Radiation Station

By the time many of you have read this, I will have completed my second radiation treatment and taken another round of the chemo pills. So far, so good.

The radiation was pretty much what I expected. I lay on a table and a machine with an arm that extends over the top of the table hovered above me. The arm can move the machine to either side of the table and can even go underneath it. For me, I received a shot of radiation on both sides and one from underneath. It was just about 15 seconds in each position. I had a slightly embarrassing moment right before we got started. One of the rules there is that you have to put on a pair of their scrubs. I put the scrubs on and tied them up and headed in. After lying down on the table, but right before the radiation started, the guy asked me to pull the scrubs down a little so they could make sure that the pelvis was aligned correctly on the table. As I started to undo the knot, I realized that I had double knotted it, like a shoe knot. Short of having this problem while standing at a urinal, there is no worse feeling in the world than having someone else watch you try and get that knot out.

Probably the weirdest thing about that part of it was what happened after. As I had mentioned in a prior post, they put three dots on me to make sure I was aligned correctly for the radiation machine. The dot under my belly button must have been wrong because they needed to mark a new spot, which they did with a piece of tape. Some special kind of tape that won’t come off…ever. To get the tape on me, there had to be a little shaving done in an area that doesn’t usually see a razor. Not so far south that I felt the need to inquire about his alcohol intake and his steady hand, but south enough that the feel of a razor being held by someone else was slightly concerning.

After that was done, we began the drive back to the Sault, during which, I slept a good part of the way. I’m taking the Road To Recovery van today. That’s a van (obviously), that goes from the Sault to Petoskey every day for people who are receiving radiation. It’s pretty cool because it’s a free service and the drivers are donating their time to help out. I’m not sure how I’ll like the van since there will most likely be other people in it, and I’m going to be tired and wanting to sleep on the way down and the way back.

When I was younger, I took a trip to Barbados. While there, we took a “bus”from our hotel to whatever tourist spot we were going to. Barbados is an English speaking Island, but for whatever reason in that corner of the world, bus must translate into “Volkswagen van.” By the time I got to my destination, there must have been 40 people riding that thing, and while they are a nice people, they are not shy. Nor are they concerned with personal space - theirs, or more importantly, mine. I walked 10 miles that day because I refused to get back on that thing for the ride back. We rented out a cab the next day and greatly overpaid the driver to stay with us the whole day. After the first “bus” ride though, I decided that the cab might have been the best money I spent on that vacation.

Since then, any form of public transportation that involves more than Kelly and I in the back of a taxi makes me a little nervous.

Did I mention that it’s a free service? (I’m praying for bucket seats)

Later last night after catching a little more sleep and then eating dinner, I found myself facing the task of putting the chemo pills in the handy-dandy pill box that was sent to me along with them. I don’t know why, but I had been delaying this and when it was finally done, I just sort of sat on the couch looking at it. I opened up the section designated for Monday Evening and shook the pills out into my hand. Or it might have been that my hands were shaking so bad that they knocked the pills out and I was lucky enough to catch them. Either way, the pills ended up where they needed to be. I stared at them, trying to let them know what was permissible to do to my body and what wasn’t. Finally, after getting my point across, I threw them back with some flavored water and closed up the now empty compartment. I don’t know what I was expecting to happen, but nothing did. I went to work last night and experienced no ill effects. I sincerely hope that continues.

Thank-you for all the concern as to how it went and the thoughts and prayers that were sent my way before the process began.

I Will Win

The arrival of the pills

t was a cold snowy morning when the pills came. The flakes falling from the sky were small, but numerous, wet and heavy, sticking to the ground instead of melting away. The white blanket it created on the ground gave one the feel of December instead of October.

I stood over the sink doing dishes and watching fall transform quickly into winter in front of my very eyes. Why is it that winter never morphs into spring as quickly as fall disappears into the cold, snowy embrace of winter?

It's funny, the effect that the snowfall can have on a person. I immediately felt like Christmas was right around the corner and with that feeling, came memories of childhood and Christmas Eves and Days spent at Grandma Shiel's house.

