Monday, September 09, 2013

Today's Chemo Session

In my line of work there’s a common acronym:  RTFM.  (I’m always a little reluctant to use it, since I have to make a mental adjustment for the “F”.  J)  We’ve seen numerous “Amazing Race” episodes where I’ve almost shouted it at the screen.  Today it seems to apply to me.  To paraphrase slightly, READ THE INSTRUCTIONS!!!  You’d think I’d know better than to trust my memory, but I was sure I only needed one pill before going to chemo.  Turns out I need two.  That little oversight cost me.
 
My appointment was this morning at 9:00 am.  The needle poke itself was significantly less painful than last time, but it was still fairly nasty.  It didn’t take me long to fall asleep, only to be pleasantly awoken by our Pastor.  We had a very nice visit – I really enjoy talking to pastors, especially if we can chat about the odd theological question.  After he left I went back to lethargy, though I don’t think I feel asleep.  Around the time that my final, 15-minute bag of chemo was to start, I started to feel a little nausea.  By the time it came time to head for the car, I wasn’t sure I’d make it.  Sure enough, before I left I had to grab the garbage can.  Fortunately it was a fairly short session, but vomiting for me is fairly intense.  It’s not quite as bad as for my father or sister, who actually pass out when they vomit, but it’s no fun.  Anyway, they seem to take that kind of thing very seriously in the chemo department!  The nurses came running, and immediately tried to determine the cause.  Fortunately Sue was there to help me remember what drugs I’m on, so they were able to work out the issues.  They gave me another one of the pills I was supposed to have taken, as well as a fast-acting one for a more immediate response.  Ten or fifteen minutes later I felt good enough and we left.  I haven’t had another bout since, but I expect I’ll be taking ALL my medication next time!!!
 
Anyway, the rest of the day has been fairly good.  I was quite tired again, so I had a decent nap before heading out for hockey.  We were very happy to learn that Brodie made the hockey team he was trying out for, so we took him out to one of his favourite restaurants to celebrate.  I was happy that my supper didn’t taste like someone dropped the pepper shaker into it – I had some war wonton soup that was really quite good.  However, I had some lemonade to go with it, and drinking that was a bizarre experience.  I remember the first winter hike I did with my buddy Barry.  We were at a creek that was still running high up in the mountains, and the water was so cold that the instant you dipped your pot into the water, it coated the pot with a layer of ice and instantly formed a layer on top.  That’s how drinking the lemonade felt:  like it instantly coated my lips, tongue, and throat with ice!  It felt very bizarre, but I got through it.  It was also somewhat reminiscent of that candy that the kids used to get that kind-of exploded on your tongue (pop rocks or something?).
 
One last thing to share:  the “verse of the day” from biblegateway.com was perfect today:
Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.  Isaiah 46:4 NIV
 
God bless!
 
Brad.

P.S.  Oops!  I just looked back at my old post in which I thought I’d mentioned the pepper, but it looks like I didn’t, so that reference may be too vague.  The first two suppers I had after my first chemo session were lasagna and farmer sausage.  Both meals tasted like someone had dropped the pepper shaker into the food.  The first supper I actually asked others whether there was something wrong with the lasagna, but they confirmed it was just my taste buds, not the food.  The second time I was expecting it.  That sensation disappeared after that, though.  The next time I had some leftovers of the same lasagna, it tasted great!

Just thought you might like some context for that one.

Brad.

Wednesday, September 04, 2013

A Happier Update

Before I get to the main part of this story, I thought I should mention that it’s interesting to observe myself going through all of this.  My spirits seemed to take a significant turn for the better Sunday after an evening church service (to help Brodie make up for missing the morning service for hockey try-outs, and Sue for work).  Apart from some periods of grumpiness yesterday and today, I’ve been feeling quite a bit better.  The port is finally starting to bother me less (more itchy than painful by now).  However, my energy level seems to be attached to a yo-yo.  I get tired quite quickly/easily.  I also seem to be much more affected by low blood sugar.  If I go too long without eating, I really notice myself starting to drag.  In fact, it wasn’t until after a Peters’ burger Sunday evening that I started to pick up.  J

Today, in what seems to have become a never ending queue of trips to doctors, we went to see another surgeon.  This is the one that will hopefully cut a piece from my liver later this year.

This turned out to be a bit of an unusual visit.  It started out poorly.  We had an appointment for 11:30, but didn’t actually see the doctor until 12:45!  It’s safe to say I wasn’t particularly happy about it, and ranted to Sue at length about how they should respect other people’s time and how the medical profession should, after a week or two, learn to adjust their schedules:  if 15 minute appointments aren’t enough, adjust them to 20 minutes, etc., etc.

When the doctor finally came in he was quite business-like.  In fact, shortly after he first came in, he left again so I could change.  Sue said something like “well isn’t he personable” with all the sarcasm she could muster.  I, being a guy, said “I kinda like his interface”.  However, after he returned he quickly won Sue over with what he did and said.  First of all, he went out, tracked down a suture removal kit, and removed a couple of left-over sutures (from the port).  That blew us away:  we thought doctors delegated that kind of thing to nurses!!!  But that was only the beginning.  In our initial banter I said, off-handedly, something like “I’m dying from cancer”.  He jumped on that and said “no you’re not!”  I had to explain to him that that’s just the way I talk, that it doesn’t mean I’ve resigned myself to the fact, and that I intend to fight it as best I can.  Then, among his first words were “my goal is to cure you”.  Yes, he actually used the word “cure”.  Needless to say, we were both taken aback.  He then went on to explain the situation with my liver (two spots on two different lobes, for a total of four spots), how they were hoping the first round of chemo would shrink the tumors (especially one near some important blood vessels), and how he was really hoping to get them all with one surgery, but that he couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t take two.  If all goes well, I’ll get re-scanned in late November, with surgery in December.  His optimism was so refreshing, but what was even more important (at least to me) was how competent he seemed.  That kind of competence instills confidence in guys like me.  When we finally left two hours after our initial appointment, we were no longer quite as bothered by having had to wait.

Anyway, this battle is far from over, and the odds are still against me, but it was so nice to hear a bit more optimism.  Now if only I could get back a bit more consistent energy levels.  After all, I couldn’t play hockey or go skiing on what I’ve got in the tank these days!!!

Brad.