Who knew hiccups could be so debilitating? Walking, standing, sitting, reclining, lying down, home remedies, drinking water, slow breathing, holding my breath – nothing helped! At the worst of it, my entire body would convulse several times with each hiccup. It was no fun! But what was worse was what it did to my brain. As far as I know, I’ve never had a panic attack, but that seems like a good way to describe what the hiccups did. During some fits I felt like I just couldn’t get enough air. And then eventually it felt as though each one would make me vomit. And there just didn’t seem to be anything that would allow my brain to settle. It felt so very psychosomatic, and yet I seemed helpless to fight it. Great news: I never vomited and they eventually passed! J
That was Thursday. Yesterday was calmer, but the nausea has arrived. My energy level was very low – too low to send out an update. Today (so far) I’m feeling a little better, though still somewhat nauseous.
In the mean time, we managed to lease a car (Toyota Camry, in case you care) to replace the Acura, and Brodie made the main AAA hockey camp (not the team yet – that’s still to come) he’d been trying out for. Life is good!
Brad.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Quick Chemo Update
Well, this may well be premature, and I may regret sending
this soon, but… so far the only side effects I’ve experienced from the chemo
are “chemo hiccups”. The one article I read on the web said those are a
not uncommon side effect of one of the anti-nausea drugs. The nice thing
is that it also said that “people who suffer from chemo hiccups are much less
likely to suffer from nausea and vomiting”, so I’m optimistic. J
I’ll also give you a bit of an update of the chemo treatment
itself. The appointment was at 2:15, and started with some cleaning of
the port – removing bandages, etc. That wasn’t particularly fun, since
the port still causes me pain and this was a bit rough. However, it was
bearable. The thing that took me a bit by surprise was when the needle
went into the port. That was excruciating! Sue gave me her hand to
squeeze and I had to control myself not to break it! I felt cold sweat
all over my body and nearly climbed the wall! They said the first time
was worst, and I certainly hope that’s true. They also mentioned some
cream to apply for next time that might help.
After the pain from the jab subsided, which took maybe 5-10
minutes, the rest was very uneventful. I sat there for about three hours
letting the fluid drain into my system. Pastor Jim dropped by and I had a
nice visit with him. Next time I may bring my laptop as well, since I
could probably get a bit of work done if I were so inclined.
They sent me home with a bag attached the port (hanging on
my belt) with more drugs that drain into my system for the following two days
(it gets detached Wednesday afternoon). I don’t notice it much, really –
it’s not that big of an inconvenience.
For a less-than-flattering picture, feel free to take a look
at http://pletts.elegantlogic.com/Photos/ShowPhoto.aspx?Folder=2013_08_26_01&Photo=WP_20130826_001.jpg.
Next time I’ll wear a button-up shirt!
That’s about all for now.
Brad.
Monday, August 26, 2013
Oncologist Visit
I’m a little slow with this update, but as my Mom used to
say: better late than never. Yes, I think of my parents a fair bit
these days, perhaps because I look forward to joining them someday, and lately
that “someday” seems just a little closer. J
I did have my oncologist meeting on Friday. The meeting went well, and we learned two important things: 1) I am a surgery candidate (as we’d already suspected, but this was confirmation – and good news :-), assuming a scan after the first three months of chemo still suggest it’s worth it, and 2) my outlook is not as simple (and perhaps not quite as bleak) as my earlier email suggested. I thought I had heard that I had a 20% chance of making it beyond five years. However, it’s a bit more complicated than that. The oncologist reiterated that with no treatment the median life expectancy is one year, and with only chemo it’s two years. However, with surgery, the more accurate picture is that in 80% of cases the cancer returns within five years. If/when it does, the clock kinda resets and they may still be able to attack it further with more chemo and/or surgery. In fact, the doctor said that in “men as young as I am”, they can sometimes cherry-pick the liver for a while. I’m not sure exactly what “cherry-pick” means in this case, but I assume he meant cut off cancerous stuff as it appears (i.e. multiple surgeries). It sounds like each round would be decreasingly effective, but still might add a bit of time to the clock. Oh and yes, he referred to me as young. J I’ve generally felt young and healthy for my entire life, but I admit I’ve been feeling significantly older with all this going on (and with how slowly/gingerly I move these days due to my multiple wounds)! So, generally that was all good news.
Additionally, he was pleased with the way my surgery was healing up, and with the way the port was healing. The port news wasn’t quite as positive, though. I guess they won’t be using it for everything as I’d understood. It is used only for the chemo drugs, not for blood work. That means that when they draw blood every two weeks, they still poke me. Those of you that know my problems with needles (both that I don’t enjoy them and that medical people often have trouble finding my veins) will understand that was a bit of a disappointment, but really pretty minor in the grand scheme of things. It did, however, give me a little pause just because the port has caused me almost as much pain and discomfort as the surgery did! Well, that’s not accurate since the surgery was a lot more painful initially, but the port pain and discomfort just seems to be sticking around longer than I expected. I wondered at one point whether the port will be worth it in the end, given the pain and discomfort, but I’m sure it still will be.
