I feel as if I’ve completed another chapter on the road to recovery. On Wednesday, I finished my twenty-fifth session of radiation and today the sixteenth round of chemotherapy. Without the miracle of transplant, I would now go on to some other medicine with little hope of recovery. Yet, in a little over one month, I’ll be given a chance for remission because of stem cell transplantation.
When I left the hospital doctor’s office today after my chemo, I got a hug from both Gerri and Sammi. I’ll still be going in once in a while, but I’ll really miss our little discussions we have had while I received my treatments. We talked about everything under the sun, but it was always refreshing and encouraging to talk to my “private nurses.” Because I was always in there at 8 AM, I usually had them to myself and we always did our best to keep it light.
It became an ongoing joke as to who was going to get to give me the IV. Was it going to be Sammi, who is “excellent”, in her own words (Make sure you say that with a Korean accent) or Gerri, who I have given a hard time to since my first day there when we had to call Sammi in to the rescue. I never dreamed that chemotherapy could go so smoothly and a lot of that success can be explained by the excellent care I received every time I went.
I’ll now start my down time as I get ready for Chapter Three. For the next three weeks I’ll just have a few doctor’s appointments and blood tests. Then all heck breaks loose and I’ll be spending more time at the Mayo Clinic than I will at work. I woke up this morning saying, “I don’t want to go to work today.” Kind of funny, because in a couple of months, I’ll probably be saying, “Boy, I wish I could go in to work today.” I’m just never happy, but, of course, you already know that!
Monday, April 27, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
April 23, 2009 The Real Doctor Steps Up
Well, it looks like I am going to have to give up my, “I’m not a real Doctor, but I’ve watched one on TV” attitude. Spoke to Dr. Mickael and he talked me down from the ledge of a fifth round of chemotherapy. His logic is that since I have had such a good response that there truly is a law of diminishing returns and I just wouldn’t benefit that much from the extra exposure. He also stated that even though I may not be experiencing a great deal of difficulties from the chemo, there tends to be an effect that the more you get, the more the body doesn’t like it.
I have noticed just a small amount of tingling in my left foot and hand that I haven’t had before, so maybe, just maybe, he knows what he is talking about. Having a month off would allow the body to be in pretty good shape as we start the stem cell procedure.
This was a good week for some of my “Cancer Clan.” My mother in law, Fran, started her chemotherapy this week after two months of waiting for her incision to heal. At one point in time, Fran was actually thinking about not doing the chemo because of the dreaded effects. She, too, was talked down from that belief and agreed to not only do a standard chemo but also participate in a clinical trial.
The first few days have gone just about as good as anyone could have asked for. Her nausea has been very limited and she has even been able to get out of the house and do some things. She also got back some good news as her “marker” is showing that there is a reduction of cancer in her system. This is solely due to the surgery, so we all are anticipating a further reduction after this first round of chemo.
I also got to talk to Steve Kerrigan, the DJ from Dayton that also has multiple myeloma. Aside from the fact that his kidneys have continued to decline, he is doing well now in his fourth month of remission. He will soon have to start dialysis three times a week, but hopes to be able to do it through some type of a mobile machine that might allow him to do it while he is on the air. Wouldn’t that be cool? Hopefully, the kidneys can start to bounce back without the strain of the cancer.
Probably the biggest news of the week was the fact that Terry actually called ME. I can’t remember the last time that he was able to take the initiative. This new round of chemo seems to be performing some minor miracles. He has been able to get around the house and even take showers on his own. He was actually complaining about the Reds and their pathetic choice of a manager. You would not believe the difference in the man. As always, thanks for the prayers.
I’m pretty much entering a down time for me over the next three weeks and then three weeks of tests, minor surgery and the transplant. Just think, if all goes well, I could be in remission in a couple of months. Amazing.
I have noticed just a small amount of tingling in my left foot and hand that I haven’t had before, so maybe, just maybe, he knows what he is talking about. Having a month off would allow the body to be in pretty good shape as we start the stem cell procedure.
This was a good week for some of my “Cancer Clan.” My mother in law, Fran, started her chemotherapy this week after two months of waiting for her incision to heal. At one point in time, Fran was actually thinking about not doing the chemo because of the dreaded effects. She, too, was talked down from that belief and agreed to not only do a standard chemo but also participate in a clinical trial.
The first few days have gone just about as good as anyone could have asked for. Her nausea has been very limited and she has even been able to get out of the house and do some things. She also got back some good news as her “marker” is showing that there is a reduction of cancer in her system. This is solely due to the surgery, so we all are anticipating a further reduction after this first round of chemo.