I was lost in my nostalgia when Bear (our St. Bernard) began barking at the window in the living room. I snapped out of my reverie and went to the door, knowing without looking that he was barking at the UPS driver who had come to deliver my chemotherapy pills.

I signed the driver's tracking device and took possession of my package, still not wanting to believe that the day is coming very close when I'll have to actually ingest them and hope that my body will remain strong.

What you just finished reading was something that I started writing last night. I guess I must have been feeling pretty down. I just sat down intending to finish it and after I read what I had written, my first thought was that Charles Dickens had just written a new story. “A Chemotherapy Christmas.”

Anyway, the only new news is this. The pills are here, and I have to take my first dose on Monday after my radiation treatment. Although I'm apprehensive about the effect that they might have on me, I am anxious to get this stuff started because that means that it'll be over that much sooner.

I think that my wife is trying to kill me, by the way. We have started a walking program together and it amounts to two miles a night at a pace that a Kenyan marathoner would have a hard time keeping (or around 4 mph, whichever sounds faster to your ear.) I have dropped 10 pounds in the four days that we've been doing it. Amazing what changing your diet and exercising a little will do. Who knew?

But don't you worry Kelly Church. I'll be checking into the life insurance coverage and if I find out that there's been some massive change in benefits.... Trouble.

Actually, I'm very grateful to my wife for helping me get on the right track. Her workouts are slowed down by my turtle-like pace and after we get home from the Big Bear (walking track), she gets on the treadmill and puts in another 2 or three miles. How she does it I don't know. My legs feel like a couple of  wet spaghetti noodles when we're done. Where did the days go when we would play basketball for an hour in St. Helen at open gym and then pile in a car and drive to Roscommon and play for another two hours at their open gym? Oh yeah, straight to my right knee, that's where.

My change in diet took a little hit today though. I had dropped some winter boots and snow pants off at school for Abbie and she asked me to come back and eat lunch with her. I accepted after finding out that it was pizza calzones. When I say pizza calzone, what I really mean is hot pocket, regardless of what the school calls it. It was soooooooo good. Not to say that the food I've been eating is bad because Kelly has really helped me find foods that are both good tasting, and healthy, but I guess it must be true that the forbidden fruit is the best, because I've never liked a hot pocket as much as I did today.

And what's not to like about watching a bunch of second-graders play with their food and burp in each others faces and talk about how one kid's lunch looks like crap? (I found out today that crap is a swear word, so I guess poop must be the appropriate substitute).

It was actually nice being able to spend that time with her. One of the things that the doctors have told me is that I basically have to become a hermit while the chemo and radiation are going on. My immune system will be low and being around kids is a hazard. So, no more school visits for awhile and they even told me that if I go to Walmart, to go late at night or real early in the morning when it's less crowded and thus, less chance of catching something.

If I don't write anything before Monday, I'll let you know how the first treatment goes, although I suspect that it'll be somewhat boring.

As always, thanks for the support and good wishes!!

I Will Win

The Plan

Well, we officially have a plan. I will begin radiation and chemotherapy treatments on October 28 and I will have 28 treatments. We met with the radiation oncologist on Thursday morning and got all the details worked out. (actually this consisted of them telling me what was going to happen and Kelly and I nodding a lot).

While I was there, I also got a CT scan and got three new tattoos. They dotted me on both hips and under my belly button in order to help line me up correctly when they are giving me the radiation. This was the easy part of the day.

On the way home, we had to stop at the oncologist's office in St. Ignace and get chemo training. I had been looking at this as a formality and something that wouldn't take more than a few minutes. I was wrong.

The nurse sat us down and started talking to us about the possible side effects of the chemo. I'll be taking it in pill form during the radiation. The form I'll be taking is called Xeloda. This hit me harder than I thought it would because there are a lot of potential challenges to face while taking this stuff. A lot of them, I knew about already. Fatigue, nausea are the ones you hear about the most, along with the hair loss of course. The ones that I didn't know about included mouth sores, and a condition that causes your hands and feet to dry up and crack. For whatever reason, this really got to me. I knew it wasn't going to be a picnic, but I guess I just hadn't given too much thought to what could happen once the chemo started.

