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!