds away.
Luckily, there were little side effects and we were quickly out of the hospital and on our way. Amazing, in one week, I had gone from being seemingly perfectly healthy to staying three days in the hospital, a kidney biopsy and a bone marrow biopsy. I had had blood taken from me at least 12 times and had gotten a shot in my stomach. And I thought finals week was hard in college.
January 29, 2009 - The Hot Doc
Dr. Robin Obenchain could not have selected a better profession. She is the perfect person to take you through the ordeal of cancer. She is just flat out nice. Having gone through this herself in the past, she knows what thoughts are going through your head and she knows how to handle the tough questions.
She wasn’t willing to say it was cancer at this point but she was able to pull some strings and get the bone marrow biopsy scheduled for Friday. She did her best to alleviate my fears about getting it done, but all I could do was picture Dr. House and his minions drilling into someone’s bones to get a bit of marrow for the test.
Almost forgot to mention that Dr. Obenchain is HOT. Dr. Frankenstein, she is not. More reason to live longer…..
She wasn’t willing to say it was cancer at this point but she was able to pull some strings and get the bone marrow biopsy scheduled for Friday. She did her best to alleviate my fears about getting it done, but all I could do was picture Dr. House and his minions drilling into someone’s bones to get a bit of marrow for the test.
Almost forgot to mention that Dr. Obenchain is HOT. Dr. Frankenstein, she is not. More reason to live longer…..
January 28, 2009 - The Waiting Game
It was 10 in the morning and I had yet to hear from the oncologist’s office. Being the Nervous Nellie that I am, I called Dr. Hogan who put me in touch with Dr. Obenchain. Not wanting to wait, we were able to get in to see her on Thursday. Still reeling a bit from the likely cancer news, it was more of the waiting game.
January 27, 2009 - The Night of Tears
One of my favorite suppliers was coming in to visit today, so I managed to get myself out of bed long enough to take a shower and head into work. Even though I had only missed a day and a half, it was nice to get back in. Nothing like a stay in the hospital to make you feel useless. Even though I was just going to be sitting through a 90 minute meeting it got the blood flowing again. When my boss saw me, he about ran me out of the place. I assured him it would just be for the one meeting, but after an hour my assistant grabbed me and walked me to my car. It’s nice to know they care, but it also felt good to get back to work for even just an hour.
It was about 5:30 that afternoon when my cell phone rang. It is a call that I will remember for the rest of my life, even if I only remember the first five minutes. You see, that was the call that brought up cancer for the first time.
Hogan said that he had received the results from the biopsy and although they were not conclusive, they certainly pointed in just a couple of directions. Don’t even ask me what the second direction was because as soon as he mentioned multiple myeloma, everything else became gibberish. It was just like the old cartoon where the dog owner is having a rather intelligent conversation with his dog and the only word that the dog understands is “Fido.”
The wonderful thing about the internet is that you have a world of knowledge at your fingertips. The bad thing about the internet is that you have a world of knowledge at your fingertips. It just so happened that I had my laptop open when the doctor called. Thirty seconds after multiple myeloma had been spoken, I knew that there was no cure. Needless to say, these were not the words that I wanted to hear. Never mind that Dr. Hogan had said that there needed to be more testing before we would know accurately. The all encompassing word had been uttered and it was the only word that mattered. My parents had died of cancer and there was a certain likelihood that I now had it.
Dr. Hogan was to call an oncologist and get an appointment set up as soon as possible. That was the end of the conversation and I was left to my thoughts. The boys had just gotten home from baseball tryouts and this was certainly not anything that we wanted to dump on them. So we went about our business as if the call had not come with the news that it brought. Dinner was dinner and the boys went on to do their homework and return to the lower level of the house never to be seen again. We knew that having the boys’ bedrooms on a different floor would make a difference, but half of the time, we don’t even know if they are alive. Probably not a bad idea for this night, however.
So much goes through your mind when you get news like this. “Why me?” is probably the most asked question. I’m 56, but have been in great health my whole life. I don’t smoke, drink or do any of the other things that typically bring you down this path. You can’t help but wonder how much time you have left. I felt I could deal with cancer, but if I only had months to live, I wasn’t sure I could handle that.
Julia and I talked for hours as we tried to reason what was happening between the tears that you unsuccessfully try to fight back. Even though it had not been confirmed, I truly felt that it was cancer. There had just been too much in my family’s background for me to miss it. Having Julia there was everything to me. How people can go through this alone, I’ll never understand. Even that first night gave me an idea of what she would mean to me and how successful I would be in fighting it. Finally, the weight of the day was lifted and I fell asleep.
It was about 5:30 that afternoon when my cell phone rang. It is a call that I will remember for the rest of my life, even if I only remember the first five minutes. You see, that was the call that brought up cancer for the first time.
