The Final Stand - Day 17

Good evening everyone.

Today's blog is going to be short; I'm not feeling so hot tonight and would like to hot the sack in the next hour or so.

I woke-up this morning at 4:30. I forgot about the added adrenaline in the chemo treatment, so needless to say, I didn't get the greatest night's sleep. I convinced the dogs to come downstairs with me, that was I could afford Jess a couple extra minutes of shuteye without having two dogs waking her up at THEIR scheduled time.

My throat is starting to hurt as if it were well on its way to being Strep. The dryness is increasingly annoying. I can control the moisture in my mouth using a few different rinses, but they do very little for the throat. I take a spoon full of honey multiple times a day as its supposed to sooth the dryness and pain. My neck skin is still looking good. Pink, but not burned and without pain. The tinnitus is still kicking in from time to time... I'm really hoping I do not end up with more permanent hearing loss than I already have. My headaches come and go. They are mostly mild and easily controlled with my pain meds. I had to increase my intake of anti-constipation meds today because I can tell I'm slightly backed-up. 

Jess went to work, but insisted on coming home in time to shuttle me to my appointment. She didn't want me to forgo my pain medications in an attempt to drive myself.

My appointment went well today. Jess and I met a new couple. The wife is the cancer patient. She has ovarian cancer and has been battling it since September. She is only 11 radiation treatments away from completion, which was ironic since this was my 11th treatment.

For the first time ever... the radiation treatment itself made me feel ill. I was slightly uneasy following today's appointment. I haven't been full blown nauseated, but felt it would not take much to get me to that point.

On the way home, we stopped at Sports Clips so I could have my ears lowered. I hadn't a haircut in almost two months. This would be six weeks longer than I usually go. So, I'm pleased to say, I am back in military regulations. I imagine this might be my last for another month or two...

Once home, I really felt the effects of fatigue. Jess took the kids to the pool so I could have a quiet house. I crashed in bed and took a much needed nap. When I awoke, I felt rested, yet uneasy. My appetite has escaped me, but I managed to get in some calories by drinking plenty of Ensure.

I'm hoping my body shakes the crud while I sleep tonight. I usually feel off for the first day or two following chemo, but this week was way worse than the previous two. I will most definitely up my water intake as this usually helps flush the chemo from my system quicker. I'll let you know how tomorrow goes soon enough.

A special shout-out to Jeremy for the much needed morale call!

The Final Stand - Day 16

Hello Earthlings!

Today is day one of week three... and let me tell you! Today has been quite the escapade. Jess has a annual Air Force physical fitness test this morning and Connor left for a week long church camp. And to make matters more complex... I had both chemotherapy and radiation appointments today, at two different locations.

Jess and I woke-up at 5:30. We had to get ready and be out the door by 6:30 if Jess were to have enough time to drop me off at the fire department then race to the base gym where her PT test was being held.

We made it out of the house a couple minutes early. Little did we know this would become a blessing in disguise. Our normal work route was blocked by a stopped train. We had to turn around and move one exit up on the freeway in order to get on base. The time we earned by leaving early paid for the potentially costly delay.

My first appointment was 8:00. Jess dropped me off at the fire station so I could rendezvous with a fellow Master Sergent who had offered to drive me to my appointment. I was kicked to the curb, right in front of the door to the cancer center... right on time. Inside, I signed-in at the registration desk, then took my seat in the usual waiting area.

It took about 15 minutes before I was called back to give blood. The nurse who had called me bad had taken my blood before. She was pretty good... no painful, missed sticks, and no loss of blood (other than that which found its way into a vial.) Once the two vials were filled with the good stuff, the nurse bandaged me up and sent me on my way.

I headed up-stairs where I would then wait for a seat in one of the cancer treatment bays. The wait was a little longer than I would have hoped. An hour went by before my name was finally called. I knew the treatment would take at least two and half hours, which happened to be the exact amount of time before I would be expected at the radiation oncology clinic. I knew then I would be cutting it close, but I decided to test my luck before phoning over to announce my tardiness.

By the time the Cisplatin was hung, I had only an hour before I would be expected at Radiation Oncology. The Cisplatin takes exactly an hour to be delivered by a metering machine. I made the call! I let the radiation clinic know I was going to be a little late. I was informed that it might not be until 2:00 before they could squeeze me in. Jess had to have Connor at the trip by 2:45 and the drive from the hospital to the house takes 35 minutes. This day is about to get interesting.

Jess showed-up at the chemo clinic while I was still receiving my infusion. I informed her that there might be a problem. She told me not to worry... but in my gut I knew the day would only get interesting from here.

We left the chemo clinic at 12:20... my scheduled appointment time at RadOnc. The hospital was only two miles away, but lunchtime traffic made for a slow progression. I had Jess drop me off in the front hoping I could secure an acceptable time that would fit into our bust schedule.

It took Jess fifteen minutes to park. If you are guessing that she had to enter the dreadful parking structure... you would be correct. Jess and I sat there for thirty minutes before she informed me that she would need to leave. I told her to go-on and that I would attempt to catch an Uber home. So off she went. I was running solo once more!

Luckily, I had my phone, a set of headphones (a gift from a dear friend), and an internet connection. I had browsed a friend's Top 300 music album list yesterday and felt this would be a great time to research some groups I had either not heard of, or had little exposure to. It was a good thing I had something to keep my occupied, because I sat there for a good bit of time before being seen.

My zapping went well. Nothing new to report... it was quick and easy. I imagine later this week, maybe early next week, this will not be the case. The mask is very tight and I would imagine it does not feel good on burned skin. I'll count this as one of my daily blessings!

Once released from my daily intake of the sun's breath, I headed for the hospital's pick-up/drop-off area - I figured this would be a good place to request an Uber. I found a bench in the shade where I could make my request and wait. Even in the shade, it was super hot outside today. I'm very glad I decided on shorts today, as pants would have been torture.

The Uber app was acting up. Every time I attempted to request a ride, the app notified me that I needed to verify my payment method. Well... I could NOT figure out how to eradicate this problem. I added every credit card I own, plus my Apple Pay, plus my PayPal and got nothing. Every payment option came back with the same stupid message. So I did what any rational person would do in this situation... I deleted the app! I called Jess and informed her that I would need to be picked-up.

Jess was in the process of getting Connor to the church when I called. I knew this meant she would be awhile, but how could I complain? My waiting pales in comparison to the constant running around Jess has done today so that others may achieve their goals. She is extremely selfless like that... a quality I not only appreciate, but envy. I just hope she doesn't burn herself out. I do worry!

I decided it was time to eat. I had scoped out the hospital's cafeteria during my extended stay and know it to have many options for me to choose from. Once inside, I walked around analyzing my options. There was a pizza station, which I knew immediately was off limits. There was also a Subway style sandwich stand, but I was hesitant to get anything with red meat or poultry since they too hadn't set well with me in the recent past. There was a huge salad bar, but I didn't think a salad would satisfy my hunger. I needed carbs and protein!

The last two option were sushi and soup. The soup bar had Chicken Noodle and Cream of Broccoli. As good as it looked, I had to pass on the Chicken Noodle. My only worry with the Cream of Broccoli was whether or not it would taste too salty. I took a risk, knowing I have had some luck with savory dishes and green vegetables.

The sushi station was pack full of options. I knew I wanted to stick to something simple... no sauces drizzled all over... no over the top rolls packed with everything at the chefs disposal... and nothing too fishy. I saw a package of Salmon Nigiri. For the non sushi aficionado... Salmon Nigiri in a lump of white rice with a slice of raw salmon laying on top. The only other ingredient in a small dab of wasabi between the rice and the fish. This option stood out as the best possible option for two reasons. First, salmon (when fresh) has a mild, clean tasting fish which could provide me a good, untested source of protein. Two, if the fish doesn't make the cut, I can still trust that the ball of rice it is sitting on is a guaranteed win.

My attention was also drawn towards a package of edamame. I was willing to bet that as long as they weren't salted, these steamed soy beans would be a home run. Looking at the beans, I couldn't see any added salt. I grabbed those as well!

You see... I'm learning to play a new game. Normally we chose foods we like: good, tasty, succulent morsels that make out mouths water and the corners of our lips curve upwards with satisfaction. This game requires me to find foods I can tolerate. Fruits are out! As I stated earlier... red meat and poultry... out! Anything overly salty or covered in MSG... OUT! Pastas and grains are safe. The Alfredo sauce I had the other day was safe. The Phở I ate at lunch yesterday was a 50/50 win. The noodles were a hero, but the chicken was a zero.

Anyways, lunch was an overall win. All three elements (to include the raw salmon) went down with no issues what so ever. I left the cafeteria feeling full and somewhat satisfied.

Jess was only twenty minutes away by the time I finished eating. I took a look around the gift shop before finally finding my way to another bench in front of the hospital.

By the time Jess picked me up, we had about thirty minutes to get home before our new living room furniture was due to be delivered. Our old stuff was getting pretty nasty and worn out. It had seen multiple moves and the wrath of a Scottish Terrier that loves to lick the couch until its soaking wet.

Our furniture was delivered without incident around 5:00. I had just enough time to break it in with a couple episodes of M.A.S.H. before Jess had dinner ready. She made Chili-Mac, which did not meet my dead taste bud's approval. Nothing against Jess... normally I am sucker for her Chili-Mac. So... I ate Ramen noodles that were cooked in my left-over Phở broth. The noodles were fine, but I passed on slurping-up the broth (it was a bit too salty tasting).

