Scott

Day 4 / Treatment 2

I just got home from my second Chemo treatment. In official Chemo Lingo, that would be Day 4 / Treatment 2. So far, any effects I’m feeling have been very minor and fleeting (but hopefully the good effects are going on inside like they are supposed to).

Day 1 / Treatment 1 was Monday, February 25th. It was a longer stay, including an IV and a visit to the Chemo Lounge. If all goes well, I can avoid having IV’s or a port, and get my Velcade shots sub-cue. That’s a polite medical term for sticking a needle in a handful of flab, subcutaneous.

After the hospital visit (and every evening of the two “on weeks”) I go home and take about 15 pills. One is the other main component of my Chemo, the Thalidomide pill, plus a hand full of small steroid pills, and some other assorted pills, some I take daily anyway.

This will go on for three cycles of two weeks on and one week off. At the end of those cycles, I will be re-evaluated and may get another cycle or two, and then maybe a stem cell transplant.

Thank you for your prayers for Diane and me, for all the kindness, and for asking how we are doing. A lot of folks are very private about their medical concerns, I probably talk too freely about mine, but blessings have come from that.

You and others telling me you are praying are blessings; some were very unexpected. One said they don’t normally pray, but they are praying for me. That fills my heart with hope.

SURPRISE!

Last Saturday, Diane and I were invited to our friend’s house for dinner. It turned out it was a surprise party for me, a show of support before I venture off into the world of chemotherapy.

The house was nearly full of kids. Well, when I met them they were kids. Now, many of them have kids of their own. Almost everyone there had been in a high school or middle school youth group when I had been a helper or leader. I always thought some sort of reunion would be amazing.

Mike, I understand it was your idea. Nathan, I’m told you were in on it from the start. Marika and Addie, I know you had a lot to do with making it happen. Thank you. You could not have done a nicer thing for me. I don’t know how to express this better. It was the nicest thing. It was awesome to greet and hug everyone. I miss my friends and the time we shared in the youth group.

I had to tell everyone that my treatments were postponed one week due to an issue with my insurance company. My oncologist planned on using Velcade and Revlimid, a combination she has used for Multiple Myeloma patients many times, but apparently not with patients who have the same insurance company I have.

The letter I received disallowing prior authorization of Revlimid said in part, “Our doctors and pharmacists study the safety and effectiveness of drugs to help you choose those with the best overall value,” and ended with, “Please let us know if we can be of further assistance to you.”

*A lot of the kids in this picture made it to the party*

So, my treatments begin Monday with Velcade and Thalomid (Thalidomide). I’m hoping one of them will knock out this cold and ear infection.

Crossing The Border

At my appointment today, my Oncologist said the bone marrow biopsy and the elevated protein in my urine place me directly on the boarder line between smoldering Myeloma and full on Multiple Myeloma, and with the rate of progress the disease is making, we should waste no time starting treatment.

The biopsy shows my plasma cells are now at 40% (normal is 5%) and it again confirmed my 17P deletion, a very unhappy component with MM. I had another full skeletal survey. If it shows any bone lesions or tumors, I will have radiation treatments and delay chemo. Without that delay, I’m scheduled to start chemo in about two weeks.

The chemicals that will be injected are names I have read many times on Myeloma blogs and forums, Bortezomib (Velcade) and Revlimid. I was awarded a bonus catalog with my new membership in the chemo club; I’m told it will be an interesting read.

The therapy is a series of injections, two weeks on and one week off, that runs for three months. I hope to keep working; doc says there will be good days and bad.

At the end of the chemo therapy, if my improvement ranks anywhere between slightly favorable and good, I will then prepare for a stem cell transplant, which involves a month stay in the hospital. The options for one who does not respond favorably are fewer and even less attractive.

I guess we’re getting stronger. When we left the doctor’s office, Diane and I walked right past the bench where we sat and cried after receiving my “incurable cancer” diagnosis a year and a half ago. I’m not looking forward to this, but I’m told it will extend my life.

A feeling of sadness wants to take over now and then, but its crazy how I keep thinking about how many sick or hurting people would gladly trade their malady for mine. On the bright side, this may be a good opportunity to lose a few of those pesky pounds I have gained back, and I may not have to worry about combing or trimming my hair for a while.

*A favorite shot from above Detroit Lake, Oregon*

Kerry, thanks again for the breakfast, I hope you have a great birthday; Betsy, sorry I had to bail on you from Face Book; Bobby, thanks for driving out for lunch, it was nice to have a little time to visit with you; Loren, I don’t know if I’ll make it down to your house this spring like I usually do.

Diane and I thank God every day for filling our lives with blessings. Each of you are counted as at least one of those blessings. I love this Peace that is from God, and your prayers magnify it.

Put Some Ice On It?

Diane picked me up about 3:pm and took me to the doctor’s office. I think they schedule the Bone Marrow Biopsy patients at the end of the day as not to frighten other patients with any screaming.

A nurse installed the IV and gave me some morphine and Ativan. The doc came in and I told her I was under the impression I was going to get more drugs than last time, but here and now, we were looking at the same dose as before. I reminded her I felt the bone marrow Bolt of Lightning pretty strong last time we did this.

She and the Nurse explained it was much preferred for my safety to give too little rather than too much, they didn’t want me to “Code” right here in the exam room. I pointed out that they had a, “Crash Cart” right outside the door, how dangerous could it be?

Then came the moment I’d been dreading, I laid face down on the table. The doc found the target spot in my exposed hip and began injecting something to numb the area. She then confessed she would not really be able to numb the pain we affectionately refer to as, “The Lightning Bolt” when she breaks through the bone, but she would count it out as she did last time and it would soon be over.

I was a little disappointed at that news, but no turning back now. She asked if I could feel her tapping on my skin, I said yes, I could feel it plainly. I think that got me another injection because as she continued to poke and push there, I felt only pressure. She said, “Here we go,” and I heard something hit the floor and roll, probably that big, marrow extracting, bone biting, spike needle tool.

One of them began counting slowly, professionally, “One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three,” as the other lunged quickly to snatch it from the floor in accordance with the Five Second Rule.

I felt a small pain which I understand was the aspiration, and another strange but tolerable pain and shaking, which I understand was taking a chunk of bone. “One thousand five, that’s it.”

Okay, maybe they weren’t chasing the big needle thing across the floor in those five seconds. Maybe they were actually counting as promised – for my benefit, not like at work where we count to annotate that grace period before food that has fallen on the floor should no longer be eaten.

CLARIFICATION: I work at the Public Works Department and our motto is, “Come for the job – Stay for the humor.” It’s the Waste Water Treatment Plant whose motto is, “We don’t have a five second rule!”

*I took this picture in Troutdale, Oregon, picking up a truck load of insulation*

The bone marrow biopsy results will be back in about a week.