Chemo is Serious!

Later in the day, after the visit to the radiologist, we had an educational and training session in the oncology office. After hearing positive stories from friends about people that took chemo in a simple pill form with no side effects, we were in for shocking news. Yes, my cancer is treatable and curable, but there will be chemical warfare inside my body.

I will be loading my body with 23 drugs, some orally and some intravenously. I will need to visit the oncology office a couple times per week. Some of the drugs need to be administered on differing days from other ones. My pill intake will also vary daily. I must strickly follow a calendared regime--specific pills must follow certain IV drugs. Many of the drugs are designed to treat the side effects of the cancer killing chemicals. These include antibiotics, anti-fungal drugs, steroids, anti-nausea drugs, fever preventing medications, drugs to help strengthen my immune system, etcetera.

Typically, many of the worst symptoms of chemotherapy occur several days after the injection. Loss of appetite, fatigue, constipation, nausea will likely be problems. There will probably be days when I don't feel like eating at all. My mouth, throat, and digestive tract will be sore. I am suppose to wash my hands frequently and call for emergency care if I get a fever over 100.5 degrees.

Good news: I can drink alcohol, have sex, and eat anything I want. Bad news: I probably won't be interested in any of those things. Neutral news: I will lose my hair. More sobering news was that I should plan on recovering for a month after chemotherapy before trying to return to work or a normal lifestyle.

Lots of information to read this weekend about cancer treatments, how to keep your weight up, and drug side effects to watch for. The surreal part of my journey seems very real now.

Deadly Radiation

The image on the right is the PET Scan showing my torso with my neck at the top. The radioactive dye showing in the bottom of the picture is in my bladder where it is accumulating after an hour. The bright spot in the upper right is under my left arm. That is the lymphoma with a large mass nearly 5 centimeters wide with a couple of smaller masses adjacent to it. There are no other bright spots in the lymph nodes or bones and thus my cancer is localized.

Today the radiologist discussed these pictures with Viola and me. My consult with him was most informative. I got some more good news in that Hodgkin's has 4 subsets and mine is the type most responsive to treatment. My chemotherapy will completely dissolve the tumors. Three to four weeks after chemotherapy, I will begin daily radiation treatments for four weeks to reduce any possibility of a future return of the cancer.

The radiation will be relatively safe for me since it is in a small area and not overlaying much of my body. However, it is somewhat behind my lung and I will be left with a little scarring in the lung. The radiation is a short treatment which normally doesn't cause too many side effects. It will primarily leave a sunburn feeling in the area. This all sounded pretty good to Viola and I, other than my treatment extending well into May.

(Please note the whiteness in the brain showing massive brain capacity and a giant heart shadow indicating swelling from positive energy)

The Results Are In--And the Winner is...

Class 1!!!!!!!
Last night, after 5 long, anxious days, I got a call from my oncologist with the results of my PET Scan. The news was excellent- class 1 meaning that my cancer is localized to one area only. The worst class for lymphoma is class 4 meaning the cancer has spread throughout the body and bone marrow transplants may be necessary.

Earlier in the day, I had a post-op visit with the surgeon. He said everything looked good. The lump under the surgical cut was normal with lymph biopsies and is referred to as a healing ridge. It felt more like a mountain range for more than a week. I couldn't let my arm close to my body without causing pain. Viola teased me as I walked around the house with one hand on my hip.

The good news leaked out by the surgeon before lunch had us celebrating. The oncologist sobered us up a little with the treatment protocol. I will need weekly transfusions of 7 drugs which may be administered through a port in my arm. That will last for 8 weeks after which I will begin 4 weeks of daily radiation treatments. That news sure made the cancer seem real.

But I am ready to win this one now and hope to get started next week. Yes, that wise Indian once told me to always look forward and never back.

I Become Radioactive- The PET Scan

My PET Scan is set for Friday, 1-23-09. The PET Scan will determine the location, and hopefully not locations, of my cancer and the actual size of it. Preparing for a PET Scan is interesting. The day before you have go on a no-carb diet which includes no drinking juices, coffee, milk, tea with caffeine, or any sweetened drink. So, it is herbal tea, water and diet soda pop. Eating is restricted to vegetables (yeah!), meat, cheese, and nuts. At least it is only one day and a breakfast of eggs and sausage wasn't bad.

The PET Scan starts with the injection of a sugar solution with a radioactive dye. Because the body has been deprived of carbs, it quickly absorbs the radioactive solution. The most actively metabolizing body parts absorb the most dye and show up brighter on the films. This means the cancer cells which are actively growing will stand out from my other body cells on the films.

After relaxing for an hour following the radioactive injection, I was placed on a large tray that moves into the PET Scan tube. The tube is narrow like an MRI machine, but it doesn't make all that noise, just a humming sound. During the hour long testing, where you can't even scratch your nose, the machinery is taking computerized pictures of my body. It was tiresome, but I was okay with my eyes closed trying not to think too much about it.

Following the PET Scan, I was given unusual instructions-- don't hug any pregnant women or children. For about 8 hours my body will be radioactive. The dye has a 2 hour half-life so it does clear out pretty quickly. I drank lots of water as instructed, but was disappointed when I didn't notice any glow in the bathroom even with the lights out.