I helped Jess clean-up the kitchen after dinner, and she rewarded me with a neck message. 

As far as my medical standing is concerned... today was a lot like yesterday. My throat continues to feel dry and scratchy. The soft tissue and gums inside my mouth continue to feel raw and sensitive to the touch. The tinnitus has come and gone half a dozen times today. It only lasts a few seconds, but very noticeable. I have a headache right now, but that is expected immediately following chemo. I expect the head-ache will following into tomorrow and probably the day after. It has taken three days to shake these head-aches following each of my first two poisonings. 

I told Jess that I could drive myself to my appointment tomorrow. I will forgo taking any pain killers so I can make the drive with a clean mind. Today was a lot for her, so manning-up through one mild head-ache seems appropriate if it means giving her a day off from playing taxi driver. 

Sorry for the extended post; today was busy!

The Final Stand - Day 15 (Memorial Day)

Greetings. I hope you all had a wonderful Memorial Day weekend. If you haven't already, please take a moment to give thanks to those brave men and women who have given their lives to this great nation so that we may be free.

I'm going to keep it short, because after all... this day is not about me. I woke-up this morning with a sore throat. The inside of my mouth feels swollen. My gums are sensitive in a couple areas and the insides of my cheeks feel a bit raw. It is crazy how radiation continues to do its work even on days I am not receiving treatments. I am also experiencing a ringing in my ears. I believe they call this tinnitus. Anyhow... it is a common side effect associated with the Cisplatin I am receiving (my chemotherapy poison).

Tomorrow starts a new week of treatments. I imagine this week is when I will encounter what we in the military like to call, "the suck". Today couldn't have been a better day to kick-off the next six weeks. Tonight, Jess and I watch "We Were Soldiers," a war film that dramatizes the Battle of la Drang in Vietnam. Not only is it a captivating movie... it is an outstanding example of the sacrifices our service members have made to ensure our safety and security as a nation. I am reminded that some have paid the ultimate sacrifice. Their lives were lost so that we may be free. One man's battle with cancer seems to pale in comparison. Sure, my life matters, and so do the lives of every other cancer warrior. I'm not trying to minimize the fact some people die from this horrific disease. One man's struggle for survival is not the same as putting your life on the line so that others may live. It is the selfless sacrifice to something bigger than one's self... that is what I'm trying to stress.

Yes... the next six weeks will suck. But, on this Memorial Day, I am reminded that history has seen countless men and women suffer much more... under extreme conditions... away from their families... odds stacked against them... their friends cut down in battle... and survive to see the light of another day. I will survive this... no matter how difficult it gets. 

The Final Stand - Day 14

Good evening. I hope you all are having a wonderful Memorial Day weekend.

Today has been a lot like yesterday. I lounged around for the most part... watching movies while trying to find things to eat that I can still tolerate. There is little to no change to report on the medical front. If anything, the little sores in my mouth may have developed into slightly larger sores. There is still no pain, just a slight discomfort in the back of the throat. It feels like I have permanent, incurable dry mouth, which is irritating. All-in-all, I'm still standing strong.

I learned today that one of my best friends competed in and completed his first full marathon. His name is Randy... the same Randy that joined me on my trip to San Diego and sat by my side while I received my first round of chemo. I want to discuss some of my thoughts from today that were a result of Randy's outstanding accomplishment.

I would like to think most people are a lot like me. I have dreams and aspirations. There are things I want to do, places I want to see, and people I want to connect with. I would love it if I could have all my wishes come true, but reality is, like most people, I will most likely procrastinate until the possibility is no longer there. Now hear me out... this is not meant to be sad or depressing. I don't know if running a marathon was one of Randy's "to-do" wish-list items, but it made me think about some of mine:

I have wanted to hike the entire Pacific Coast Trail, from the boarder of Mexico to the boarder of Canada. Assuming this whole cancer thing works out and I am not left with any physical limitations... I would like to think this dream is still very much a possibility. But what if... What if the cancer leaves me crippled in one way or another? What if I am faced with the sad truth that this one dream will go unfulfilled? It's not the end of the world... I know this. But is it possible we play our lives too safe? Are we holding ourselves back from allowing our dreams to become realities?

The PCT may be a bad example because there is no way I would be able to take four to five months off from the military. But, lets pretend one of my dreams was to complete a marathon. Randy is in the Air Force. What would keep me from achieving this dream over the last seventeen years? Nothing... really. I guess what I'm trying to get at is... I need to avoid getting stuck in a rut and start looking for opportunities to accomplish some of my personal desires. I don't mean that I should ignore life's obligations... I just need to be more careful not to use my obligations as an excuse not to do the things I desire most. If I want to run a marathon... I need to look for opportunities where I can work it into my life. I need a little more "carpe diem" in my life. Why? Because you never know what surprises life will throw at you tomorrow.

Congratulations Randy on completing your first marathon. That is a huge accomplishment! You've inspired me to reach for the stars.

The Final Stand - Day 13

Hi. I hope you all are having a wonderful Memorial Day weekend with friends and family. Please take a moment to acknowledge who and what we are celebrating over this extended weekend. And most importantly, please be safe and responsible!

For me... I'm kicking this extended weekend off by being exceptionally lazy. I did very little today. I woke-up at 4:30 and took the dogs downstairs so Jess could sleep-in. My throat was scratchy and a little bit sore. Today was the first time I had coughed up some lightly gnarly mucus. I've been told this will get way worse as the radiation treatments accumulate. I can also feel a couple more sores starting to pop-up in my mouth. The small area in my soft pallet I felt yesterday had turned into a small blister over night. Luckily, this is all painless for now.

I watched about six episodes of M.A.S.H. before anyone else had awaken. The dogs stayed with me for a good bit of time,before they could no longer stand not having their mamma up. For breakfast, I had a small bowl of plain cream of wheat and a protein shake. I had added a banana to the shake like I always do, but this time the banana did not taste good. I think I will omit the banana tomorrow and stick to just peanut butter and chocolate.

By 9:00, I was tired again... ready for my morning nap. I headed up stairs to catch a couple minutes of shut-eye, not knowing it would be nearly noon before I got up again. I guess I was more tired than I thought.

The rest of the day was spent either watching T.V. or playing on the computer.

For lunch, I ate a peanut butter sandwich with a glass of milk. I've realized that I can tolerate foods that do no have any sugar or sweetness to them. I even ate half a bag of popcorn while watching a movie!

For dinner, Jess made spaghetti with meatballs. She had not yet combined the noodles and sauce so I asked her if she had any Alfredo sauce. She didn't... so she ran down to the corner store to get some. She is AMAZING! I knew I wouldn't like the tomato sauce, but had a hunch that the creamy Alfredo sauce would be okay. Boy was I right! I had a nice dinner with the family. No shake, no tube feeding... real food.

After dinner, Jess and I caught-up on some recorded shows. Jess completed my nightly lymphatic message and applied my new emu oil.

I'm not sure what is on the agenda for tomorrow. We had talked about going out and doing something, but I get tired quickly and don't want to be a killjoy. To be honest, I'm happy not having to drive all over Tucson from one medical appointment to another.

The Final Stand - Day 12

Greetings again. Well, we made it through our second week. As of today, I have received two of six chemotherapy infusions and nine of thirty radiation treatments.

At a third of the way towards the line of victory, I sit here not quite certain of my own emotions. I am encouraged that I made it through two weeks without feeling miserable. The fact I have dodged some of the common side-effects gives me hope that I'll make it through this entire ordeal with minimal torment. The treatments have been easy, and the people I have met so far have made up for the constant traveling to and from medical appointments. I am also feeling nervous, scared, and anxious knowing that the last two weeks have been nothing compared to those ahead of me. Lastly, I am feeling depressed. The loss of taste sensation has hit me hard... as I expected it would. I didn't know how hard it would be to eat when food tastes so bad. You would think it be easy to plug one's nose and ignore the bad taste for the sake of nutrition. This is not the case. Just knowing that food will not taste good has had a profound psychological effect, crushing my appetite completely. I am forcing myself to eat simply because I know it is necessary for my health. I think I would be happier not eating so I can remember foods as they should be... when I found them delightful.

I woke-up this morning with an irritation in my throat. It has been persistent all day, and nothing seems to provide relief. I made the salt and baking soda solution that has come highly recommended by many. It helps with the dry mouth, but not so much for throat irritation. I can also feel a couple small raw patches of skin developing in my soft pallet. I imagine these will develop into sores over the next couple days. There doesn't appear to be much of a difference in my skin today. It is obvious the radiation is more focused toward the left side of my neck than the right... which is expected based on the treatment plan. The skin on the left side of my neck is slightly more red than the right side. Also, the fluid build-up (lymphedema) is more pronounced on the left side.

Speaking of lymphedema...  It looks and feels as though the lymphedema treatments are working. Jess helps message my neck every night before bed. I think her efforts are largely responsible for my neck feeling better. We will continue to work the skin for as long as we can.

There really isn't too much more to report today. This was day one for the kids' summer vacation, so my morning was not as quiet and relaxing as it usually is.

I convinced Jacee to join Jess and I for today's radiation treatment. She was allowed back to the treatment room to watch as the nurses secured me into my mask. I couldn't see her expression, but the nurse said she looked quite taken-back by the whole thing.

Treatment went well today. I had to say good-bye to Sam and his family, as well as Doug. Today was the last treatment for both gentlemen. I am extremely happy for the both of them, and I hope they both have clear PET scans in a couple weeks. It was bitter-sweet. The clinic gave each of them a certificate and a long stem carnation. Now that I think of it... the clinic also gave each of them a fighting chance, a cure of sorts, and a new hope at life without cancer. I look forward to my day...