I also got to talk to Steve Kerrigan, the DJ from Dayton that also has multiple myeloma. Aside from the fact that his kidneys have continued to decline, he is doing well now in his fourth month of remission. He will soon have to start dialysis three times a week, but hopes to be able to do it through some type of a mobile machine that might allow him to do it while he is on the air. Wouldn’t that be cool? Hopefully, the kidneys can start to bounce back without the strain of the cancer.
Probably the biggest news of the week was the fact that Terry actually called ME. I can’t remember the last time that he was able to take the initiative. This new round of chemo seems to be performing some minor miracles. He has been able to get around the house and even take showers on his own. He was actually complaining about the Reds and their pathetic choice of a manager. You would not believe the difference in the man. As always, thanks for the prayers.
I’m pretty much entering a down time for me over the next three weeks and then three weeks of tests, minor surgery and the transplant. Just think, if all goes well, I could be in remission in a couple of months. Amazing.
Monday, April 20, 2009
April 19, 2009 A Week of Ups and Downs
Just to let you know, I have a cold. It really just popped out today, but I’m cranky. I’ve done just about everything I can to not get sick during the chemotherapy including wearing a mask on a plane, washing my hands 300 times a day and not kissing my wife for the last three months. (Only problem is, I think she is enjoying it.) I’m afraid to take anything because of the kidney problems and the chemo. So I will contact my doctors Monday morning to see what is OK, but for now, I’ll just deal with it by not doing anything.
Aside from that, this week has had it’s ups and downs. Our family lost a friend when Fritz Rausch died on Wednesday. Fritz had been battling health issues for the last few years, but he was only a few years older than me. Fritz was the father-in-law of Justin’s and Jason’s baseball coach for the last few years back in Ohio, Chuck Gould. Fritz and his wife, Garnet, always came to the games to root the teams on so I got to know Fritz rather well over the last four years.
In a lot of ways, Fritz was a lot like me in that he was always trying to make people laugh, never thought an umpire made the right call and liked to flirt with just about every woman in sight. Fritz will be missed as he was taken well before he and we were ready.
I’m down to only three more radiation treatments, so I’m excited about that. Even going to the candy store gets old if you have to do it every day. You can imagine what it is like to have to get irradiated on a daily basis. You have to become concerned when they lock you in a room with two feet thick lead walls. I become a free man on Wednesday.
The real positives happened on the weekend when we got to see Justin go to his senior Prom. Of course, I had to take out a fifth mortgage because of the tux, limo, tickets and dinner. All in all, we dropped about $400 on this little evening out. He had a good time and made it home in one piece at about 4:30 AM on Sunday morning.
Only problem was that he had a baseball game that started seven hours later in Scottsdale. As a result, his opportunity to sleep was pretty short. The fact that the game was 45 miles away and they had to be there 30 minutes early, got him out of the house at 10.
I’ve come to the conclusion that the only real reason that we have children is so that we can brag about them. Although we would prefer to brag about ourselves, people will at least listen to you when you brag about your kid. They may walk away mumbling, but at least they listen. I can’t wait to go to work tomorrow.
You see, Justin apparently likes getting just a little sleep before the plays baseball. As most of you know, baseball has been a rather important part of Justin’s life since he was eight. When he didn’t make the high school baseball team, I thought we might have to put him on suicide watch. (Not really, but it sounds more dramatic when I put it that way.) We were able to find a league for kids that weren’t playing high school ball that he started a couple of weeks ago.
Although this league will never be confused with major league baseball, it does give the participants an opportunity to play the game they love. And Justin certainly did love it today. In his five official times to the plat, Justin hit three home runs and had a single. He drove in six runs and scored five. It got to the point where people actually watched when he came to the plate. It was a great day for him and gives me enough ammunition to brag for at least the next week or so. Another $400 (league fees) well spent.
Aside from that, this week has had it’s ups and downs. Our family lost a friend when Fritz Rausch died on Wednesday. Fritz had been battling health issues for the last few years, but he was only a few years older than me. Fritz was the father-in-law of Justin’s and Jason’s baseball coach for the last few years back in Ohio, Chuck Gould. Fritz and his wife, Garnet, always came to the games to root the teams on so I got to know Fritz rather well over the last four years.
In a lot of ways, Fritz was a lot like me in that he was always trying to make people laugh, never thought an umpire made the right call and liked to flirt with just about every woman in sight. Fritz will be missed as he was taken well before he and we were ready.
I’m down to only three more radiation treatments, so I’m excited about that. Even going to the candy store gets old if you have to do it every day. You can imagine what it is like to have to get irradiated on a daily basis. You have to become concerned when they lock you in a room with two feet thick lead walls. I become a free man on Wednesday.
The real positives happened on the weekend when we got to see Justin go to his senior Prom. Of course, I had to take out a fifth mortgage because of the tux, limo, tickets and dinner. All in all, we dropped about $400 on this little evening out. He had a good time and made it home in one piece at about 4:30 AM on Sunday morning.