One other thing I learned is that the liver surgery is likely to be roughly as invasive as the colon surgery, so that won’t be fun. Still, I’ll take things as they come, one day at a time.
Anyway, I want to leave you with another passage of scripture, possibly slightly out of context, but still very relevant:
Tomorrow (well having looked at the clock, I guess “today”, but after a sleep :-) it’s off to chemo. That appointment is at 2:15 PM. They say I should expect to be there 2.5-3 hours, and that I’ll be going home with a bottle attached to my port that they remove two days later. The big bummer is it will force me to miss one of Brodie’s hockey tryouts, but oh, well, perhaps it will keep me alive to watch even more hockey in the future!
Brad.
I did have my oncologist meeting on Friday. The meeting went well, and we learned two important things: 1) I am a surgery candidate (as we’d already suspected, but this was confirmation – and good news :-), assuming a scan after the first three months of chemo still suggest it’s worth it, and 2) my outlook is not as simple (and perhaps not quite as bleak) as my earlier email suggested. I thought I had heard that I had a 20% chance of making it beyond five years. However, it’s a bit more complicated than that. The oncologist reiterated that with no treatment the median life expectancy is one year, and with only chemo it’s two years. However, with surgery, the more accurate picture is that in 80% of cases the cancer returns within five years. If/when it does, the clock kinda resets and they may still be able to attack it further with more chemo and/or surgery. In fact, the doctor said that in “men as young as I am”, they can sometimes cherry-pick the liver for a while. I’m not sure exactly what “cherry-pick” means in this case, but I assume he meant cut off cancerous stuff as it appears (i.e. multiple surgeries). It sounds like each round would be decreasingly effective, but still might add a bit of time to the clock. Oh and yes, he referred to me as young. J I’ve generally felt young and healthy for my entire life, but I admit I’ve been feeling significantly older with all this going on (and with how slowly/gingerly I move these days due to my multiple wounds)! So, generally that was all good news.
Additionally, he was pleased with the way my surgery was healing up, and with the way the port was healing. The port news wasn’t quite as positive, though. I guess they won’t be using it for everything as I’d understood. It is used only for the chemo drugs, not for blood work. That means that when they draw blood every two weeks, they still poke me. Those of you that know my problems with needles (both that I don’t enjoy them and that medical people often have trouble finding my veins) will understand that was a bit of a disappointment, but really pretty minor in the grand scheme of things. It did, however, give me a little pause just because the port has caused me almost as much pain and discomfort as the surgery did! Well, that’s not accurate since the surgery was a lot more painful initially, but the port pain and discomfort just seems to be sticking around longer than I expected. I wondered at one point whether the port will be worth it in the end, given the pain and discomfort, but I’m sure it still will be.
One other thing I learned is that the liver surgery is likely to be roughly as invasive as the colon surgery, so that won’t be fun. Still, I’ll take things as they come, one day at a time.
Anyway, I want to leave you with another passage of scripture, possibly slightly out of context, but still very relevant:
Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we
are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light
and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs
them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since
what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
I really encourage you to take a look at what follows that
in chapter
5, but if I started pasting that in here, I’d have trouble knowing where to
stop!Tomorrow (well having looked at the clock, I guess “today”, but after a sleep :-) it’s off to chemo. That appointment is at 2:15 PM. They say I should expect to be there 2.5-3 hours, and that I’ll be going home with a bottle attached to my port that they remove two days later. The big bummer is it will force me to miss one of Brodie’s hockey tryouts, but oh, well, perhaps it will keep me alive to watch even more hockey in the future!
Brad.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Quick Update
So I got my port put in today (a picture of it, still covered in dressing, is at http://pletts.elegantlogic.com/Photos/ShowPhoto.aspx?Folder=2013_08_20_01&Photo=WP_20130820_003.jpg), and the next event is another meeting with the oncologist on Friday.
I haven’t heard if I’m actually a surgery candidate yet, but I do have a consultation with a liver surgeon on September 4, which would seem to suggest it’s likely – I just don’t want to read too much into it.
Anyway, thanks again for all your prayers, thoughts, and concerns!
Brad.
P.S. This has nothing to do with me nor my health per se, but it was shared with me this week, and I enjoyed it so much I thought I should pass it along:
http://www.godvine.com/Christian-Painter-Creates-a-Holy-Image-That-ll-Leave-You-in-Awe-Check-It-Out-3788.html
I haven’t heard if I’m actually a surgery candidate yet, but I do have a consultation with a liver surgeon on September 4, which would seem to suggest it’s likely – I just don’t want to read too much into it.
Anyway, thanks again for all your prayers, thoughts, and concerns!
Brad.