The Final Stand - Day 11

Hello! Welcome back to my journey where everyday is a new day.

I woke up today with my mouth feeling extremely dry and harsh. The headache was back as well, so needless to say, my morning didn't start out as I would have liked. I crawled out of bed before Jess and the kids left, but I didn't make it much further than the couch.

I got hungry around 8:00, so I made myself a shake using a chocolate ensure, peanut butter powder, and a banana. It didn't taste great, but it didn't taste bad - I'll chalk it up as a win. After my shake, I took a nap.

My alarm went off at 10:00, which meant it was time to get ready for my day. I felt better now than I did earlier in the morning, but still not 100%. The dryness of my throat is persistent, and drives me to drink water constantly. Looking in the mirror, I can definitely see that my neck is taking on a rose color... which means the burn is coming. The skin is still painless and soft to the touch... I really hope it stays this way for the three day weekend.

Jess showed-up right on schedule. We made lunches to go since we knew we wouldn't be wasting any money eating out anymore. I made a peanut butter and honey sandwich and a my normal mid-day fruit smoothie. The sandwich was cool, but the fruit smoothie had to be coerced into my belly.

We made it to my radiation oncology appointment to a full waiting room. They must have had some sort of internal function going on because the entire staff seemed to be per-occupied with something other than their job. Today is Thursday, so I got to meet with my oncologist after getting zapped. He was very brief today. He asked me a couple questions, felt my neck, looked in my neck, and said goodbye. It was very awkward.

I was able to secure a prescription for a medication I was running low on, so Jess ran me to the Walgreens down the street. We had about an hour to kill before we needed to be at St. Mary's Hospital for my lymphedema appointment. The gal at the counter told me it would take 30-40 minutes, so Jess and I slowly perused each aisle. We gathered a couple items we knew we needed for the house... and a couple we didn't. I bought a bad of Spicy Nacho Doritos, hoping they would have some taste I could appreciate.

After collecting my prescription and paying for our assortment of goods, Jess and I headed towards my next appointment. On the way to St. Mary's, I decided to try the Doritos. They tasted like a bland corn tortilla chip. There was not one hint of seasoning or spice. If I can't find flavor from a Doritos chip... there is not hope left.

We made it St. Mary's ten minutes before my scheduled appointment. We waiting about twenty minutes, which means I was waiting longer than I should have for the second time today.

The lymphedema therapist took Jess and I back to a room that had a massage bed and a couple chairs. We spent the first ten minutes discussing what we had done since our last visit to help break down the scar tissue on my neck. She then discussed how we were going to re-route the fluid in my neck by using alternative lymphatic pathways. Some of the massages will require the assistance of another person, so Jess was involved in the learning process quite a bit. The therapist spent about 30 minutes massaging my skin, showing Jess and I how we should move the fluid away from my face and toward the heart. To be honest... there really isn't much to it. The concept is simple, and the massage touches are so light, you almost don't have to touch the skin at all. I can definitely feel the difference after having the lymphatic massage, but I am a little taken back that there isn't more to it.

 

I was glad to be heading home. I felt drained by the time we left St. Mary's. On our way home, I received a text message from my Aunt Penny, who I haven't seen for a very long time. She and her fiance Ed are in Tucson as part of their vacation. She wanted to stop by the house, and I was more than happy to have her over. We sat in the living room for a little over an hour catching-up. I was pleased she stopped by. After four days of hoping between nurses and doctors, it was nice to just shoot the breeze about topics other than cancer.

The Final Stand - Day 10

Hello friends and family. Today has been met with disappointment, but I know much of what I am down about is only temporary.

I woke-up this morning feeling great. No headache, no pain, and no taste. NO TASTE? Awe shoot! Well, to be honest, I have some taste sensation, but everything tastes odd and nothing like it should. I had buttered grits for breakfast, a chocolate and peanut butter protein shake for snack, and a ribeye sandwich for lunch. As the day went on, everything I ate taste less and less like it should. At the sandwich shop, I was forced to dissect my sandwich in an effort to find-out what tasted fowl. I'm pretty confident the meat is what threw my taste buds into a tizzy. In hopes of making the sandwich more palatable I began searching the restaurant for something that would boost the flavor. First I tried Tabasco sauce. That helped a little bit, but it wasn't enough. Ketchup tastes like rotten fruit now, so that was out. The cashier had offered us ranch dressing for our fries... maybe that would work. The ranch dressing worked. It provided just enough flavor to kill the nasty I was tasting.

As the day went on, I began sampling every food I crossed. Jess had cleaned some fruit for a fruit tray she was preparing for Jacee's class tomorrow. Strawberries... YUK! Grapes... sour water. As Jess prepared dinner I sampled each item. BBQ chicken... NOPE! Macaroni and cheese... DOUBLE NOPE!

Ok. Thank you for allowing me to get that our of my system. I know this is not the end of the world. We all knew it was coming. I just didn't think it would happen this soon.

On a good note... Like I said, I woke-up feeling great. I was able to get up before Jess; affording her a couple extra minutes of shut-eye. She went off to work and returned as normal to get me to my radiation treatment. The treatment went well, plus Jess and I got to visit with both Sam's family and Doug... this made me happy.

Right now I'm feeling okay. Other than the loss of taste, I am starting to feel a slight burn on my neck, but nothing that will keep me up at night. The skin is turning pink and feels a little tight today... nothing a little massage can't undo. My throat is getting dry very quickly, so my water intake has increased drastically. I got a little tired after running errands with Jess, but after an hour nap, I was feeling good again.

I'm hoping the side-effects hold off for a couple more days. I would like to enjoy the Memorial Day weekend without dealing with pain and agony. I was expecting most side-effects to hold off until week three, but it looks like I am getting them a little early. I am fortunate I am only dealing with the loss of taste and not a bunch of pain. I am really bummed about not having more time with my taste-buds, but I know it is only temporary. From this point on... I eat for sustainment and not pleasure. This will be a huge change for me.

The Final Stand - Day 9

Hello world. Welcome back to my blog, where I am sharing with you my journey with cancer. At this point, it feels like our journey rather than my journey. I am in somewhat a state of shock knowing how many people are logging into this blog everyday. When I started this, I was certain there would be a handful of loyal followers, but never in my wildest dreams did I think I would have between one hundred and two hundred visits a day. Thank you. Knowing I have an army of support behind me helps to keep me focused on being positive.

Well, allow me to report my day.

The anti-nausea meds I receive prior to my chemo treatment are full of steroids. These steroids tend to cause temporary insomnia, which prevented me from going to bed at my normal time. Luckily, if you recall from my last post, I had woke up at 2:30 in the morning and was too busy during the day to nap. SO... I was able to eventually crash from exhaustion, I just didn't receive as much sleep as I usually get.

Jess woke-up at 5:30. I woke-up as well, but not because I wanted to. I had a headache that was preventing me from going back to bed. Jess was kind enough to bring me fresh water and pain meds, but still I laid there unable to return to my slumber. I wasn't nauseous, so that was good. I got on my cellphone and started messing about on Facebook. Before I knew it, it was approaching 9 o'clock. I had to leave for my radiation appointment at 11:00, so I forced myself out of bed so I could grab myself a bite to eat.

Jess returned home to retrieve me and escort me to my radiation appointment. Luck was on our side today! We got to park in the lower lot, avoiding the dreaded parking structure.

When we walked into the radiation oncology clinic, we saw the faces of our new friends. We were early today, so we had more time to chat and get to know our new radiation friends. Come to find out, they live in Tombstone, which is an hour and a half away. They make the commute into Tucson five days a week for Sam's treatments (he's the one with colon cancer). I was both happy and sad to hear that Sam's last treatment would be this week. I guess Sam moving on means another warrior stepping into his place. I just hope the newbie and their family are as inviting as Sam and his.

I saw Doug from across the room, but I was unable to speak with him today. I was a bit upset by this, but hold on hopes of possible seeing him tomorrow. Jess said he was taken into the back to receive IV pain control treatments. I guess his pain was significant today that he would not be able to bear the mask without having some extra pain management. I fear this will be me someday soon.

After my appointment, I agreed to travel to base so Jess could go workout at the gym. I had her drop me off at the Fire Department so I could catch-up with the guys and check my e-mails. It was nice to be back at work, even if I spend most my time there sounding like a broken record. I think next time I'll page all personnel into the training room so I can have a single questions and answer session.

After our base visit, Jess and I headed home so we could meet-up with the kiddos as they returned from school. We relaxed for the remainder of the evening until it was time to decide on dinner. I told Jess I would like to get pizza one last time before it's too late. I had some serious indication earlier in the day that my taste was diminishing quicker than expected. I ordered and picked-up pizza from the Italian restaurant down the street. Would you believe... the Pizza was HORRIBLE! Everyone else thought it tasted just as good as it usually does, but to me, it was not good. In fact, I picked through each ingredient in both the pizza and my antipasti salad and found that there are many things I am now having a hard time tasting. For example... the banana pepper taste like dirty water with a kick of spice at the end. The only things that taste the way they should were both the black and green olives. The tomato sauce on the pizza was repulsive. The good news was that although not as appetizing as I would have liked, it was all still eatable. I have one last pint of my favorite ice cream: Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia. I'm really hoping for one last enjoyment with one of my favorite comfort foods.

