“As you are aware,”
my Oncologist said...
and, immediately my mind went to...
“I
hate that sh_t when a doctor starts off like that, especially an
Oncologist,”
I thought to myself...
and, as soon as I did, I
triggered a finite set if involuntary memories that splattered in my
head like roadkill on an Interstate Highway, right before you get
caught for speeding by “The Law.”
And, in my memory reflections, I
thought:
at 10... I was naively innocent
at 20... I was unavailable and
unattainable
at 30... I was stupidly foolish
at 40... I was reluctantly cautious
at 50... I was fraught with pride and
ego
at 60... I was physically and
emotionally humbled
It is odd, I mused and at 67, I find
myself musing a lot and I know not why I now muse but I do and I
reflected when younger than 50 and I know that for sure.
And, in this muse, I was wondering why
I was reflecting on those decades and labeling as I did because I
surely could and probably would have assigned another phrase to each
of those decades if I had been in another mood or if it had been
another day, but that was not these... and, it was today...
I looked thoughtfully at my Oncologist
and nodded in agreement as he continued, “when you returned
to me...” and, “there he goes with that sh_t
again... it wasn't my fault... I moved out-of-town for business,”
I thought to myself, starting to
get annoyed.
“your blood work indicated that
you had lost your immunity... your red count was down; your white
count was down; you platelets were down, and your hemoglobin was
down... so, we became treating you for that and it looks like today
you have made a surprising recovery from all of that...”
“So really... what was I supposed to think here... at this
point... I mean, isn't this your job doc,” I wondered to
myself if I should ask this or perhaps was it even fair for me to
this this shi_t?
“I put you on a maintenance
program because of a previous CT scan and the scan last week shows
absolute no change...”
“Well now,”
I thought to myself, “this
is the kinda sh_t that I wanted to hear...” smiling
like Jack Nicholson in the movie, As
Good As It Gets,
and you know exactly which scene I mean.
“We will
continue the maintenance program for another 6 months when I see you
again...” the Oncologist
said confidently, and extending his hand forward for a traditional
handshake said, “nice to see you again,”
whereupon he left the room.
I
looked at myself in the mirror as if to say... “You've
got to be kiddin' me... I paid forty dollars for this sh_t?”
Now don't get me wrong here... this guy is very good, and probably
one of the best blood Oncologists in the State maybe even the
Nation... but, he could have sent an NP to tell me this sh_t and I
would not have had to wait 45 minutes in the lobby and another 30
minutes in the exam room... but, I suppose this is just the way it
is...
Ok, gotcha... I forgot you did not know... NP is Nurse Practitioner...
Once I get past the office visit, the rest of the time simply flies
by... I boogie on down to check out and set up another appointment
for the month after next, then over to the lab, where I did not get a
chance to check emails on my cell phone before my name is called and
I am taken back to the Cherry Suite where I have my choice of chairs
among 6 available.
I pick the one by the window because it is typically cooler and plop
myself down in the recliner but only after visiting the restroom. In
less than 5 minutes, a nurse (not sure what kind and I never thought
to ask actually) comes out and asks which arm (for the infusion).
This
nurse has a chance of sticking me 3 times and on the 3rd
failed attempt the nurse must turn it over to someone else for
another 3 sticks if necessary. Every once in a while, I get 4 sticks
but mainly it is only 1 and occasionally I is 2... but, if that
nurse has to go for 3, then it means I get 4 sticks because that has
happened in every single situation since I started this chemo stuff
in 2007.
In fact, today's infusion brought me up to 65 chemo treatment...
and, the horrible memory of how “wicked” some of those treatments
were 2-3 days later.
The cocktails that I have had, have been administered to me in the
following order:
Rituxin
Rituxan-Fludara-Cytoxin
Rituxan-Triandra
Rituxan
The second cocktail was by fair the worst. I would have 3 chemo
treatments on back-to-back days, like Tuesday, Wednesday, and
Thursady lasting 2-3 hours on Tuesday and Wednesday, 6-8 hours on
Thursdays. On those Fridays after the treatments, I was so pumped up
on steroids, I felt like Hercules himself... without the muscles or
the women....
But, on Saturdays and Sundays, I slept and spent most of my days in
the bathroom lying on the floor and not because I wanted to but
because I wanted to make I got there in time and in some cases, I was
too weak to walk back to the bed.
About every 20-30 minutes, around the clock, for those 2 days, I
would break out in a heated sweat but only from the waist up where
perspiration dripped off on me like I had just climbed out of a
hottub which would leave me dizzy, disoriented, and faint and nausea
would swarm around me like yellow jackets do when you tamper with
their hives, especially in the ground.
The vomiting may or may not take place every time, but if it did, my
body would be arched up as if some giant person was standing over me
with both arms locked together around my stomach and pulling me up in
jerking motions while I tried to remain attached to the ground.
Sometimes
on Sundays, this cycle was intermittent while at the same time
relentless and lasted longer; for instance, it might last for 90
minutes straight but then there would be nothing for a couple of
hours and on those occasions, my wife would take me to the emergency
room which typically is not covered by health insurance where for
$150 +/but no minus, I would get myself pumped full of liquids and my
“better than an dog
friend,” Zofran which
had an IMMEDIATE reaction on me.
Cocktail #3 had the same 1-2 days of sickness but on a scale of 1-10
would rank about maybe 2-3 but it still left me weak, tired, and
drained.
So far, no radiation and no loss of hair (which is peculiar to me
only) and no extreme or any (for that matter) loss of weight; in
fact, I have gained 35 pounds over the course of 2-3 years, even with
me walking fast 30 minutes a day, at least 5 days a week, sometimes 7
days.
We have a tread mill and have decided that I will not just be
reducing my meals and eating 6 times a day but I will walk briskly on
the treadmill for 20 minutes, 3 times a day until this weight is
again under control.
Ordinarily, the weight would not be a serious problem for me but I
have also suffered a severe heart attack, have 5 stents inserts into
3 left side heart arteries and will have heart disease for the rest
of my life.
I have been blessed with the fact that my cancer is mild and rather
controllable at least for the time being. Some cancers, like bad
leaders and leadership, will have you dead in 3-6 months. And, I
have been told that mine could change into that... and, I suppose
that when it does that I will just put my head between my legs and
kiss my butt goodbye.
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