P.S. This has nothing to do with me nor my health per se, but it was shared with me this week, and I enjoyed it so much I thought I should pass it along:
http://www.godvine.com/Christian-Painter-Creates-a-Holy-Image-That-ll-Leave-You-in-Awe-Check-It-Out-3788.html
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
No Sugar Coating
It appears God intends to test our faith, either in how He
heals me or in how He provides for Sue and the kids.
We met with the oncologist Dr. Monzon today, and he informed us that the cancer had definitely spread to the liver, and maybe even the lungs. He went on to say that as recently as seven years ago, that was an automatic death sentence. Now, however, there was some (if limited) hope. I think I’m summarizing correctly when I say that with no treatment, I have approximately a year, and with straight chemo-therapy I may have two. However, if I’m a candidate for surgery, there is a 20% chance (maybe even 20-40% chance, depending on whom you quote) of being cancer-free in five years. Yes, if you do the math, it means about an 80% chance of being gone in 5 years. The oncologist will be speaking to the surgeons over the next few days to decide if I’m a good candidate for surgery. They make an evaluation now. Assuming I am a candidate, there is a slim chance they’ll want to do the surgery immediately. More likely they’ll do 3 months of chemo, do another evaluation and, if it still makes sense, do the surgery, followed by another 3 months of chemo.
So, it looks like the following is the most likely scenario for my immediate future:
Brad.
We met with the oncologist Dr. Monzon today, and he informed us that the cancer had definitely spread to the liver, and maybe even the lungs. He went on to say that as recently as seven years ago, that was an automatic death sentence. Now, however, there was some (if limited) hope. I think I’m summarizing correctly when I say that with no treatment, I have approximately a year, and with straight chemo-therapy I may have two. However, if I’m a candidate for surgery, there is a 20% chance (maybe even 20-40% chance, depending on whom you quote) of being cancer-free in five years. Yes, if you do the math, it means about an 80% chance of being gone in 5 years. The oncologist will be speaking to the surgeons over the next few days to decide if I’m a good candidate for surgery. They make an evaluation now. Assuming I am a candidate, there is a slim chance they’ll want to do the surgery immediately. More likely they’ll do 3 months of chemo, do another evaluation and, if it still makes sense, do the surgery, followed by another 3 months of chemo.
So, it looks like the following is the most likely scenario for my immediate future:
- August 19 – chemo class
- August 20-22 (somewhere in there) – have a port inserted (a “Port-a-Cath, which is different from a “PIC line” for you medical junkies J)
- August 23 – another appointment with the oncologist
- August 26 – start chemo
Brad.
Thursday, August 08, 2013
Tuesday, August 06, 2013
Goodbye staples!
Hi folks! Not a lot to report today. Recovery
from the surgery is coming along (including a nice drive to the mountains with
my sister yesterday), and I got the staples out this morning (all 39 of
them!). I’m hoping to be able to start working from home again bit by
bit, hopefully starting tomorrow.
I guess now the focus will begin to shift from removing the
tumour and recovering from that surgery to the reality of cancer. The
next event on that schedule is a meeting at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre on
August 13.
Brad.
P.S. I’ve begun chronicling this journey on a blog
just so that as I add people to the email list, I don’t have to send extra
emails or include all the history in each email. You can find that at http://pletzky.blogspot.ca/, but don’t
worry – I expect to keep sending email updates. The blog will just
contain copies. J
Thursday, August 01, 2013
Yay, I'm home!
It was an unexpected delight this morning to hear the doctor
say I was being released today. I’m still very dopey and groggy, but I’m
writing this from the comfort of my own home. Yes, I’m now sitting in my
office, having been chauffeured home by my lovely wife and served chicken soup
by my lovely daughter! Life is good! J
Thanks again for your thoughts and prayers!
I’ll be getting the staples out sometime early next week.
So, the pathology report has already returned, and confirmed
it was cancer. I’m not good enough with the medical details to provide
very specific information, but the tumor was between 4 and 5 cm in any
direction (i.e. maximum diameter was less than 5cm). There has been some spreading, though it sound like not a lot (1 of the 18 lymph nodes removed with the metre-long section of colon contained cancer cells). I’ve been referred to the Tom Baker Cancer Centre, which is where I’ll be going when I’ve recovered from surgery a little more.
I was thinking of putting a picture of the incision with this email, but Sue thought that might not be the greatest – not everyone would want to see it. So, if you ARE interested, you can see it here: http://pletts.elegantlogic.com/Photos/ShowPhoto.aspx?Folder=2013_08_01_01&Photo=WP_20130801_002.jpg
I was thinking of putting a picture of the incision with this email, but Sue thought that might not be the greatest – not everyone would want to see it. So, if you ARE interested, you can see it here: http://pletts.elegantlogic.com/Photos/ShowPhoto.aspx?Folder=2013_08_01_01&Photo=WP_20130801_002.jpg
Thanks again for your thoughts and prayers!
Brad.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)