So, aside from the headache and loss of taste, I can also tell my mouth gets dry even more so than it has been in the recent past. Connor also commented on my neck being red... which I noticed as well, but his confirmation sealed the deal. The burns are here. Not painful yet, but the hurt is soon to come. I really hope to hear some good news on Thursday regarding the Liquid Hope because I don't know if I can stomach eating nasty tasting food. I guess I can always blend everything and shot it into the PEG.  

The Final Stand - Day 8

Salutations! Today is a great day to be alive. As far as evaluating one's worth of a day while having cancer goes... today was pretty darn good.

I couldn't sleep well last night. In fact, I woke-up at 2:30 and couldn't go back to bed. I don't know if it was the anticipation of round two, the dog following me to the bathroom, or what, but I was restless as all get out. I felt fine... in fact, I felt great. No headache, no uneasiness, no PEG tube pains... nothing.

Jess woke-up at her normal time (5:00) and soon began her daily routine of getting kids up and ready for school. She went into work for a few hours, but returned home just in time to shuttle me and the kids to all our appointments. Jess has always been the glue that holds this household together, but I'm telling you... she is the REAL superstar behind this current cancer debacle. If you have Jess as a friend on Facebook, please do me a favor. The next time you think about me... check-in on my wife. She is bearing the brunt of this nightmare. And if you would like to loan me some money to take her on a cruise when this is all said and done with... that would be great. Just kidding!

So, off we went... Round 2. We got to the Radiation Oncology clinic with plenty of time to waste driving around that nightmare of a parking garage. As we made our way into the clinic, I observed my nurse come into the waiting room to grab the guy that is always ahead of me. This meant I had at least 15-20 minutes before I would be called. I thought the RAD machine I used was always set-up for head and neck cancers, so naturally I asked the man's wife about his prognosis (I've learned that in the cancer community, you can totally be nosy without it coming across as such). Turns out... he is battling colon cancer. He was using the same machine, just for a different area of the body. He had three family and/or friends with him. They were nice people... nice enough I would feel comfortable engaging with them again. The other gentleman within their party was telling me that he too had battled cancer. He had/has melanoma (skin cancer). He was telling Jess and I how they go about removing the cancer cells from the skin. Just as he was wrapping-up his description, his buddy came out and it was my turn to get zapped. I was kinda bummed because I would have loved to tell/show him how they cut my cancer out...

The radiation oncology clinic is unique in that patients almost always maintain the same schedule throughout their treatment. This means, I will always go to the RadOnc at the same time, see the same people, have the same nurses, ... its Groundhog's Day, everyday. I was in observation mode on week one, but after watching how many of the cancer patients interact with one-another, I felt inclined to engage as well. After all, what better way to get tips and trick than from those that have a little bit more experience. Now... save that thought!

My treatment was quick. At this point, I really need no instructions. I know exactly how to position myself where it results in very little work for the nurses. I'm telling you... thank goodness I am a military firefighter. With all the time I have spent in masks (both firefighting and chemical warfare), in dark, enclosed spaces... I'm very comfortable having that plastic mask placed over me. I'm sure this will change as my skin begins to burn, but for now, I will appreciate the small victories.

Now, back to the point about meeting other patients.

On our way out, Jess and I stopped to talk to another cancer patient I had seen on each of my visits last week. His name is Doug, and he is a fellow head and neck cancer warrior. As of today, he has endured 28 radiation treatments. I believe he said he was scheduled for 35, but it may be more. Anyways, Doug was obviously a head and neck warrior based on the SEVERE burns around his neck. Imagine the worst sunburn you have ever seen. Now imagine the dark, almost burnt skin of a Thanksgiving Day turkey. Put those together, lather it up with a TON of Aquaphor soothing gel, and you get Doug. I don;t know about you, but if that was me (which it will be soon) I can't imagine wanting to engage in any social interactions. The pain would be too much to maintain pleasantries with random strangers. Well, Doug is no average man! He was the most pleasant man to speak to. He had many great tips to share with Jess and I, and was more than happy to entertain my curiosities. When Jess and I went on our merry way, I couldn't help but to rave to Jess on how upbeat Doug was considering his current state. Meeting him today gave me hope that it is possible to face this crap with a smile on my face. I hate being miserable, and that is my biggest fear in all this. Perspective is so powerful... isn't it?

After radiation, Jess and I bee-lined it to the cancer center for my second go with chemo. I felt much better going into this week's treatment knowing that the first round wasn't nearly as bad as I had anticipated. If I can get away with the same outcome week and week, I'll be one happy camper (in regard to chemo... not radiation). The first thing they do when I get to the center is take blood. The blood is immediately analyzed and the results set to my medical oncologist before my appointment with her. The results can take a bit, so I usually have about an hour before seeing the doc. In the meantime, a nurse takes my vitals and asks me a million questions about the previous week. My vitals this week were good: BP 129/79, Pulse 71, Temp 97.9, Weight 230, and I'm still 71 inches tall.

The visit with my doctor went amazingly! According to her, I am a cancer superhero! Okay... she didn't say that, but she should have. She was impressed I had not experienced many of the common side-effects of the Cisplatin (chemo). Despite feeling tired... I had managed to get away relatively unscathed. But that is not all! Remember that blood they took? If you think the lack of side-effects were impressive... my blood work was showing that the chemo had almost no effect on my red and white blood cell count. This really is unheard of... according to the doc. Normally, chemo immediately begins doing what chemo is designed to do... kill cells. The reason why most chemo patients get sick easily is because their white blood cells are knocked-out my the chemo. Our white blood cells are responsible for fighting off infections, viruses, etc. From week one to week two, my white blood cell count went unchanged. In other areas... my blood was showing improvements! It may be luck, it could be prayer, heck, it might even be a medical mystery. What ever it is... let's keep it coming!

Okay... lets calm down before I completely jinx myself! Do me a favor and knock on some wood.

I had my next chemo infusion immediately following the visit with my medical oncologist. Today was much like last week, except that it only took one needle stick to get my IV established. MORE GOOD NEWS! I also got to talk to a nutritionist during my infusion. She had been requested by both my oncologists because head and neck patients have an extremely high probability of becoming malnourished during treatment because they refuse to eat. This can cause a problem because without nourishment... the body cannot accommodate for the awful side-effects from the radiation and chemo.

Many patients like myself end up in the hospital, treatment put on hold until they can recover enough to continue. According to the nutritionist, many doctors believe there is a direct correlation between long-term survivability and meeting the intent of the scheduled cancer treatment plan. So... if one completes the cancer treatment as intended... they run a great chance of shaking the cancer for good opposed to someone that had breaks in treatment or parts completely withheld.

I asked the nutritionist about a tube feeding supplement called Liquid Courage. This was recommended to me by a dear friend and old roommate. Unlike most supplements, this stuff is made of whole foods, all organic... the SUPER healthy stuff. Not only had the nutritionist hear of it, her eyes lit-up when I mentioned it. I told her I had been working with my military case manager on trying to get Tricare to cover the cost. It costs $191 for a case of 24 pouches. I need 5 pouches a day to maintain my recommended calorie count. This is way too expensive for Jess and I, so my only hope is that Tricare will step in. In order to convince them, I need a Letter of Medical Necessity signed by one of my doctors. Anyways... long story short, she is going to help me secure that letter. We don't know if it will work, but we're going to try. GET THIS... medical insurance companies do not recognize tube feeding supplements as a medical necessity because they feel it falls under "food". Food is an individual expense... Well blend me up a Quarter Pounder with Cheese and get pumping!

Sorry for the long post. It was a very busy day, but one filled with smiles, encouragement, and hope!

The Final Stand - Day 7

Well, it has been a whole week since I started what we hope is my last stand against cancer. I had my first chemotherapy session on Monday and the first four radiation treatments Tuesday through Friday. This first week has given me a slight taste of what is to come, and let me tell you... it is not going to be pleasant. I've felt slightly ill from the chemo, but luckily no nausea. For the most part, the chemo has made me very sleepy. I sleep in way later than normal, nap often, and go to bed much earlier than I normally would. The radiation has increased the fluid build-up in my neck, causing it to become even more stiff than usual. The information provided by the lymphedema specialist has helped move some of that liquid away from my neck (with the assistance of my exceptional wife Jess). I can also notice a slight reddish tint around my neck indicating the radiation is starting to burn me slowly.

My spirits are high for the moment, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't worried about the weeks to come. I know this battle in far from over. I will continue to lean hard on all of you... my supporters. This blog continues to provide me peace; an opportunity to internalize the madness this cancer has brought into my life. I am happy to have others that are willing to share in this experience. Just a little bit of gee-whiz info... as of today, this blog has had over 7,000 views. I'm truly am in shock!

Thank you!

Now, buckle-in for another exciting week! This one will include one chemo session, five radiation treatments, and a lymphedema message!

The Final Stand - Day 6

Hello everyone. Today has been a welcomed day of relaxation - no doctors, no treatments, and no long car trips across Tucson.

I woke-up this morning feeling slightly ill, but nothing like I had been feeling on previous days this week. Ill to me means tired and sluggish... I have yet to experience any nausea! I woke-up around seven, but didn't head downstairs until eight. My stomach drove me out of bed, which prompted me to immediately grab a bowl of cereal. My options were plentiful, but since I've been having some digestive issues, I decided on Frosted Mini Wheats (for the extra fiber). I sat down on the couch with my bowl of cereal. Jess was in the chair next to me and the kids were watching T.V. upstairs in the loft. As I ate my cereal, I realized something was missing. I could taste the Mini Wheats, but I was having a hard time tasting the Frosted part. I did everything I could to focus my attention to that delicious, white frosted side, but nothing was registering. I looked over to Jess and told her I believe my ability to taste sweet was starting to go... bummer!