Only problem was that he had a baseball game that started seven hours later in Scottsdale. As a result, his opportunity to sleep was pretty short. The fact that the game was 45 miles away and they had to be there 30 minutes early, got him out of the house at 10.
I’ve come to the conclusion that the only real reason that we have children is so that we can brag about them. Although we would prefer to brag about ourselves, people will at least listen to you when you brag about your kid. They may walk away mumbling, but at least they listen. I can’t wait to go to work tomorrow.
You see, Justin apparently likes getting just a little sleep before the plays baseball. As most of you know, baseball has been a rather important part of Justin’s life since he was eight. When he didn’t make the high school baseball team, I thought we might have to put him on suicide watch. (Not really, but it sounds more dramatic when I put it that way.) We were able to find a league for kids that weren’t playing high school ball that he started a couple of weeks ago.
Although this league will never be confused with major league baseball, it does give the participants an opportunity to play the game they love. And Justin certainly did love it today. In his five official times to the plat, Justin hit three home runs and had a single. He drove in six runs and scored five. It got to the point where people actually watched when he came to the plate. It was a great day for him and gives me enough ammunition to brag for at least the next week or so. Another $400 (league fees) well spent.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
April 14, 2009 Chemotherapy Anonymous
Well, I think I have actually become an addict, a chemotherapy addict. After looking at my schedule for the next month and a half, I realized that I could get in another round of chemo before they started my testing and harvesting of my stem cells. I even talked Dr. Obenchain into going a fifth round of this stuff. Who in their right mind asks for more chemo treatments? I can just see it now, when I get done with that round I’ll be sneaking in the back door of the hospital to see if I can get a hit of chemo every now and then at what ever the cost. They get you hooked just like crack.
To me it makes sense. If the goal is to reduce the amount of cancer cells in my blood before they do the harvest, why would they want me to be away from chemo for over four weeks. It would seem to me that more cancer cells would grow during that time verses the chemo wiping more out. Thank God, I watched all of those medical shows over the years.
Now I just have to convince Dr. Mickael at the Mayo Clinic that I am not a nut job (I realize that this will not be an easy task.) At this point, he is against it, but I haven’t had a chance to give him my point of view. I could use the old Chad Everett line on his aspirin commercials back in the 80’s. He had been a doctor on a long running show called “Medical Center.” He actually said during the commercial, “I’m not a doctor, but I played one on TV and I recommend….” Well, I drove by the UC Medical College a few times before I graduated, so I probably know more that one of the experts from the Mayo, so we’ll see.
After chemo treatment 13 and radiation treatment 19. I made matters even worse by finishing up my taxes. This was one of those years where I just kept putting it off. I had the majority of it done, but this was one of those years that was a little more interesting with the move and two states to file. I had two jobs and we sold some stock, not to mention the four mortgages that we have right now. I’m not sure which was worse, radiation, chemo or taxes. I did get help from my new boss. Scott Luther was recently promoted to the CFO position here and I thought, why not? My guess was that he might know a little about taxes. He was at a Diamondbacks game, but I felt my taxes were far more important. Strangely, he confirmed what I thought so I was able to finish the torture.
Scott’s an interesting guy. Came from the same company as my old boss, Kevin, who was also promoted. Scott had become the closest thing I had to a lunch buddy before the big promo. We’ll have to see now if that turns into an opportunity for me to do some sucking up. Shortly after he started I found out that his dad was just a couple years older than me. I feel old enough without that.
To me it makes sense. If the goal is to reduce the amount of cancer cells in my blood before they do the harvest, why would they want me to be away from chemo for over four weeks. It would seem to me that more cancer cells would grow during that time verses the chemo wiping more out. Thank God, I watched all of those medical shows over the years.
Now I just have to convince Dr. Mickael at the Mayo Clinic that I am not a nut job (I realize that this will not be an easy task.) At this point, he is against it, but I haven’t had a chance to give him my point of view. I could use the old Chad Everett line on his aspirin commercials back in the 80’s. He had been a doctor on a long running show called “Medical Center.” He actually said during the commercial, “I’m not a doctor, but I played one on TV and I recommend….” Well, I drove by the UC Medical College a few times before I graduated, so I probably know more that one of the experts from the Mayo, so we’ll see.
After chemo treatment 13 and radiation treatment 19. I made matters even worse by finishing up my taxes. This was one of those years where I just kept putting it off. I had the majority of it done, but this was one of those years that was a little more interesting with the move and two states to file. I had two jobs and we sold some stock, not to mention the four mortgages that we have right now. I’m not sure which was worse, radiation, chemo or taxes. I did get help from my new boss. Scott Luther was recently promoted to the CFO position here and I thought, why not? My guess was that he might know a little about taxes. He was at a Diamondbacks game, but I felt my taxes were far more important. Strangely, he confirmed what I thought so I was able to finish the torture.