Now for the wait to get the results. The PET Scan people get a report to my oncologist within a day. He will review the results and determine my exact treatment protocol. Viola and I are much more relaxed, but still keeping our fingers crossed that the cancer hasn't spread. I hear stories from friends who tell me about people that recovered well from Hodgkin's to a story of a person who needed a bone marrow transplant. That is a very unlikely outcome for me, but then this whole thing has been an unlikely outcome.

Time to relax, play my guitar and let the good energy flow.

A Wedge Cut of Node- Visit to the Oncologist

Only two days after seeing the surgeon, I underwent a biopsy procedure in an outpatient surgery center. The surgeon told me it would be a small cut followed by the removal of a wedge shaped piece of a lymph node. The surgery was short and I was back home in a few hours. Viola was able to speak with the surgeon following the surgery. He said my lump was much bigger than we thought. It was the size of a Meyer lemon tucked under my pectoralis muscle. It was definitely a mass of nodes, but he wouldn't offer a diagnostic impression based on the surgery.

My results came two days later. My family MD called me at work saying he had bad news. I had a malignant lymphoma. The good news was that my cancer was Hodgkin's Lymphoma, a very treatable form of cancer, especially if caught earlier. He told me he would find an oncologist who could see me quickly. He was very sympathetic to the stress of not knowing and the fears of cancer.

I called Viola and we took a big breath together. This was the big C, but we would stay positive and face it head on.

Two days later, I had an appointment with an oncologist. Luckily, there is an excellent cancer center in Santa Rosa. The surgeon provided mostly good news. He didn't palpate any additional swollen nodes and I didn't have obvious signs of advanced cancer. It would take a PET Scan, however, to rule out cancer in other parts of my body and to measure the size of the node. If the scan shows a mass less than 5 centimeters in only one area, I can have a light course of chemotherapy and probably avoid radiation treatments. There would be a 98 percent chance of a successful outcome after a six week course of chemotherapy.

The sleeping Buddha in my garden shows how to relax peacefully.

Buddy Doesn't Give Me the Blues- Visit to the Surgeon

My lab tests and x-rays all came back completely normal. That led my doctor, and Viola and I with fingers crossed, to believe I had cat scratch fever and a short course of antibiotics would cure me. I relaxed some, but still wondered if I really did have cat scratch fever. I didn't have a fever and there were no signs of an infection where the kitten caught me. The lump was also non-tender, unlike a typical infected lymph node.

I finally got the news that I did not have cat scratch fever. That was a very depressing phone call. While there was still a chance of an infected or clogged lymph node, cancer became a distinct possibility. My doctor said he would find a surgeon who could perform a biopsy within a week.

Two days later I saw a surgeon who examined me. He was truthful, but not reassuring. He didn't find any other swollen nodes, but thought that I actually had a group of nodes swollen into a large mass. When asked if my overhealth and feeling of well-being meant that I probably didn't have advanced cancer, he calmly said "No". Only a biopsy would tell us what this was and if it was a secondary site of cancer.

More stressful days as I waited for the biopsy. Looking back at planting my garden last spring brings a smile to my face.

What's this? A Visit to the MD

I was taking a shower the Sunday after Christmas when I noticed something unusual. As I moved the washcloth down my left armpit, I encountered a large lump. I quickly finished my shower and became very alarmed when I looked into the mirror. A lump larger than a golf ball appeared under my arm as I raised it. With my medical background, I knew this was in the lymph nodes and that it could mean cancer--even a secondary metastasis from another part of the body.

I quickly showed it to Viola. We tried not to race ahead to scary thoughts of inoperable tumors, but it's impossible to entirely stop the brain from those thoughts. I tossed and turned in bed that night trying to believe, without a lot of success, that this would turn out to be a minor infection.

I was able to see my family MD after two nights of worrying. He was visibly concerned when he saw the lump. Like me, he wondered if it was a sudden growth which might indicate an infection. It was hard for me to imagine that I hadn't noticed it previously, however, it only protruded when my arm was fully extended. The doctor ordered lab tests and chest x-rays. He included a test for cat-scratch fever which would take ten days for the results. Two weeks earlier I had been playing with a kitten at the home of friends. I teased a kitten named Buddy Guy and discovered he had much faster reaction times than mine. A small scratch on my finger didn't seem like much at the time. Now, we crossed our fingers that Buddy had given me a fever.

Our 25 year old cat sleeping in her favorite place behind the ancient Buddha stele knew how to soak in the good vibes.

The Journey Begins- What's going on?

Last September, I developed a cold prior to a 3 1/2 week trip to Europe. It still lingered as we departed in October. I am generally very healthy and found it odd when I seemed to get reinfected on our river cruise. I had good days and bad days, but seemed to have a runny nose and cough the entire time. After 16 days, we visited our grandson in London who was also sick with a cold. I thought I would be immune to it, but a few days later got very sick. We plodded through 5 days of wet and cold weather in Paris with me worsening each day. During our final 2 days in Amsterdam, I could do little more than lay in bed. Even a short walk caused me to break into a sweat.

The trip home took over 24 hours due to weather delays. I visited my doctor the first day home and was diagnosed with pneumonia-- a first for me. It seemed to slowly respond to antibiotics, but my sinuses remained clogged. Back to my MD a few weeks later and I was given another prescription for antibiotics to fight a chronic sinus infection--another first for me. Weeks went by until I finally seemed to be past my body's rambunctious mucus production. It seemed odd that I had been sick for so long and found it so difficult to get over my illnesses.