Jess eventually got up and started her day. Jacee had come downstairs and watched some M.A.S.H. with me. While sitting there, she recommended I make a smoothie for the both of us. I agreed!

I made a delicious fruit smoothie from frozen strawberries, mangoes, pineapple, peaches, and orange juice. I have made this same smoothie multiple times, so I know exactly how it should taste. I gave Jacee her share and took mine to the couch to enjoy. As soon as I took my first sip I could tell there was something odd about the smoothie. It still tasted okay, but it wasn't as sweet as it usually is. I could still taste some of the sweet tanginess, but it wasn't the same as it usually is.

I was feeling pretty good by late afternoon. No headache, no ill feelings, and I was experiencing a bump in energy. I'm hoping this feeling extends into tomorrow. I know this reprieve is only temporary, but I'll take it!

The Final Stand - Day 5

Greetings all!

Today has been decent. I woke-up feeling okay...a little worse for wear, but not completely out of commission. Due to my new appointment today with the lymphedema therapist, Jess took some time off work to escort me to my appointments.

My first appointment was at the radiation oncology clinic. I received my fourth radiation treatment today. So far, the only side effect I am experiencing is tightness around my neck. I had been given some post radiation cream for my skin, but assumed it was for once the skin was burned. I was informed today that I should begin using it immediately to help reduce the effects radiation has on the skin. So... tonight I will experiment with this new topical. I'm not once for lotions and such, so I'm not exactly thrilled.

The appointment with the lymphedema specialist went well. Today was more a consultation than anything else, but she agreed that I was a good candidate for her services. We discussed what lymphedema is and how it affects me specifically. She was very interested in my current aches, pains, and constraints regarding my neck. I was shown some self-massage techniques for reducing scar tissue and urged to do so twice a day around my neck. I have two appointments scheduled with her next week, where she will message my skin in an attempt to move along all the built-up fluids in my face and neck. At one point, the lymphedema specialist had me standing up toward a mirror so she could show me how to properly message my scars. After a couple minutes, I became flush and light headed. I told her immediately, which she then urged me to sit down and drink some water. I'm not sure why this happened...

The only medical concern I have to report, other than feeling worn out, is some pain coming from my feeding tube. I noticed a bit of gunk built-up around the tube this morning and now the skin around the tube is pink and irritated. I'm pretty sure it is on the verge of becoming infected, which will most likely buy me a ticket to the E.R. tomorrow. I'll keep you posted...

Still no nausea and my taste buds are still active. I asked Jess to stop at a McDonald's today. I don't normally eat at McDonald's, but some hot fries and a Quarter Pounder sounded good. I'm very glad we did, because it was the best McDonald's I have ever had!

The Final Stand - Day 4

Welcome back.

Today has been hit and miss. I woke-up this morning not feeling the greatest. Although I have been very fortunate not to feel any shred of nausea, I am experiencing symptoms similar to that of the flu. My neck feels very tight, which is a surprise to everyone at the radiation oncology clinic because they feel that this side-effect shouldn't occur until the two to three week point. I'm hoping this isn't a sign that I will experience all the side-effects prematurely! My tongue feels more numb today than it has since my surgery. I don't know if that means my tongue is gaining feeling it had lost, or if it the radiation is somehow affecting it. My appetite comes and goes, which kinda sucks because I was looking forward to eating a couple of my favorites before losing taste all together.

All-in-all, I feel tired with a sprinkle of the flu. No pain yet, and no nausea. The constipation I was concerned about yesterday has been eased for the time being.

Tomorrow will be my last radiation treatment for the week. I look forward to a couple of days of no traveling. I also have my first appointment with a lymphedema specialist tomorrow. I hope she is able to restore some of the mobility in my neck.

I know this was short, but this is what I had in mind for the next six weeks... unless there is something significant to report.

Let's keep fighting,
Chris

The Final Stand - Day 3

Greeting from the battlefront.

Today has provided me the first taste of what is to come on this final stand against cancer. I woke-up this morning feeling somewhat tired and stiff. My neck feels as though it had tightened up quite a bit overnight. Looking in the mirror, I could see that the skin around my neck looks more stretched than usual.

Jess went to work today, so I was on my own to get to the hospital for my second radiation treatment. I felt well enough in the morning that I didn't foresee this being a problem. Jess and the kids all headed out of the house just as I was taking up refuge on the couch. I got two episodes into M.A.S.H. before I found myself back to sleep... dogs snuggled-up by my side. Luckily I woke up a few minutes past ten; probably because my mouth felt dryer than the Sahara Desert. I had plenty of time to shower and dress before I had to leave the house for my medical appointment.

The drive to my appointment was uneventful. I could really tell the difference in the stiffness of my neck as I drove today compared to yesterday. When I got to the hospital, the lower lot was full, so I was forced into the parking garage. I made it to the Radiation Oncology clinic a half hour before my scheduled appointment (I'd much rather be early than late). I was in luck! The gal that runs the radiation machine for head and neck cancers was able to squeeze me in early.

I was escorted back to treatment room where I immediately began getting ready to get zapped. This requires me to remove my glasses, ball cap, and shirt. I laid down on the table and got locked-in. The mask felt a little tighter today than it had yesterday, but not so much so that it was unbearable. Once in the machine, I could immediately hear the broke-down go-cart begin making its laps around my head. After a few minutes, I was released from my torture and sent on my way.

Leaving the hospital, I felt pretty good. I decided to stop at a sushi restaurant I had been wanting to try for some lunch. I got a couple sushi rolls and was pleased that my taste hadn't changed yet. I did notice that the soy sauce was extra salty, but that could have been the sauce and not my taste buds.

After lunch I headed home. With a full belly, I was feeling a bit tired and run down. I text Jess to let her know I was going to take a nap and that I may not or may not pick Jacee up from school depending on how long I crashed for.  

I woke-up at 5 p.m. feeling like I was on the verge of getting the flu. I was also battling stomach cramps from being constipated so I knew my evening was not going to be pleasant.

So, I watched a little bit of T.V. while making routine trips to the restroom every ten minutes to battle the constipation. I found some relief, but not enough to consider being in the clear. I will definitely be upping my medication and fiber intake tonight.

Long story short... I am tired and constipated. My neck is getting stiff and the mild headaches still come and go. Taste is still okay, but my appetite is not what it usually is (I skipped dinner all together.) I imagine tomorrow will be much like today... just feeling rundown.

The Final Stand - Day 2

Well friends, this cancer fighting business is going to suck! But, before I get to that, allow me to recount the day's activities.

Last night was not fun. The nurses at the cancer clinic told me the Cisplatin (my chemotherapy drug) is full of steroids that would more than likely keep me up for that first night. Well, she must know a thing or two because I did not sleep well last night at all. I watched a few episodes of M.A.S.H. on the couch before crashing hard after the long busy day. I woke-up at 2:30 in the morning not knowing what was going on. After a couple minutes of regaining myself,  I walked up-stairs and slid into bed next to Jessica. Once in bed, I could not go back to sleep. I felt myself becoming more and more conscious of my surrounds, which is opposite of what I was going for. I hoped out of bed and took some meds, but that didn't help. I laid there for the better part of two hours before finally slipping off again.

I woke-up a 7:00 and laid in bed for a good thirty minutes before getting-up to shower. I had my first radiation treatment this morning, so I knew I could lounge around forever. If we were going to make in time, Jess and I would need to leave the house around 8:00. Jess was already getting ready when I joined the fun. Lucky for me, I get to rock the look of a cancer patient, so doing many of the things I would normally do to look my best are not necessary. I had to do some quick cleaning and maintenance on my PEG tube, jump in the shower, and toss on some clothes and a hat before I was ready to charge toward the hospital.

Jess and I left a couple minutes past 8:00. The drive would normally take us 35-40 minutes, but today was slightly different. We must have been riding the same wave as lady luck because we got to the main hospital in record time. Not only that... we also found a nice, wide parking spot for the truck in the small parking lot... NOT in the parking garage. The parking spot I found was right next to the cross-walk, things couldn't pan out any better. I looked over to Jess and mentioned that our luck might extend to me being seen earlier than my scheduled time. 

Jess and I walked down to the Radiation Oncology clinic and found ourselves a nice spot to settle into within the waiting room. I had been drinking a lot of water since waking-up, so I was making routine trips to the bathroom. We watched as numerous patients checked-in, sat down, and got called back for their scheduled appointments, obviously lady luck had left our side. Before we knew it, it was 9:50... thirty minutes past my scheduled appointment.

I was called back right around 10:00. Since I am being treated in a room full of nasty radiation, Jess did not accompany. A technician escorted me down a short hallway. On our way, we stopped at a heating locker full of blankets. She asked if I would like one since it tends to get cold inside the treatment room. I accepted her offer, and off we went. The room we entered was different than the one I had been in when fitted for my mask. It was slightly smaller, but still had one of those huge CT scanner looking machines.  This machine is called the Tomo Therapy Advanced Radiotherapy. It enables the use of radioactive therapy while using the computed tomography (CT) scanning technology. Basically... it enables the doctor to shoot the radioactive lasers to a spot within a millimeter of accuracy... assuming the patient lays still. 

 On the bed, you can see a dark blue preform. This was the mold we took of the back of my head. The dark blue piece of plastic is where I had to rest my head. The lighter blue plastic piece above (that looks like a creepy person) will go over me and secure me to the bed.