The other thing that made the visit not overly pleasant was a discussion about my blood sugar. I am a Type 2 diabetic. I manage it with metformin. Anyone who knows me knows that I like my food and I don't always do the best job of taking care of my sugar. In my last post, I talked about meeting with my brothers and playing golf when the call came with PET scan results. I had forgotten my pill box when I went down there and I didn't take my medication for two days. Of course, I didn't eat very well when I was down there (pizza and breadsticks) and then on the way back, I stopped and got some Kentucky Fried Chicken and some wedges along with a large Mountain Dew. This, added to the stress of waiting for the test results, made my sugar sky-high.

Part of the oncologist visit in St. Ignace included a blood draw. I guess I thought they were going to be testing for lots of things to do with my chemo pills, but never thought they'd be testing my sugar. Wrongo!

I got a call from the oncologist the next day at 7 pm and he told me he was calling to make sure I was still alive because my sugar was high. Really high. My wife thinks I should be divulging the number at this point, but it's really kind of embarrassing. The oncologist also made sure to tell me that he called my family doctor and told him about it too, so in addition to the scoldings I've already taken, I've got at least one more coming pretty soon.

I got out all my testing stuff from the bottom of a drawer in the bathroom and Kelly went to Walmart and picked up some test strips for me. I tested it yesterday for the first time in over 5 years and while it was still high, it was down over 150 points from where it was at the Oncologist's office. Kelly, who has been my rock through this whole thing, has taken over as my new dietitian. I have an app on my phone that tracks the nutritional value of everything I eat. I guess the good news out of this whole thing is that I'll be killing two birds with one stone.

With the sugar under control, I'll sleep better because I won't be getting up to pee every two hours, and that extra sleep will make a whole slew of other things better, including helping with the fatigue that I'm sure to feel during the chemo and radiation. Another important aspect of the sugar is that it inhibits the healing process which is important so that I can recover from the treatments prior to the surgery.

I expect to lose some weight from the chemo and radiation and this will help with the sugar as well, so on the positive side, if I can shed 20 pounds and some back hair, I might come out of this whole thing smelling like a rose.

On Friday night, my youngest daughter Abbie went with us to watch my stepson Shane's final home football game. He is a senior and they got to go out with a big win over Posen. The reason I mention this is because while Abbie was here prior to the game, and was listening to Kelly and I talk about everything that was going on. I had started writing this entry and she asked if she could type while we were talking. I had only gotten one sentence in so I said sure. What follows is her version of what we talked about. She is seven and I didn't edit her at all. Some of it is written in the first person, and some in the third. So, without further explanation, here is my first guest-blogger.

I am happy to announce that there is now a plan and a schedule for me.I will not eat anymore snacks like candy bars for my hole lifetime or any meat with no nutrients because my body needs to heel so when my daghter graduates in 2024 I wont need to ride my scooter in to her graduation. And I don`t want to make my body think it`s ok to eat sugary foods because then it will think it`s fine to eat them ALL THE TIME and thats not what i`m trying to do.Plus my daghter Abigael will not lose all her teeth because she will be eating healther to. And now I have to eat proiten bars and club crackers,my breakfast yesterday was green beans three apples club crackers, ham and finally three more slices of ham and i`m not off to a good start today I think I should not eat any more un-healthy stuff for the rest of the day. And I walked a half a mile yesterday and I was 2,977 calures over and my wife was with me yesterday and I drank 100 onsis of diet pepsy and on my diet of things today is raisin bran and all have it in a ceral bowl with two cups and all be having to cups of 2 persent milk. And I drank one cup of water already and for dinner i`m having a hambergur. And I promise I will eat better and even when this ends I will still eat better. I will listen to my doctor and not eat over the calorie limit I have. And today I will not eat anymore nachas for the rest of the day and keep my diet above and right now i`m lieing that I walked a quater mile but right now i`m calling for help to make my famliy think I ran a quarter mile. And now i`m saying I can not be over my calories because I don`t want to get in trouble. I think I should take exercise lessons with my daghters gym teacher Mr. chromy. I think I on not work nights I should not sleep in at all at less I have work tomorrow because sleeping in bed the hole day isnt exerciseing and not eating healthy I can only sleep in if I can exercise in my sleep and eat healthy if I don`t my daghter and my wife are going to jump on the bed and say waky waky eggs and bakey. If that dosint work they will shout in my ear.It will start the next day I dont have work. Right now my daghter abigael is typeing and my dad is wanting to tell every body they can help me be healther. Although im not a couch potato.