Scott’s an interesting guy. Came from the same company as my old boss, Kevin, who was also promoted. Scott had become the closest thing I had to a lunch buddy before the big promo. We’ll have to see now if that turns into an opportunity for me to do some sucking up. Shortly after he started I found out that his dad was just a couple years older than me. I feel old enough without that.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
April 11, 2009 Columbus
In the same sense that necessity is the mother of invention, it is amazing what you can learn or accomplish when you are presented with a set of circumstances that may not be appealing. In my particular case I learned as I sat in my seat on the flight back to Phoenix that all you need to do to get a row of seats all to yourself is to put on a surgical mask and sit in the aisle seat. People walk by you as if you have an emerging case of the coodies. They quickly move by just hoping not to catch whatever this guys seems to have. I’m going to have to buy a case of these things.
Of course, the reason that I ventured to Columbus this weekend was to see my good friend Terry Quinn. As you might remember, I viewed this trip with an air of anticipation, but also one of concern. My real fear was that this would be the last time I would ever get to see Terry. Certainly when I got to the hospital, my gravest concerns were met.
It was 10 in the morning and Terry was alone in his room sleeping. The full head of air was gone replaced by a thin patchy one that was snow white. Terry was prematurely gray and had always dyed it. He decided to stop doing that a year or so ago, but seeing him there like that made me more than unsettled. After talking to him on the phone during the week, I was afraid that he didn’t have much time left.
Shortly after 10:15 a doctor entered the room and woke him. After a brief discussion, Terry noticed me and smiled somewhat weakly as he struggled to stay awake. We spoke for a little bit before he fell back asleep in mid sentence. It continued this way for the first hours, but he gradually began to become more alive as we started talking more.
Terry has been fighting prostate cancer now since last summer. He has undergone more tests and therapies than I can count. As he laid there, he had more tubes running in and out of him than God ever intended. Yet, as the day wore on, he continued to perk up and even joke with me.
By mid day, the transformation was amazing. He not only was sitting up, but he had that old sparkle in his eyes. We talked about everything under the sun from disco lessons to the days of using the telephones on the tables to try to meet women at Max and Erma’s on ladies night. Those of you not from the area or just too dog gone young to remember, but Max and Erma’s is a Columbus based chain of restaurants that has been around for years. They used to have telephones on each table that would allow you to call any table in the place to start up a conversation.
Sadly at the time, Terry and I talked more about calling the women than actually calling them. It makes for a great story, but we spent more time scoring while playing Space Invaders than scoring with women. I think that drove us to being lasting friends more than anything. It didn’t matter if we accomplished our stated goals, we always had fun.
Today was no different. Even though both of us have our personal battles with cancer, none of that mattered, we were back together talking about better days. We did that for almost ten hours as the day passed rather quickly. But as the hours passed, I realized just how wrong I was about Terry’s fate. He still had a level of fight in him that I couldn’t read over the telephone.
He was, in fact, starting a new round of chemotherapy today. It would be a pill a day that wouldn’t be as invasive as others he had tried, but it did give a level of hope that I didn’t have when I arrived. The fact that both Terry and the doctors felt that there still was some level of hope made me feel that maybe all of the prayers that everyone has been sharing was not only doing good things for me but also for Terry. This certainly isn’t any guarantee that he will ever leave the hospital, but it and his attitude gives me a level of hope that I didn’t have when I got there. Maybe God can come up with one more miracle.
I did well all day to keep the tears away until about an hour before I left. I knew leaving would be hard and as the time drew near, I started to well up. Not an “Old Yeller” flow of tears, but more than I wanted to do while I was still there. It did, however, get me down the road that I needed to go.
One of the problem with being a guy, we sometimes find it hard to say what we should to our friends and family. I finally got the courage to tell Terry what his 30 years of friendship had meant to me. He had certainly made a difference in my life and I wanted him to know it. I just hope that I will get another chance to tell him the same things in person in the future.
I’m sure the people around me wonder why the guy in the mask now has tears in his eyes. It’s probably best that I wrap things up before it becomes a full gusher. Over the next few days, I will talk more about the transplant and the next steps. Keep the prayers coming.
Of course, the reason that I ventured to Columbus this weekend was to see my good friend Terry Quinn. As you might remember, I viewed this trip with an air of anticipation, but also one of concern. My real fear was that this would be the last time I would ever get to see Terry. Certainly when I got to the hospital, my gravest concerns were met.
It was 10 in the morning and Terry was alone in his room sleeping. The full head of air was gone replaced by a thin patchy one that was snow white. Terry was prematurely gray and had always dyed it. He decided to stop doing that a year or so ago, but seeing him there like that made me more than unsettled. After talking to him on the phone during the week, I was afraid that he didn’t have much time left.