Before getting into position, the nurse explained to me what was about to happen. She told me that I would first remove my hat, glasses, and shirt before laying down on the bed. She and the other female technician would then secure me in place using top portion of the mold I created during my last visit. Once I was secured in place, the techs would align my body so that the lasers hit the marks on the top of my mask. The techs would then leave the room to execute my treatment from a control room off to the side. First, I would be slide into the scanner to undergo a normal CT scan. This first scan was used to ensure I was positioned correctly. Once the doctor okays my positioning, I would re-enter the scanner to undergo the actual radiation treatment. Once the treatment is over, I would be slid back out and released of my mask.

At this point, I was needing to pee again. I asked to use the restroom before we started, but that would require me to walk all the way back to the waiting-room and I didn't want to hold these nice ladies up. I was assured the whole process would last no longer than twenty minutes. Confident I could hold off that long, I climbed up onto the bed to be strapped in.

The mask was locked down. If there was a fire in the building and no one available to release me, I would be a goner for sure. There is no escaping this device once locked in. The bite stick prevents me from moving my tongue, which is good, but it also prevents me from breathing out of my mouth. I've always had some sinus issues, so breathing from my nose for a long period of time become uncomfortable... especially while laying on my back.
The treatment it self takes about five minutes. During that time, a contraption from within the scanner sweeps around your head numerous times. If fires off like a sick shotgun. Have you ever been to a go-cart place and watched as the slowest go-cart get passed by everyone? It is the one that has a very unique sound... as if the motor needs a good rebuild. Well, that is how this machine sounds as it fires these radiation beams into my head.

After the treatment was done, I was released back to the waiting room where Jess was waiting patiently. I ran straight to the restroom afraid I wouldn't make it.

Once relieved, I helped Jess gather our things and off we went. First radiation treatment in the books.

Jess and I stopped at Costco on our way home. We walked through the entire store only to buy a few items, which I am totally okay with. I love walking through that store. It has so many cool items and killer deals. Jess and I have been talking about investing in a second refrigerator and freezer for the garage so we can take more advantage of these nice prices, maximizing the money it cost us for our membership.

By the time we got home, I was overwhelmed by the need for sleep. I did some dishes before escaping to my bed. I went to sleep around 1:30 in the afternoon and did wake-up until 4:30.

So, today hasn't been too bad. Last night's restlessness was due to the chemo treatment the day before. Aside from that, I have been experiencing a mild headache all day. It is not bad enough to whinge about, but noticeable none the less. My mouth was extremely dry when I woke from my nap this afternoon. More so than normal. I've been going to the bathroom non-stop, which is good because that means I am staying hydrated. The nurse at the cancer clinic had warned me that Cisplatin can damage the bladder if it is not flushed regularly. Considering the number of restroom visits today, I'm confident I am holding up my end of the bargain. I'm not feeling bad, but I'm not feeling 100%. I can tell the chemo is taking its toll on my body. I imagine by tomorrow I will begin feeling even more rundown. I had one small episode this morning where I felt nauseous, but that subsided quickly after I took some medications. Aside from that one instance, I've experienced no nausea... thank goodness!
  
Day two in coming to an end. I have radiation treatments Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, so I imagine I will begin feeling some of the mild side-eefects by the week's end. As promised, I will keep you all informed of how this battle pans out.

Thank you again for sharing in a piece of my life.

Chris

The Final Stand - A Daily Recount (D-day)

Hello everyone. I am absolutely amazed at the number of people that follow this blog regularly. I am even more surprised to see how many people are new to this journey and take the time to read all the blog entries, from beginning to present. Many of you have sent private words of encouragement. Some have even went as far as to thank me for being courageous and inspirational. But, allow me to set the facts straight... it is you, the reader, who has inspired me to continue with this blog. I couldn't imagine fighting cancer alone, and having all of you standing at my side has been the greatest medicine I could hope for. You have inspired me to continue fighting with my head held high. So... thank you!

Today was day one of what we all hope is my final stand against cancer. I very badly want to capture a daily recount of what is going on day by day as I inch my way towards victory. This recount will take us through the entire chemo and radiation therapy experience. It will include the six weeks of treatment plus two weeks of after affects, and will include things like: my current weight, how I'm feeling physically, how I'm doing mentally, what I'm eating, and other tidbits of information. I'm going to provide one of my typical stories for days one and two because they will be my first chemo and radiation sessions. After that, I will simply post an update letting you know how I'm doing. Eight weeks from now, we should have a sixty day battle journal.

 Now that we've addressed the formalities... allow me to recount what happened on day one (D-day).

I had my first chemotherapy treatment today. Jess had to go to work for a few hours, but made it home to join me for lunch before we headed to the cancer clinic. We stopped at a Southern gastronomy pub called The Parish. It is located in Northwest Tucson and is well worth the trip if you're looking for a brilliant play on Louisiana style Southern cooking. For an appetizer, Jess and I shared a plate of hush-puppies infused with crawfish flavoring. For our mains, Jess had the shrimp po'boy and I had the fish and chips. Both dishes we extremely satisfying at a decent price.They also had a killer looking bar which serves a micro-brew Jess and I used to frequent when we lived in Mississippi. I hope that someday I might be able to enjoy another round of those hush-puppies... only alongside an ice cold brew. Only time will tell.

After lunch, Jess and I had just enough time to get to the cancer center for my scheduled appointments. I had three appointments back-to-back: first at the lab for some blood draws, then a face-to-face with my medical oncologist, and finally upstairs for my first cancer treatment. We got there right on time. I waited in line to sign-in while Jess ran over to the in-clinic Walgreens pharmacy. I asked Jess to pick-up a mouthwash they sell there that helps prevent dry mouth. I had been wanting to get some to carry with me on doctor visits, and today was the ideal day to purchase it considering I had just eaten fish. I would like to think my health care providers appreciate me not breathing hot fish all over them.

It wasn't long before I was called back to have blood drawn. I attempted to greet each medical technician as I walked back towards the blood letting stations. I greeted three technicians, and received the same ran-down, lack of enthusiasm response from each. I don't usually get this type of response from people here at the cancer clinic, so I am going to label this as a case of the Mondays.  I am sure my next experience will be more on par with those of my past visits.

The blood draw went well. The technician that stuck me was able to do so in one quick stick. The vials were rushed back to be tested and I was excused back to the waiting room.

Jess and I moved to another area of the hospital. It was one the same floor as the lab, but far enough away that there was a separate waiting room for this particular area. We were early and I knew my blood would need to finish testing, so I assumed we might be waiting for awhile. Much to my surprise, we were called back sooner than I would have expected. The nurse that called me back ran me through the normal drill: weight, vitals, and questionnaire. I weighed in at 232, which is both good and bad. Its bad because it is much higher than it should be, but its good because I am expected to loose a lot of weight throughout this process. My blood pressure was 128/72, heart rate 68, and temperature 98.2. Everything looked good!

After the nurse had completed a full collection of my vitals and medications, she left Jess and me to wait for my medical oncologist. We sat there for quite awhile; I guess us being early caught-up. It felt like a half an hour elapsed before we finally heard a knock at the door. I was a man. A man we had never seen before. He introduced himself and explained that he was one of my doctor's fellows. A fellowship is a form of training used in the medical field when doctors are trying to obtain a license or certification in a specialty medicine. In his case, I am assuming he is studying to be a medical oncologist. The fellow asked me many of the same questions I would expect from my doctor. I don't know why, but it always feels awkward talking to a medical student in your doctor absence. Part of me knows they are only doing so as practice. There is little effort made to establish rapport, which is why I feel those visit are always less informative and productive than those with the primary physician.

The fellow didn't have a whole lot to offer, other than a recap of information Jess and me already knew. He left once he had met his requirements. Jess and I were left to wait again... this time for my medical oncologist.

The oncologist must have been busy because she took much longer than I would have hoped. When she did finally enter the room, she reinforced the plan of action with me. She explained what I could expect from chemo and gave me very strict guidelines for contacting the clinic if I experience anything outside of what is to be expected. I was also told to report any fevers because they could be an indication of infection. You see... now that I'm taking chemo, my immune system will become extremely compromised. The chemo is going to attach and kill many cells within my body... especially my white blood cells, whose primary purpose is to fight off infections. After a brief rundown of rules, roles, and expectations, I was released so I could make it upstairs for my last appointment of the day... "the chemo treatment."

All-in-all, my first chemo treatment went down well. I checked in a separate registration desk the clinic has setup for cancer patients receiving treatment. Once checked-in, I was directed to wait in the waiting room until called by one of the nurses. Jess and I sat there for a couple minutes playing on our cell phones. I decided I wanted a tour of the place so I took a walk to the long corridor. I could hear Jessica's name behind me before I could get to the end. She was talking to the nurse that was looking to bring me back.

Jess and I were escorted into one of the treatment wings. I was put into a private room with its own bathroom. I was pretty excited by this considering last time I was in an open bay where four people could be there receiving their respective treatments the same time. The nurse had me sit down and get comfortable. I covered up with the new blanket I brought along with me. I also surrounded myself with any electronics I might need to keep me busy.

The nurse was a great lady. She was very funny... the type of funny that comes with a heavy does of sarcasm and matter of fact. The three of us in the room established rapport as the nurse began prepping her tools for running an IV line. She asked if I had a port. I'm assuming she asked that because it looked as though most of the patients receiving treatment had one. I explained to her that my medical oncologist decided against one because I was young and was only receiving six treatments. If only the oncologist listened to me...