With this kind of “support,” how can I lose?

I Will Win

News from the PET scan

This entry in my blog has two subtitles. The title line should actually read:

News from the PET scan

The Brotherhood

The day my golf game went to shit

To make this as confusing as possible, I'm going to address these titles in reverse order.

My brothers and I got together at my mom's house on Monday night and hung out. I had been wanting to get together with them once before the radiation and chemo process started. Both Graham and Clay took the day off work on Tuesday to come up and play, so thank-you guys for that.

We tried to find a place to play golf on Tuesday, but the closest two places we called were essentially closed. One was on the honor system, and the other was taking reservations on an answering machine but had a rope across the driveway. Our answering machine reservation was not honored.

We eventually decided on The Dream. It's a course that's located between St. Helen and West Branch on a road that we have always called “the old way to West Branch.” The actual name of the road might be M-55, but don't quote me on that.

The course was beautiful and was extremely well maintained, especially considering how late in the season it was. We played the back nine with a cart for $25 each.

I was playing pretty well on the first two holes (well for me, anyway) and then it happened.

Kelly called me and said that my oncologist's office had called her and they had the results of my PET scan. They wouldn't share any of the results over the phone but wanted to meet with me at 3:00 in St. Ignace. Of course, this stressed me out to no end. My tee shot on the next hole went about 30 yards to the right before hitting a tree. On the ensuing Mulligan (do-over), I went even farther right and hit another tree.

The rest of the round went a lot like this as I was spending half the time trying to find my errant shots and wondering what was going to happen at the meeting with the oncologist. What if they told me that there was more cancer? What if they stopped using the word cure and started talking about prolonging life? How would I tell the kids? All kinds of thoughts were running through my head, and not the cheerful, good news type.

I have been very careful to avoid thinking about stuff like that and yet there I was, entertaining the worst possible scenarios and trying to keep it together in front of Graham and Clay.

The Brotherhood

Looking back at it on the drive up north, I'm sure Graham and Clay knew exactly what was going on with me. I told them about the phone call, and much to their credit, they kept things light and made fun of me when I hit a bad shot, and tried to keep my mind off it.

Graham is four years younger than me, and Clay is four years younger than him. They are very different personalities, and I am blessed to have them as my brothers.

Graham is one of those people who has supreme confidence in himself and he is very firm in his convictions. I often envy him in that regard. He has the ability to talk to anyone and is a natural leader. He has an iron will and can often get things done on that facet of his personality alone. One of the things that I like about him the most is his sense of humor. When we're together, we spend most of our time laughing and joking around. I could tell you a lot of stories to make my point here, but probably the one that I think about the most is a time when we were playing football up at the soccer fields in Roscommon. He was playing quarterback for his team and I picked off a pass that he threw. I was running the interception back and dodged a couple players and then it was just me and Graham. We made eye contact and I started to smile. Then he smiled and before I knew it we were both laughing out loud and the play just sort of stopped.

Then there's Clay. Clay is one of the few people that I know that I believe is doing the job that he was born to do. He is a DJ for a very popular radio station in Flint and he does the morning show. I've listened to him on the air and he's good at it. Really good at it. He has a lot of responsibilities at his station and always takes my teasing gracefully. I always make fun of him about only working for four hours a day because that's how long he's on the air. His job actually requires about 70 hours a week.