Shortly after 10:15 a doctor entered the room and woke him. After a brief discussion, Terry noticed me and smiled somewhat weakly as he struggled to stay awake. We spoke for a little bit before he fell back asleep in mid sentence. It continued this way for the first hours, but he gradually began to become more alive as we started talking more.
Terry has been fighting prostate cancer now since last summer. He has undergone more tests and therapies than I can count. As he laid there, he had more tubes running in and out of him than God ever intended. Yet, as the day wore on, he continued to perk up and even joke with me.
By mid day, the transformation was amazing. He not only was sitting up, but he had that old sparkle in his eyes. We talked about everything under the sun from disco lessons to the days of using the telephones on the tables to try to meet women at Max and Erma’s on ladies night. Those of you not from the area or just too dog gone young to remember, but Max and Erma’s is a Columbus based chain of restaurants that has been around for years. They used to have telephones on each table that would allow you to call any table in the place to start up a conversation.
Sadly at the time, Terry and I talked more about calling the women than actually calling them. It makes for a great story, but we spent more time scoring while playing Space Invaders than scoring with women. I think that drove us to being lasting friends more than anything. It didn’t matter if we accomplished our stated goals, we always had fun.
Today was no different. Even though both of us have our personal battles with cancer, none of that mattered, we were back together talking about better days. We did that for almost ten hours as the day passed rather quickly. But as the hours passed, I realized just how wrong I was about Terry’s fate. He still had a level of fight in him that I couldn’t read over the telephone.
He was, in fact, starting a new round of chemotherapy today. It would be a pill a day that wouldn’t be as invasive as others he had tried, but it did give a level of hope that I didn’t have when I arrived. The fact that both Terry and the doctors felt that there still was some level of hope made me feel that maybe all of the prayers that everyone has been sharing was not only doing good things for me but also for Terry. This certainly isn’t any guarantee that he will ever leave the hospital, but it and his attitude gives me a level of hope that I didn’t have when I got there. Maybe God can come up with one more miracle.
I did well all day to keep the tears away until about an hour before I left. I knew leaving would be hard and as the time drew near, I started to well up. Not an “Old Yeller” flow of tears, but more than I wanted to do while I was still there. It did, however, get me down the road that I needed to go.
One of the problem with being a guy, we sometimes find it hard to say what we should to our friends and family. I finally got the courage to tell Terry what his 30 years of friendship had meant to me. He had certainly made a difference in my life and I wanted him to know it. I just hope that I will get another chance to tell him the same things in person in the future.
I’m sure the people around me wonder why the guy in the mask now has tears in his eyes. It’s probably best that I wrap things up before it becomes a full gusher. Over the next few days, I will talk more about the transplant and the next steps. Keep the prayers coming.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
April 8, 2009 Mayo Clinic
Boring Alert-----If you are looking for brilliant comedy or tear jerking commentary, it’s not happening today. This is a technical (at least as technical as I can get) and long discussion of where I am and where we will be going in the next two months.
Julia and I met with Dr. Mikhael for the second time today and he was as informative as he was the first time we met. He went over the lab work that took place last week, including the infamous 24 hour urine study. Obviously, this was a group of tests that I didn’t have to study for as it appears that I aced them. Both my blood and urine have improved significantly since my first set of tests on February 24.
Between February 24 and April 3, the change in my bodily functions was significant. I’m going to give some raw data that doesn’t mean a great deal other than the fact that there was a huge change in that five week time span. All of these are important markers, but don’t ask me what they mean:
Hemoglobin improved from 10.6 to 12.8 where 13.2 is the low end of normal.
Red blood cells improved from 3.00 to 3.89 where 4.21 is the low end of normal.
White blood cells went from 2.3 to 3.4 where 4.2 is the low end of normal.
Sodium, potassium, calcium and total protein are all in the normal range.
Creatinine seems stuck at 2.3 but that is still an improvement over the 2.9 of February 24. This signifies that my kidneys are improved but still less than 50%. This may never improve.
The total protein in my urine was down from 522 to 121 with the high end of normal at 102.
The M-spike showed a drop of 361 to 61. This should be 0.
Lambda free light chain was down from 65.8 to 12.8 with the high end of normal at 2.63.
If you just look at the numbers, they don’t mean a whole lot. The fact that there were such huge drops especially in the last three, which shows that the cancer has been reduced, signifies that the chemotherapy is working. Not only is it working, it is working at an accelerated rate.
What this all means is that I will undergo one more session of chemo and probably be ready for the stem cell transplant. Good news all around.
