Chemotherapy – Couldausedanotherday

Real Good News Today

I stopped in for my monthly Oncologist visit and a quick (bi-weekly) shot in the chemo lounge – they have Velcade on tap.

Test results and news from the doc isn’t always good, but you take what you get and do the best you can with it.

Today I received very good news. The two main Multiple Myeloma cancer indicators the doc monitors are Light Chains and M-Protein. She said my Light Chains currently are “perfectly normal” and my M-Protein is undetectable (normal).

The trend towards normal began in June. She also noted that I’m approaching one year of low dose chemo treatments. She said two years of this is the standard prescription. If things go well, I won’t be taking it the rest of my life.

I have a friend, Dave, who just had cancer surgery and will likely have radiation, and a friend, Diane, who is waiting for biopsy results. I wish I could share this report with them. I don’t mean share the news, I wish them similar results.

Thank you for your continuing prayers and support. I remain grateful to God for my every blessing.

Something is missing……

A burden is gone, and I don’t know where it went, or exactly when it left. I just realized one day that it had disappeared.

When you’re diagnosed with cancer, it puts a sharper perspective on your mortality. Everyone knows they will one day die, but having cancer brings that “one day” into sharper focus. When your next diagnosis is an incurable cancer, that “one day” almost seems to be lurking near by.

The thought of death was constantly on my mind, it was always there. Always. It became exhausting. No matter where I went or what I did, the thought of impending death was involuntarily foremost in my thoughts.

It was not the fear of death, I know the one true God; it was the reality of my impending death. That notion monopolized my mind for months, and then one day I realized it was gone.

I’m not sure what changed. Maybe I just wore the idea out. Maybe the “hope” my treatments have brought has kicked that “one day” a little farther down the road.

*It was great to have Robin home for 10 days in October*

My medical insurance is now covering Revlimid, which I am taking daily as a low dose maintenance medicine. I mentioned in an earlier post that my insurance company refused prior authorization for Revlimid as part of my chemotherapy and suggested my doctor use something they determined to be a “better overall value.”

I got a little angry at that, thinking my life might end sooner because they wanted to use a cheaper drug. I would leave this earth, arrive in Heaven, and God would turn and ask me, Scott – what are you doing here so early? I had a couple more years planned for you but I guess that darn insurance company messed things up!

I realized again that God knows the exact number of my days. The anger went away.

Now Begins Real Adventure

After finishing the chemo treatments, food tastes good again, constipation is gone, and I am not so easily out of breath. Ending the treatments also meant ending my sanctioned boycott of professional dental cleaning.

With Wednesday’s teeth cleaning I received a mouthful of x-rays to make sure there were no impending infections that would interfere with the stem cell transplant process.

I apparently passed my pre-transplant tests, the electrocardiogram, an echocardiogram, and a pulmonary function test. They wanted to see that I’m likely to survive this adventure.

*“Line” is a much friendlier name than Central Venous Access Device*

Yesterday was a full day at the Providence Cancer Center in Portland. Everyone I came in contact with was more than kind, starting and ending with my cousin, Abraham who drove and spent the day there with me. My Central Line was installed and I received a strong dose of chemo.

I was awarded a box full of supplies including those needed for cleaning the Central Line daily, and some pre-filled Neupogen syringes for the twice daily subcutaneous shots to be administered by Diane or myself through the next week or so. This is to encourage stem cell production.

In about nine days, stem cell collection should begin. Sometime after that, I will move into my temporary home in the hospital. God knows the end of this fascinating story. I must play it out one day at a time to see how it concludes. Thank you all for your prayers and support.

I Think It’s Going Okay

One more infusion will get me to the free week of series two, except that it’s no longer free. It will be free from shots, but since I’m tolerating the meds well, I’m instructed to continue the thalidomide through the free weeks.

The self administered shots leave red patches on my stomach. They’re starting to resemble a camouflage pattern but I suppose its really chemouflage.

The needle is actually short and small. I told the nurse she could stand at the edge of the carpet in the Chemo lounge, and I would stand by my chair and hold my shirt up. She could test her skill and toss it like a dart. Liability is such a big wet blanket that spoils so much fun.