Clay also has the ability to talk to anyone, but he's different than Graham. Graham draws people to him somehow, while Clay has a knack for just going with the flow. I think in a different world, Clay would have been a great surfer. He has that mind-set that whatever's going to happen is going to happen and we just need to find a way to roll with it. When I told Clay I had colon cancer, the first words out of his mouth were, “I'll donate my taint if you need it.”

They have both been extremely helpful to me through this process and I have drawn on both of them. Graham's force of will, and Clay's “don't stress” attitude have shaped my attitude about dealing with the cancer.

We don't ever say the words, but Graham and Clay, if you're reading this, I want both of you to know that I love you and that of all the blessings that have been bestowed on me in this life, having you two as my brothers ranks high on the list.

So, on to the PET scan.

I recently went to my family doctor because I had a knot on the back of my neck. I've had it before from time to time ever since I was a kid. I have a cyst back there that sometimes fills up and needs to be drained. It got to that point about a week ago and I told them about it when they did the PET scan. The nurse said that she would tell the person reading the scan about it because it might show up as a positive reading. It did, and there was a communication breakdown somewhere because my oncologist thought that the cyst was more cancer. When we went in to talk to him, he asked about it and I told him what was going on and he said that he was really relieved and that other than the original cancer, my scan was clear.

I can't even tell you how good it felt to hear those words come out of his mouth. It was like someone had just lifted a piano off my shoulders. The road will still be long, but not nearly as long as it could have been.

I have an appointment with the radiation people tomorrow (Thursday) and we'll see what they say about when I start that part of the journey.

 

I Will Win

Radioactivation

So, I have been “radioactivated.”

It was pretty much how I thought it was going to be. Which is to say it was pretty straightforward and easy. I was taken back into a room and had an IV hooked up and then they shot some radioactive material into me and I had to sit in the dark and wait 90 minutes for the stuff to work its way through my body. That actually worked out pretty good since I found myself up at the kitchen table at 3:30 in the morning last night thinking about the implications of this test. I had myself so worked up over the damn thing that I think I slept about a grand total of an hour and a half. Of course, I got about 90 more minutes once that IV was hooked up and I was reclined in the chair they put me in.

Watching the preparation for the the “juice” that they put in me was a little disconcerting. After giving me reading material and then telling me verbally that the amount of this stuff that they were going to inject me with is so miniscule that it would not affect me at all, I watched the nurse put on rubber gloves and take out this steel container that looked like a small time capsule. She proceeded to screw off the lid with a caution that led me to believe that we were dealing with unstable plutonium. (and maybe that's like saying I ate some fish that tasted fishy, I don't really know much about nuclear ingredients. Maybe plutonium is always unstable, and not just this particular batch.)

But here's my thing. If it's so miniscule as to not affect me, put your money where your mouth is and take off the gloves sister. I kept thinking of Eddie Murphy telling Stevie Wonder, “You wanna impress me?” “Take the wheel mother******”

And actually, I can't complain. As has been the case everywhere I've been so far, the staff was great. The IV didn't hurt at all and everyone was super-nice.

 

The scan itself only took about 20 minutes and was very much like an MRI without all the noise. The tube was bigger too, so there was no sense of "how am I gonna get out of this thing if the zombie apocolypse starts right now and those two come in here looking for a meal?"

I asked very nicely to be able to know what the results were at the conclusion of the scan, and was told that it just wouldn't be possible, that my oncologist would have to be the one to let me know. That's not going to happen until at least Monday, so, more waiting.

On a side note, since my radioactivation, I have been conducting subtle tests for super powers. The tests are not complete, but thus far, I have figured out that I have not been imbued with the ability to fly or run super-fast, nor do I seem to have any sort of x-ray vision. Stamina does not seem to have been enhanced either (sorry Kelly Church, I was really hoping you were going to catch a break there.) On the way out of Petoskey however, I was able to point two fingers at a red light, whistle, and yell “Presto Chango!” and watch the light turn green. There may be something to this, but more testing is definitely required.