Assuming that we can get UnitedHealthcare to approve the out of network procedure at Mayo (which is certainly not a given) this is the approximate schedule going forward:
Week of May 4—a series of tests that will hopefully show that my heart, lungs and kidneys are all in good enough shape to handle the chemo.
Week of May 11—a series of injections that will stimulate the growth of stem cells in my body
Week of May 18—If all goes well with the tests, I will then have anywhere from one to three four-hour sessions where I will be hooked up to a machine that will take blood out of one arm, send it through a filter and then shoot it back into the other arm. This is the stem cell harvest. When complete, they will be frozen.
Week of June 2—I will enter the hospital and undergo a rather aggressive round of chemotherapy. This will be a completely different drug than I have taken thus far. It is designed to completely wipe out my immune system. These treatments, in addition to killing cancer cells, also destroy the blood-producing cells in the bone marrow, hence the need for the stem cell transplant. This little vacation will include mouth sores, nausea, loss of appetite, an even more advanced state of baldness than I currently enjoy, vomiting, diarrhea and skin rash. I think I can get a two for one coupon if anyone would like to join me.
A couple of days later, I will receive my stem cells back in similar fashion to a blood transfusion. The cells will then begin their job of producing new red and white blood cells.
I will be in the hospital for two to three weeks and then be sent home. It appears that Julia and I will then be lining up a divorce attorney as I will have to work from home for the next three months. The only way she can put up with me now is because she has an eight hour escape from me everyday. If I don’t go nuts during that period of time, I’m not sure I ever will. I tried to go back to work the day I left the hospital the first time, before my boss threw me out.
If everything works as planned and I go into remission, I will become a cancer survivor. I plan on staying that way a long time despite the normal remission time of only 18-24 months. My plan is to (oh God, I can’t believe I am saying this) eat healthier and do whatever I can to be cancer free.
The next few months will be interesting, stay tuned for further developments.
Julia and I met with Dr. Mikhael for the second time today and he was as informative as he was the first time we met. He went over the lab work that took place last week, including the infamous 24 hour urine study. Obviously, this was a group of tests that I didn’t have to study for as it appears that I aced them. Both my blood and urine have improved significantly since my first set of tests on February 24.
Between February 24 and April 3, the change in my bodily functions was significant. I’m going to give some raw data that doesn’t mean a great deal other than the fact that there was a huge change in that five week time span. All of these are important markers, but don’t ask me what they mean:
Hemoglobin improved from 10.6 to 12.8 where 13.2 is the low end of normal.
Red blood cells improved from 3.00 to 3.89 where 4.21 is the low end of normal.
White blood cells went from 2.3 to 3.4 where 4.2 is the low end of normal.
Sodium, potassium, calcium and total protein are all in the normal range.
Creatinine seems stuck at 2.3 but that is still an improvement over the 2.9 of February 24. This signifies that my kidneys are improved but still less than 50%. This may never improve.
The total protein in my urine was down from 522 to 121 with the high end of normal at 102.
The M-spike showed a drop of 361 to 61. This should be 0.
Lambda free light chain was down from 65.8 to 12.8 with the high end of normal at 2.63.
If you just look at the numbers, they don’t mean a whole lot. The fact that there were such huge drops especially in the last three, which shows that the cancer has been reduced, signifies that the chemotherapy is working. Not only is it working, it is working at an accelerated rate.
What this all means is that I will undergo one more session of chemo and probably be ready for the stem cell transplant. Good news all around.
Assuming that we can get UnitedHealthcare to approve the out of network procedure at Mayo (which is certainly not a given) this is the approximate schedule going forward:
Week of May 4—a series of tests that will hopefully show that my heart, lungs and kidneys are all in good enough shape to handle the chemo.
Week of May 11—a series of injections that will stimulate the growth of stem cells in my body
Week of May 18—If all goes well with the tests, I will then have anywhere from one to three four-hour sessions where I will be hooked up to a machine that will take blood out of one arm, send it through a filter and then shoot it back into the other arm. This is the stem cell harvest. When complete, they will be frozen.
Week of June 2—I will enter the hospital and undergo a rather aggressive round of chemotherapy. This will be a completely different drug than I have taken thus far. It is designed to completely wipe out my immune system. These treatments, in addition to killing cancer cells, also destroy the blood-producing cells in the bone marrow, hence the need for the stem cell transplant. This little vacation will include mouth sores, nausea, loss of appetite, an even more advanced state of baldness than I currently enjoy, vomiting, diarrhea and skin rash. I think I can get a two for one coupon if anyone would like to join me.
A couple of days later, I will receive my stem cells back in similar fashion to a blood transfusion. The cells will then begin their job of producing new red and white blood cells.