Hogan said that he had received the results from the biopsy and although they were not conclusive, they certainly pointed in just a couple of directions. Don’t even ask me what the second direction was because as soon as he mentioned multiple myeloma, everything else became gibberish. It was just like the old cartoon where the dog owner is having a rather intelligent conversation with his dog and the only word that the dog understands is “Fido.”
The wonderful thing about the internet is that you have a world of knowledge at your fingertips. The bad thing about the internet is that you have a world of knowledge at your fingertips. It just so happened that I had my laptop open when the doctor called. Thirty seconds after multiple myeloma had been spoken, I knew that there was no cure. Needless to say, these were not the words that I wanted to hear. Never mind that Dr. Hogan had said that there needed to be more testing before we would know accurately. The all encompassing word had been uttered and it was the only word that mattered. My parents had died of cancer and there was a certain likelihood that I now had it.
Dr. Hogan was to call an oncologist and get an appointment set up as soon as possible. That was the end of the conversation and I was left to my thoughts. The boys had just gotten home from baseball tryouts and this was certainly not anything that we wanted to dump on them. So we went about our business as if the call had not come with the news that it brought. Dinner was dinner and the boys went on to do their homework and return to the lower level of the house never to be seen again. We knew that having the boys’ bedrooms on a different floor would make a difference, but half of the time, we don’t even know if they are alive. Probably not a bad idea for this night, however.
So much goes through your mind when you get news like this. “Why me?” is probably the most asked question. I’m 56, but have been in great health my whole life. I don’t smoke, drink or do any of the other things that typically bring you down this path. You can’t help but wonder how much time you have left. I felt I could deal with cancer, but if I only had months to live, I wasn’t sure I could handle that.
Julia and I talked for hours as we tried to reason what was happening between the tears that you unsuccessfully try to fight back. Even though it had not been confirmed, I truly felt that it was cancer. There had just been too much in my family’s background for me to miss it. Having Julia there was everything to me. How people can go through this alone, I’ll never understand. Even that first night gave me an idea of what she would mean to me and how successful I would be in fighting it. Finally, the weight of the day was lifted and I fell asleep.
January 26 - The Call
Well my day had finally come. About 7 AM they came to my room with the required wheel chair and rolled me down to the lower levels of the hospital. An IV, three shots of local anesthesia and two needle pokes into my kidneys and I was done. Certainly not as bad as I had pictured, but not something I would recommend as a fun thing to do on a boring afternoon. The one good thing that happened was they gave me a IV shot of something that certainly lightened up the mood. Thank God I hate needles or I would be tempted to become a drug addict. (Well, it would have to be cheap, too.)
After lying still for many hours to make sure that I wasn’t going to bleed to death, they let me go home. My first stay in the hospital in my life had come to a somewhat unexciting end, not that there is anything wrong with unexciting when you are in the hospital. Dr. Hogan, said that he would call as soon as the results were back from the biopsy, which could be as early as tomorrow afternoon. Until then, just nervous waiting.
After lying still for many hours to make sure that I wasn’t going to bleed to death, they let me go home. My first stay in the hospital in my life had come to a somewhat unexciting end, not that there is anything wrong with unexciting when you are in the hospital. Dr. Hogan, said that he would call as soon as the results were back from the biopsy, which could be as early as tomorrow afternoon. Until then, just nervous waiting.
January 24, 2009 - Who's Sick, Not Me
The goal of getting me admitted to the hospital on Friday was so I could have my kidney biopsy the next morning and go home later that day. I got about 2 hours sleep that night and wasn’t given anything to eat or drink until noon when they finally came to the conclusion that there was no one there to take the biopsy. You think somebody would have noticed that the room was empty…
All of those rumors that you have heard about never getting a chance to sleep while in the hospital are true. I think they have a contest every night just to see who can wake up the most people. I had my blood tested at 5 AM every day, they couldn’t have waited an hour or two. They took my temperature at 2 AM each night. They wonder why people can’t wait to get back home.
The only excitement I had that day was when they gave me a bag of potato chips to eat with my lunch. Two of the things I’m not allowed to have on my newly anointed renal diet are potatoes and salt. Not sure who is running the kitchen, but even I knew enough not to indulge.
All of those rumors that you have heard about never getting a chance to sleep while in the hospital are true. I think they have a contest every night just to see who can wake up the most people. I had my blood tested at 5 AM every day, they couldn’t have waited an hour or two. They took my temperature at 2 AM each night. They wonder why people can’t wait to get back home.
The only excitement I had that day was when they gave me a bag of potato chips to eat with my lunch. Two of the things I’m not allowed to have on my newly anointed renal diet are potatoes and salt. Not sure who is running the kitchen, but even I knew enough not to indulge.
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