The nurse covered my arm in hot packs before wrapping it in a warm blanket. She was hoping to get my veins to surface. You see... I have big veins, but they like to live deep in my arms. I've had nurses in the past have difficulties getting an IV started... so I have no doubt these nurses will have a heck of a time with me... especially after a couple weeks of chemo and radiation.

The next twenty minutes were spent trying to hit oil. The nurse tried twice before asking for some assistance from another nurse. The two of them eventually found a vein that would play nice.

I was all setup for chemo. My IVs were ran and the medicine was ready and available. We were told the entire treatment should last approximately two hours. Before starting the drip, the nurse gave me a list of possible side-effects I should be aware of. The most obvious is nausea... which can happen in a moments notice and over a period of a week, which is why they are first pumping me full of some pretty heavy duty, long-lasting anti-nausea medicines. Some of the other side-effects I could experience... fever, chills, headache, a sudden breakout of rash, pain at the injection site, a lose of hearing, thinning of my hair, and a dramatic drop in energy levels.

So, the IVs were opened and the medications were quickly pushed into my system. There were moments when my skin felt warm around the injection site. I also felt the slightest hint of a headache, but nothing debilitating or worth getting worked up over.

Do be honest... this first treatment was a breeze. I know they will not all be like this, but I am grateful the first was. It took the whole two hours to get all the fluids and medicines in me. The time went by fast, and I really have nothing negative to report. The nurses were great and other than the IV starting issue... the entire ordeal went smooth.

At home... I was able to eat dinner and ever had myself some dessert. I didn't expect day one to be rough. In fact, I don't expect things will get rough until week three... maybe four. Regardless. I will continue to blog daily to provide you updates from the front line. You should receive another lengthy blog tomorrow describing my first radiation visit, but after that, the blog entries will be brief.

I wish you all well. Thank you again for your support, especially as we enter into this final campaign against cancer. 

A Picture is Worth... Something?

Hello everyone. I thought I would throw together a gallery of pictures from my journey with oral cancer. Some of the pictures are graphic and may not be the prettiest thing to look at... you've been warned. I had initially decided not to add these photos in my original blog entries because they are graphic and not the most pleasant to look at. The last thing I wanted to do was chase people away. But, many people have asked to see pictures, so I am providing them now in a blog entry of their own.

Enjoy :)

This is the bottom of my tongue immediately following the biopsy. An oral surgeon removed a small strip of tissue to be sent into pathology for diagnosis. Now, when this happened, the tumor was very small in size. It almost looks as though the entire tumor in question had been removed during the biopsy, but you will see in the next picture that there was plenty of cancer cells left behind. The reason the area is black is because the doctor had to cauterize the area to stop it from bleeding. This was extremely painful... as you might remember from the blog post where I had to be given multiple nerve blocks.

This is the tumor after a week or two of healing. As you can see, the tumor got much larger following the biopsy. The reason for this is because cancer cells multiple much quicker when there is a wound involved. In this case, the wound would not fully heal... which is typical of cancer tissue. The hole in the middle of the tumor was where the biopsy had been taken. Compare this photo to the first and you can see that the tumor grew significantly.

This is one of my best friends: Randy. He was with Jess and I during my experimental round of chemo. This was not the full chemo... just a low dose round of chemo that was included as part of the medical study. The hope was that the chemo would shrink the cancer tumors, making it easier for the surgeons to remove. You will see in the next picture that the chemo dose worked a little bit, but nothing to get overly excited about. It is good having friends willing to sit by your side as you get a poison injected into your body. Then again... Randy really had no other options.

This is the tumor two months after the biopsy had been taken. I took this picture just before surgery. My intent was to use this picture in one of my blog entries, but decided against it. This is what my tongue looked like before surgery.

I must have taken this picture the night of my surgery...but I can't say for sure. Its hard to tell if my eyes are open or not, but I can only assume I took this selfie so I could get a better look at the damage that had occurred.

Again, I don't recall taking this picture, but I must have. You might be able to see my tongue is only visible on the right side of my mouth. This is because my tongue had been cut and folded on the left, leaving what looks like a raindrop or a parrot tongue. You can really see the staples that go from one ear to the other, down and around the natural crease in my neck. The tubes sticking out are part of the "vampire jugs". They are there for drainage.

I took this picture to morning after surgery. I felt really good that morning... thanks to the awesome pain medications. The swelling was minimal at this point, but things changed for the worse. I was not nearly at "chipper" the days following this picture. This picture provides a good view of the drainage tubes.

This picture was taken just before being released from the hospital. All the drainage tubes have been removed. You can see some of the staples under my chin, but the swelling and lymphedema is much worst here than in the picture taken the morning after surgery.

I decided to add this picture because I think it is funny. This is the longest I have ever grown my facial hair. It was getting very itchy... to the point I could no longer take it. I was scared to shave with a normal razor, so I was waiting to buy a new electric razor. You can see the swelling on the right has went down significantly, but the left still looks bad.

I took this picture right after shaving for the first time, which I was immediately regretful for having done. This was the first time I could really see what my face looked like (not hidden by all the facial hair). I was mortified at first. I felt the best work to describe my new look was "lumpy". I considered renaming myself to Mr. Potato-head. I can laugh about it now, but when I first shaved... I about had a panic attack. You can see by my "smile" I was not thrilled.

 I know this picture had been added to the blog entry, but I wanted to make sure all the photos found their way into this gallery. This is my PEG. I hate my PEG. It is painful and is more difficult to deal with than I would have hoped. I'm complaining now, but I have no doubt I will be incredibly grateful for it here in a few weeks.

Slumber Party at the House of Pain

Hello, and thank you for returning to my blog. I know this journey has become one hell of a roller-coaster, and trust me, I greatly appreciate all the love, prayers, and support being thrown my way. I'm hoping this blog post will be a little more like my older posts... straight-up story telling.

So, I spent much of Tuesday playing telephone with multiple agencies withing the Banner University Medical Center (UMC). The first call I received was from a gentleman from the Interventional Radiology Clinic (IRC). He wanted to know if I would be available Wednesday (the very next day) to have my port and PEG inserted. Just as a reminder... the port is an IV line that will run into a cardiac vessel for easy access while going through chemo, and the PEG (Percutaneous Endoscopic Gastrostomy) is the feeding tube that I will soon rely on once the radiation burns enough of my throat and esophagus that I can no longer swallow. 

I had to inform the gentleman that I had an appointment already scheduled for Wednesday morning at Radiation Oncology for my CT Simulation (SIM) and mask fitting. He inquired about the time of my appointment and when I might be done. I told him it was scheduled for 0900 and was expected to last approximately an hour. He asked if I could come straight to the IRC immediately following for surgery. After a moment of hesitation, I told him yes. 

I was in the middle of texting Jessica to inform her I was having surgery the next day when my phone rang for a second time. It was one of my Medical Oncologist's assistants. She wanted to know how I was doing and if there was anything pressing I needed to report to them. I informed her that the IRC contacted me and requested that I have the surgery for the port and PEG placement on Wednesday. She was a little taken back. She knew I was going to get the PEG, but she did not think my Medical Oncologist wanted the port. She asked who requested the port, which I replied, "Dr. Radiation Oncologist." I informed the assistant that the radiation oncologist had told me he would submit the request for port and PEG insertion, but not until he first got the go ahead from the medical oncologist. Clearly... there was a lack of communication or someone dropped the ball. Probably both... Again I am pleased to know the military is not the only organization plagued with these types of problems. The assistant asked that I remain available through-out the day because she wanted to double check with my medical oncologist about the port. She was sure I was to have the PEG, but she was almost certain a discussion had been had and a decision made that I would not be receiving a port. 

You see... a port can be great because it provides a nice big, available IV connection site without having to run a new line every chemo visit. The problem with ports are that they can open a patient up to infection. Chemo already attacks and depletes the immune system. A port only adds risk of infection and illness. For some people... like the elderly, a port is necessary because their veins become very difficult when running new IVs. Also, the type of chemo I am having is only administered once a week for six weeks. I have big, healthy veins, so having a port only opens me up to the potential for unnecessary infections. 

Now... if I weren't having a PEG put in, I would fight for the port because that creates a quick and easy access point to run saline solution when I become dehydrated in the later weeks of radiation. Many head and neck patients that opt out of both the port and PEG end up getting hospitalized multiple times due to severe dehydration. I am opting to have one or the other to ensure I can maintain a good level of hydration and nourishment. My greatest hope is that my age and my ability to stay nourished and hydrated will enable me to fly through this nightmare of a treatment with lesser problems than many I have read about.

So, after a couple different phone calls between agencies, I was finally provided clear guidance. I was to go to my radiation oncology appointment, followed by a quick out-patient surgery at IRC for a PEG placement (no port). 

On Wednesday morning, I instructed Connor to pick Jacee up from school. Something told me that even though my out-patient surgery was only supposed to last a couple hours in the morning, that having Jacee picked-up was a good plan.  

Jess and I had left the house shortly after getting the kids off to school. We headed to the main campus hospital where both appointments were being held. My first stop was at radiation oncology, where I was scheduled for my SIM and mask fitting. After we checked-in, Jess and I took our seats in the waiting room. Jess had to use the restroom, so I sat there doing what I normally do-people watch. A man walked in with a child in his arms. He looked like a biker. The child appeared to be a girl based on the purple blanket she was wrapped-in, but it was difficult to tell since she was completely bald. I can only assume she also is a cancer patient from next-door where the children's hospital is located. That little girl reminded me there are many people in this world struggling just as am I. I can't imagine a child of her size going through the procedures I will soon endure. The entire moment filled me with a range of emotions. 

