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.
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