That's all I have for now. I will update everyone as soon as I have the results, and thank-you as always, for your continued positive thoughts and prayers. I don't know that it's just one person who beats cancer. I think it takes the strength of a family, a circle of friends, and a community to give a person the will to do battle. Thank-you, all of you, for that.

I Will Win

Tomorrow

When I started this blog, I told myself and everyone else that I was going to be open and honest about everything that goes on with this process. One truth about this thing that I have not admitted to anyone but my wife is that I'm scared. Really scared.

Tomorrow I go in for a PET scan to determine whether there is more cancer in my body than what they've found so far. Today, about 30 minutes ago in fact, it hit me that the results of tomorrow's test are going to have a huge impact on how we go forward

On the bright side, my doctor said we caught it early, but on the other side of the coin, the two lymph nodes they found that were enlarged mean that it could be anywhere. Tomorrow's test will tell the tale.

Despite being scared, I remain completely confident that I will beat this thing. I just hope that the road doesn't get any longer based on tomorrow's results. I won't know what those results are for a couple of days, which bugs the hell out of me, but short of pulling off some sort of sit-in vigil, I don't think they're going to tell me on the same day.

I don't usually ask for this sort of thing, but if you could just cross your fingers for me tomorrow, or say a quick prayer, or call whatever good luck charm you have into play, I will be eternally grateful.

I will post again tomorrow after we get back from Petoskey, and then again after we get results.

I Will Win

The oncologist visit

Before I begin this next post, I want to say thank-you to everyone who responded to my first entry.  One of the things that I have been thinking about since I found out about the cancer is the fact that I read a lot of what everyone else has to say on facebook, but I don’t usually put much on there myself.  I read about things going on in other people’s lives, both good and bad, and while I silently celebrate or sympathize with the person who posted, I don’t usually send anything.  I guess I didn’t realize how much that small comment or “like” might mean.  I do now. 

 

So again, I say thank-you for your kind words, your wishes for my quick recovery, and most of all, just the time that you took out of your day to simply show your concern. 

 

I went to the oncologist on Thursday and didn’t really receive any new news, we did get a couple things accomplished. I have an appointment for a PET/CT scan in Petoskey on Oct. 11^th, and an appointment with the radiation people on the 17^th, also in Petoskey.

 

That scan will be the next big piece of news because that will let us know whether it’s one battle we’re fighting, or multiple battles.

 

I wasn’t really sure what to expect when we went to the oncologist. I expected a general consult, and I figured that my chemo and radiation treatments would probably start on Monday. It’s not going to be quite that simple as we have to wait for the scan and to see yet another doctor.  I’d really like to just get this started and over with, but the oncologist pointed out to me that a couple of weeks isn’t going to make a difference based on the kind of tumor I have and that it’s better to be right than fast.  He seems confident that the chemo and radiation will be effective in making the surgery easier and lessen the likelihood of the cancer coming back.

 

I’m sure that most of you have read Tom Sawyer, but if any of you have not, please do so immediately. The reason I say this is because while driving to St. Ignace on Thursday, the thought struck me that I must be doing something wrong. In one part of the book, Tom was ordered to put a few coats of whitewash on a fence. He got out of it by showing his friends a bad cut on his big toe in exchange for them whitewashing a portion of the fence. I’m showing doctors, nurses, medical students, and pretty much anyone wearing a stethoscope or a flower-pattern medical outfit stuff way more gross than a cut on my toe, but so far, there have been no offers for so much as a car wash.  I’m sure I’ll have more opportunities though, so maybe something will turn up.

 

I’m going to try and expand my blog a little bit and talk about more than just this one thing going on in my life.  I mean, there can only be so much to talk about between appointments.  I know that I have repeated myself a lot on this sentiment, but thanks again to everyone for their support and good wishes.

 

I. Will. Win.