I saw my Pulmonologist again. I asked him about the black spots I saw when he had the camera in my lungs. He said those spots were my bronchial tubes, and that he saw nothing unusual in there.
He said all my tests came back negative, and he suspects the Revlimid was causing the cough and the low blood numbers. He asked for another scan to confirm my improvement.
I saw my Urologist again. It was the three year anniversary of my prostate cancer surgery. The blood test results say PSA is undetectable. Those words are sweet to my ears. I am thankful for my recovery from that cancer and surgery.
I saw my Oncologist again. She agrees the Revlimid was probably causing a negative reaction. I stopped taking it a couple months ago. She strongly recommends that I continue my low dose chemo maintenance with Velcade.
Revlimid was a pill; Velcade is administered as a shot in the stomach. I’ll get one every two weeks. It’s the same shot I was previously getting twice a week.
She reminded me that maintenance medication will give me more time between transplants, and if it buys me a year, it’s well worth it, not just for pushing the next transplant a year farther down the road, but she said with the frequent new developments in the treatment of Multiple Myeloma, one year could make a difference in the future treatments I might receive.
That’s me having a lot of fun with co-workers Bret and Geo at George’s Retirement Beach House Weekend
I’ve had a few doctor appointments since my last post. I always think I’m going to find out something when I see them, but it’s often a visit or so later before I do.
I gave blood to the pulmonary doctor, and saw him again the next week when he put a cable camera through my nose and into my lungs (a Bronchoscopy).
Before inserting the camera, they squirt really terrible tasting Novocain into your nose and down your throat. When you numb up, there is a temptation to panic, because you feel that you can not swallow, but you really can.
I saw the dark spots in my lungs. I didn’t want to look, but I saw them. Balls of cat hair were immediately ruled out. I won’t see the doc again until next week, but the shared tests results that are back are all negative.
That’s good, except the cause of the cough, spots on the lungs, and lack of improvement in my blood counts remains a mystery.
The prime suspect, though, is shaping up to be the daily low dose of Revlimid (chemo) I was taking. My rate of cough has dropped since I quit taking it.
My latest Project: Power Steering on the ’57 Chevy
My current project is installing power steering on the ’57. I’m nearly finished. If you know where to look, you can see the new steering box, rag joint, and just a little bit of the new steering column. It feels good to be able to chip away at a project.
“Maybe it’s another cancer,” I offered. “Oh, no – I’m sure it’s not,” the nurse replied. I’ve been coughing quite a bit since about Christmas. So much that the guys at work agreed I should change my name to Koffman.
When I saw the doctor, my blood counts were very low. I may have a virus or infection. She prescribed antibiotics and a chest x-ray, and said to come back next week. Upon returning, still coughing, I was told to get a CAT scan.
There was a dense area on the chest x-ray the doctor wanted to learn more about, possibly a ball of cat hair that has reached critical mass (my probable diagnoses, not hers). What ever it is, we will soon find out, I will be adding a new doctor to my list of doctor friends next week when I visit the Pulmonary Associates.
We get to do this every four or five years. This is where the spreader motor was giving us a little trouble.
I called the doctor’s office. I had taken a week off work to go to Florida to meet my new-born first grand son. Instead, I was in misery and wondered if my transplant had failed.
I had sweats, chills, constant coughing, and an episode of explosive vomiting, which is ultimately better than trying to breath deep and hope you can “keep it down.”
I spoke to a nurse who determined I had the flu. She said don’t come coughing in here, we’re full and busy. She gave me a prescription for cough syrup with codeine. I had an appointment with my oncologist in about a week, so I just concentrated on resting and getting better.
Diane and our grandson, Kellen. I hope to meet him in March
When I did see my doctor, I asked if I was in remission. She said “partial remission.” I asked what is the difference between partial and full remission. “Very expensive and intrusive testing” was her answer, so, I think I can be happy with partial remission.
If this is partial remission, I could enjoy it the rest of my life.
I passed the 6 month mile marker since my transplant. The reward for that is to stop taking two horse pills daily (Acyclovir 800mg). They’re the size that when I put one in my mouth and take a couple swigs to wash it down it will often stick there like the start of a log jamb in the back of my throat.
Because of a low white blood count, I am also to temporarily quit taking my daily low dose of Revlimid.
A friend of mine, Jerry Wright, had cancer. His wife posted this on their site a couple weeks before he died on December 15th. Tami, I hope you don’t mind me reposting it here:
Written for Jerry Dec 2, 2013 8:32pm
I think it’s safe to say that Jerry’s happiest times and fondest memories are a result of time spent on the shores, and in the waters, of Suttle Lake where he delighted to camp since he was a toddler…..where he was determined he would teach me to waterski (NOPE), and where he was sure I would learn to love camping as much as he did (well…maybe).
Jerry commented last evening, as we prepared for the night, that he was ready to fold up….I think he meant for the night, but it reminded me of the process of “breaking camp” at Suttle Lake….a lengthy process that included folding up the tent; this folding took time…it was about the least fun of all the activities, and though it had quite a presence when it was erected, when the tent was folded you knew the camping trip was pretty much over.
Jerry’s tent is folding…he hasn’t eaten in nearly two weeks, sleeps most of the time, and is surviving on small sips of water and tea. I feel like we’re breaking camp; putting things in order…preparing for the trip home; one last stroll to the shore…reminiscing about what a great time it was….and this is what I read in 2 Corinthians 5:1 today:
“For we know that if the earthly tent which is our house is torn down, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.”