I will be in the hospital for two to three weeks and then be sent home. It appears that Julia and I will then be lining up a divorce attorney as I will have to work from home for the next three months. The only way she can put up with me now is because she has an eight hour escape from me everyday. If I don’t go nuts during that period of time, I’m not sure I ever will. I tried to go back to work the day I left the hospital the first time, before my boss threw me out.
If everything works as planned and I go into remission, I will become a cancer survivor. I plan on staying that way a long time despite the normal remission time of only 18-24 months. My plan is to (oh God, I can’t believe I am saying this) eat healthier and do whatever I can to be cancer free.
The next few months will be interesting, stay tuned for further developments.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
April 7, 2009 The Trip Home
This coming weekend is one I have looked forward to for some time, yet at the same time I’m dreading it. You see, I finally talked myself into getting on a plane and flying back to Columbus. With the chemotherapy that has been going on, I have been reluctant to get into the germ infested cesspool more commonly referred to as a airplane. For four hours each way, I get to breath in everyone else’s germs several times. Luckily, I have a medical mask that I will throw on after I get into the plane. This, of course, will be the trip that the a future Playboy bunny will sit next to me and wonder what’s up with the guy in the goofy mask.
The reason that I am risking life and limb is to see my good friend Terry. For those of you that have been reading along, you are well aware of Terry’s plight with prostate cancer. It has gotten to the point where he is home but pretty much bed ridden. This has to bother Terry more than anything as he has always been a guy on the move ready to make the next big deal.
I really am looking forward to seeing Terry because it has been over five months since I have seen him, well before I found out my own malady. He was still wearing his snake skin shoes with the wild colored shirt and pants. We, of course, met at Hooters so that we could have an in depth conversation about the economy and other pressing world issues.
It will be good to get back together just to talk about the old times. I’m just hoping that he is strong enough to deal with me all day Saturday. I land at 9:15 PM on Friday night and leave at 12:30 PM on Sunday, so this trip is just to see him.
The reason that I am not looking forward to the trip is that I know that I am eventually going to have to say good- bye in one way or another and I am already choking up just writing this. I really don’t want it to be the case, but there is a high likelihood that I won’t see Terry again. After I get home, I will be tied up in my own situation including the eventual stem cell transplant.
I’m sure that the day will be filled with both laughs and tears but I hope more of the former. It will be tough enough seeing him confined to a bed without his thick hair, but I don’t want it to become a wake. I need to remember Terry laughing because that is what we always did. We laughed at a lot of things, but usually ourselves. Laughter fuelled our friendship and that is the way it has to continue no matter how good or bad we each feel.
Think of us Saturday evening as we probably say our last in person good-bye. We’ll need your prayers to get through it.
The reason that I am risking life and limb is to see my good friend Terry. For those of you that have been reading along, you are well aware of Terry’s plight with prostate cancer. It has gotten to the point where he is home but pretty much bed ridden. This has to bother Terry more than anything as he has always been a guy on the move ready to make the next big deal.
I really am looking forward to seeing Terry because it has been over five months since I have seen him, well before I found out my own malady. He was still wearing his snake skin shoes with the wild colored shirt and pants. We, of course, met at Hooters so that we could have an in depth conversation about the economy and other pressing world issues.
It will be good to get back together just to talk about the old times. I’m just hoping that he is strong enough to deal with me all day Saturday. I land at 9:15 PM on Friday night and leave at 12:30 PM on Sunday, so this trip is just to see him.
The reason that I am not looking forward to the trip is that I know that I am eventually going to have to say good- bye in one way or another and I am already choking up just writing this. I really don’t want it to be the case, but there is a high likelihood that I won’t see Terry again. After I get home, I will be tied up in my own situation including the eventual stem cell transplant.
I’m sure that the day will be filled with both laughs and tears but I hope more of the former. It will be tough enough seeing him confined to a bed without his thick hair, but I don’t want it to become a wake. I need to remember Terry laughing because that is what we always did. We laughed at a lot of things, but usually ourselves. Laughter fuelled our friendship and that is the way it has to continue no matter how good or bad we each feel.
Think of us Saturday evening as we probably say our last in person good-bye. We’ll need your prayers to get through it.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
April 3, 2009 Pokes and Prods and Zaps, Oh My
I think I am to the point where I need to just quit my job and go full time on the cancer gig I’ve got going. I feel like I need to ask for a raise, but I’m just not sure who the boss is? To give you an idea of my day, it certainly was more dominated by medical facilities than my place of work.
I started off the day as I usually do on Fridays by going to get a treatment of chemo. It seems like my right arm is ready for a vacation. Twice this week, Jerri and Sammi failed to get any blood out of that arm and had to jump over to the left one. They usually go back and forth depending on the day.