I wasn't in the waiting room long before being called back by one of the radiation technicians. My first stop was a phlebotomy room, where I was given an IV. Because of the way I had to be positioned for the SIM, I was not given an IV in my AC vein. Instead, the tech ran the IV in my intern vein, which is okay, but hurts a little more than the AC. 

Once hooked-up with an IV, I was sent back to the waiting room until the technicians in the CT imaging room were ready for me. Again, I wasn't waiting very long before I was once again summoned. 

The room with the CT scanner was much different than the room I had my other scan completed. This room had other pieces of equipment I could only imagine were used specifically for the preparation of radiation patients. In the corner of the room I could see a big tub of water. The temperature of the water was reading 158 degrees Fahrenheit. There were two technicians working with me. One was a slight overweight gentleman that had clearly been doing this for a very long time. The way he talked about the procedure screamed expert. The other technician was a shorter gal who was extremely nice. The two of them began explaining what I was about to experience.

First, they would have me lay down so that the back of my head would sink down into a hot piece of plastic. Next, they would place a padded tongue depressor in my mouth to keep my tongue from moving. After that, they would bring over a large, hot piece of plastic mesh that would then be placed over my face and shoulders, then molded to a tight fit. Last, they would run me through the CT scanner to ensure my position would meet the needs of the radiation oncologist. These images would also be used by the oncologist to direct the radiation beams, which are accurate to a precise millimeter. 

Before starting the procedure, I had to remove my shirt, otherwise it would have gotten very wet from the hot plastic mesh. As they had described, the entire process went off just as they had described. There was a big fan blowing on me while they placed the hot plastic to prevent it from burning my skin. I get steam towels at SportsClips every two weeks, so I was used to having a hot compression on my face. To be honest, the hot plastic felt nice on my neck, which is suffering from a major case of lymphedema. All-in-all, the procedure was quick and painless. The only part of the entire process that I would say was uncomfortable was the contrast dye the techs pumped into my veins for the CT scan. 

The entire appointment was supposed to last an hour, but I'm pretty confident Jess and I were out of there in about 45 minutes. When it was all said and done with... I left having a hard plastic mold of my head and face ready for when I start radiation. The female technician informed me that she and another gal would be my assigned radiation technicians during my upcoming treatments, which start on May 16th... one day following my first chemo treatment. I kinda wish it would have started on the 15th though; that was I would start on a Monday with my first treatment, and end my last treatment of a Friday. Oh, well.   

I returned to the waiting room to retrieve Jess. We had to hike one building over where central check-in for the radiology clinic was located. On our way there, Jess and I discussed whether or not we felt I would be under general anesthesia or some form of deep sedation. I liked the idea of being completely out of it, but I wasn't so hip on the idea of being intubated (having a breathing tube inserted into my airway). 

When we got to central check-in, I had to sit down with a receptionist, who walked me through all the paperwork I had to sign. It was all the same paperwork I signed for my first surgery, so I was able to get through it relatively quick. Once completed, I returned to Jessica's side in the waiting room until being called back. 

We hadn't been seated for more than five minutes before being called back by a nurse. She told Jess she could come along, which I always appreciate. We walked into a miniature pre-op staging room. I was assigned to a bed and told to strip-down and don a medical robe. I gladly put on a little show as I prepped myself for going under the knife. Once in my bed with the medical gown on, the two nurses began hooking me up to all my wire, tubes, and cuffs. The one gal was new to this section of the hospital, so she, Jessica, and I all learned of what my procedure would consist of together.

As the nurse explained what she thought I would under-go, a doctor entered into the room to interrupt our conversation. The doc asked if I had drank some powdered drink the night before. I told him I had not, nor did I receive any such instruction to do so. He replied by telling me that he had been informed that I probably had not received the drink, and therefor must undergo the more risky form of the surgery. Great! The drink I was supposed to ingest the night before was supposed to produce a lot of gas in my stomach, making it more distended and closer to the surface of my skin. The hope is that in doing so, the doctor would have a clear shot at my stomach without having to dodge any other portion of my digestive system... like a colon of intestine. Instead, I had to get an x-ray to determine if and where a window might exist where the doctor could penetrate both my skin and stomach without damaging any other organs. 

So, now I'm nervous. I'm sure this is all pretty standard, but I can't help but to think I was being short changed. 

While in the x-ray room, another doctor approached me and began questioning me about my previous surgeries. He was my assigned anesthesiologist. He informed me that because of the area of my prior surgery, they would have to put me completely under (general anesthesia). This means they would have to insert an endotracheal tube (intubate), which was something I was not looking forward to because that procedure often times leads to me having a sore throat for days following. 

Wow. So, to recap... I am having a PEG inserted outside normal protocols, plus I get to go through general anesthesia.

It wasn't long before the doctors had my x-ray film developed and felt they had a sufficient window into my gut to work with. The anesthesiologist came over and hooked me up to some wonder gas and off I went...

I woke-up in a post-op holding area with Jess already at my side. I'm always so amazed at how quick they are to re-unit family members before the patient can even comprehend anything going on around them. I recall feeling a bit of pressure right over what felt like my diaphragm. It wasn't pain...yet, but I could definitely tell something had occurred.

A couple of nurses wheeled me back to the IRC pre-op staging area where I was re-united with the same nurses I had earlier. Jess and I were informed that we were to remain in place for at least an hour before the doctor could release me to go home; this is standard practice for anyone coming out of general anesthesia. Jess sat in the chair next to me. While waiting, I the abdominal pressure I had a few minutes prior slowly turn into a very uncomfortable pain. At first the pain came in waves... much like what I would imagine a woman would go through during child birth. After a couple minutes the pain because unbearable. The anesthesia and pain medications had clearly dissipated, leaving me in extreme agony. The pain jumped quickly from a six to a ten (ten being the worse pain I had ever felt). Remember the pain I had endured following the biopsy... where the dentist had to throw in multiple nerve blocks to calm me down? This was worse. The nurses were in a panic. Jess was scared. And all I could think was how I was going to be one of those unfortunate people that die from a routine surgery. The nurse were taking my blood pressure every couple minutes. I could sense the panic in Jess' voice as she informed me that both my blood pressure and heart rate were going through the roof. I believe at one point Jess told me my blood pressure was 168/?? and my heart rate was well over 100. Not only was the pain unbearable... I felt like I was going to have a heart-attack. I was crying and throwing down "F" bombs, with no concern for anyone else around me. 

It took the nurses multiple doses of pain meds to calm me down. I've been reading into it, and I believe I may be one of those individuals that are immune to some pain blockers. Anything that derives from morphine does not usually work unless given to me in high-high doses. 

Because of this little bout with uncontrollable pain... I bought myself an one night, all inclusive stay at The House of Pain. I was admitted to the hospital, which must have been very busy because it took them nearly two hours to find me a room in the hospital. I got lucky! I had my own room on the floor dedicated to intensive care patients. All the nurses and med techs were extremely nice. I had a couple bouts with some decent pain, but nothing like what I had experienced in the IRC. Jess stayed with me until around 1900 before heading home to take care of the kiddos. I laid there for much of the night watching T.V., unable to sleep because the pain in my stomach was a little too uncomfortable. The nurses tried to give me different pain meds, but none of them were successful at eliminating the lain completely. 

At some point in the night, I realized that the pain I was experiencing felt a lot like hunger pains, only super magnified. I had not eaten since 2100 the night before, so it had been well over 24 hours since I had anything to eat or drink. I wondered if my pain had anything to do with not being able to eat?!? I paged the nurse and asked if I could have anything to drink. She told me that the doctor had given strict orders that I was not to ingest anything (no water or food)... which I already knew. I was hoping I could sweet talk the nurse into a cup of water. 

The doctor stopped by my room at 0700. He inquired about my night, asking me about my pain, which I told him was still there, but manageable. He took a look at my PEG tube and listened to my lung sounds. I asked him if I could start eating, which he agreed to a clear liquid diet. The doctor wasn't there long, but rest assured, the minute he left, I paged the nurse for a cup of ice water. And would you believe that as soon as I drank some of that water... I felt immediate relief?

The water provided me enough relief to finally get some sleep. Jess showed up right at 8, so it was a short nap, but well appreciated. With Jess being there, I order up some breakfast. Because I was on a liquid diet, all I could get was a cup of chicken broth, cranberry juice, some hot tea, and some apple juice. I also got Jess a cup of coffee. I would have ordered her a full breakfast, but the kitchen knew I was on a liquids only diet. 

It took all morning and into the early afternoon before I was finally discharged from the hospital. I had a meeting with a pain management doctor and a nutritionist before being given the go-ahead to leave. As soon as we left, Jess and I drove up the street to this killed Hawaiian food restaurant called Mama's. 

So, two lesson to be learned from this whole ordeal... 

1. I need food. I can not go without food, or I get SUPER HANGRY. In extreme conditions, I undergo extreme stomach cramping that uncontrollable by pain meds. (Jess informed me I would not last of "Naked and Afraid.") 

2. I do not respond well to morphine based pain relievers. I've looked-up a couple articles that confirm this type of condition is legit. I would be curious if any of you share this condition? Do you tell your doctor? At what point do you start sounding like a drug addict when you start demanding certain drugs over others? Is this a common practice? I'd like to know what you think.