I then drove over to work so I could get ready for an interview for an ingredient buyer that I have been looking for nine months. The interview went well so the day wasn’t a total loss. I then had to drive up to the Mayo Clinic which is 40 minutes away from work to get a blood test and drop off my 24 hour urine test. (More about that later.) The tech was able to get blood out of the right arm so maybe it just needed a short rest and not a full vacation.
Then back in the car and off to radiation. That is also in Scottsdale, but about 20 minutes away. For a change I didn’t have to wait very long and was in and out of there pretty quickly. Twelve down and only thirteen of those to go. So finally back and the car and off to work. After talking to my fellow interviewers, I decided to offer the guy the job. Put together the offer with HR and shot out of there to get home and hopefully take a nap. This working for a living is starting to get to me.
I’m starting to feel like the Stooges without Larry and Moe. I can’t seem to do any kind of medical thing without some kind of hitch. Nobody to blame but myself on this one, however. One of the tests that the Mayo Clinic had me do was a 24 hour urine collection. They give you this big jug that you have to keep refrigerated between uses. Have to make sure you keep it way from the lemonade. (Just so you are not grossed out, I kept it in a cooler with ice.)
Because I have chemo the day I have to turn it in, I go through a lot of liquids. One of the things they want you to do is stay hydrated so your veins are flush. So needless to say, I’m filling up the 100 oz. container pretty well. Only problem is that the last fill was about 4 AM in the morning, half asleep.
When I get to the Mayo, I take the container out of the cooler and put it in a brown paper bag. Didn’t really want everyone in the hospital to see me toting 24 hours worth of body waste down the hallways. As I am walking to the drop off location, I feel the liquid sloshing around the container but really didn’t give it much thought. That was until my arm stated getting colder faster than it should have.
It was then that a frightening thought went through my head, “There isn’t any way that this stupid thing could be leaking?” I got to the lab, opened the bag and to my horrors the jug was swimming in a pool of liquid. Just at that point the attendant walked up and asked if she could help me. Imagine having to explain to someone that you have never met that you aren’t an idiot that can’t even close a sample container right.
After telling her of my plight, she put on a pair of gloves and attempted to wipe off the container. She then held up a trash can so that I could throw away the leaking bag. I then quickly dashed away hoping that Larry and Moe would show up to get me out of there.
I started off the day as I usually do on Fridays by going to get a treatment of chemo. It seems like my right arm is ready for a vacation. Twice this week, Jerri and Sammi failed to get any blood out of that arm and had to jump over to the left one. They usually go back and forth depending on the day.
I then drove over to work so I could get ready for an interview for an ingredient buyer that I have been looking for nine months. The interview went well so the day wasn’t a total loss. I then had to drive up to the Mayo Clinic which is 40 minutes away from work to get a blood test and drop off my 24 hour urine test. (More about that later.) The tech was able to get blood out of the right arm so maybe it just needed a short rest and not a full vacation.
Then back in the car and off to radiation. That is also in Scottsdale, but about 20 minutes away. For a change I didn’t have to wait very long and was in and out of there pretty quickly. Twelve down and only thirteen of those to go. So finally back and the car and off to work. After talking to my fellow interviewers, I decided to offer the guy the job. Put together the offer with HR and shot out of there to get home and hopefully take a nap. This working for a living is starting to get to me.
I’m starting to feel like the Stooges without Larry and Moe. I can’t seem to do any kind of medical thing without some kind of hitch. Nobody to blame but myself on this one, however. One of the tests that the Mayo Clinic had me do was a 24 hour urine collection. They give you this big jug that you have to keep refrigerated between uses. Have to make sure you keep it way from the lemonade. (Just so you are not grossed out, I kept it in a cooler with ice.)
Because I have chemo the day I have to turn it in, I go through a lot of liquids. One of the things they want you to do is stay hydrated so your veins are flush. So needless to say, I’m filling up the 100 oz. container pretty well. Only problem is that the last fill was about 4 AM in the morning, half asleep.
When I get to the Mayo, I take the container out of the cooler and put it in a brown paper bag. Didn’t really want everyone in the hospital to see me toting 24 hours worth of body waste down the hallways. As I am walking to the drop off location, I feel the liquid sloshing around the container but really didn’t give it much thought. That was until my arm stated getting colder faster than it should have.
It was then that a frightening thought went through my head, “There isn’t any way that this stupid thing could be leaking?” I got to the lab, opened the bag and to my horrors the jug was swimming in a pool of liquid. Just at that point the attendant walked up and asked if she could help me. Imagine having to explain to someone that you have never met that you aren’t an idiot that can’t even close a sample container right.
After telling her of my plight, she put on a pair of gloves and attempted to wipe off the container. She then held up a trash can so that I could throw away the leaking bag. I then quickly dashed away hoping that Larry and Moe would show up to get me out of there.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
March 31, 2009 Baseball
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.
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.
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.)
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