Tag: life

My Cancer Journey IX

My Cancer Journey IX

With apologies to those of you following this blog. Last week, I was dealing with some unexpected financial matters. I will blog about what happened a bit later. During the meanwhilst, we are about to find out what happened during my next visit to my Oncologist…

The Devil in Details

“What happened to you and why didn’t you tell me?”

My Oncologist wasn’t very happy that I was in her exam room with a pair of crutches. She was equally unhappy that I had gone to the Emergency Room without telling her. My take was that I was too busy being in pain and hoping for an end to my misery to even think about calling her.

Carol was with me. She was introduced to My Oncologist. After the niceties, we got down to business.

Twelve rounds of Chemotherapy over 24 weeks, starting as soon as possible.

It wasn’t as if they had left a few cancer cells hanging out on my liver. They had all been ablated – they had disappeared, headed to a lab where someone in a lab coat determined that the cancer on my liver was the same sort of cancer found on my rectum two and a half years earlier.

She then told me that even though the cancer had disappeared, she was recommending a series of chemotherapy treatments to ensure that any stragglers that may have been in hiding would no longer be floating around in other parts of my body ready to attack. The reasoning was sound. So, why not?

There were several steps leading to treatment, the first being approval from the insurance people. Well, there were two approvals, the first being the installation of a port up in my chest so the drugs could be pumped into my system.

The first approval came rather quickly.

Two weeks after my consultation with my Oncologist, I was back at the hospital to have a port installed. The procedure itself took less than ten minutes and was done while I was semi-awake. Prior to the procedure, I was given topical anesthesia to cover for the small incision needed to insert the device. Just before the actual operation, I was given something that allowed me to be mostly awake while the device was installed.

A half hours’ worth of recovery and I was good to go, with Carol driving, of course.

Then there was the wait for approval of my treatment. My Oncologist advised me that she wanted to get me started as soon as possible – perhaps as soon as the Wednesday after the port was installed. Once every two weeks starting September 20th.

That ship sailed. Not unexpected, since I would have gotten the green light from my insurance carrier before any action needed to be taken.

In the meantime, I was scheduled for a couple of classes on how to be a cancer patient. At least that’s the way I describe it. The first class came nearly at the end of September. I had a session with a Nurse Practitioner via telemedicine. We had a lovely chat where she explained what I would be taking and in what order I would be taking each medicine. She then told me of what she would be prescribing for me to pick up at the Princeton Pharmacy. Of five prescriptions she sent, four were pills to be taken to prevent nausea and vomiting. The other was for a cream I was to put on the skin over the port an hour before my infusion started.

The second class was much like the first, except I met a different Nurse Practitioner in The Oncologist’s office where I had questions about the treatment I would start getting on Wednesday, the eleventh of October.

There were certain roadblocks left to go around. I had a pair of appointments with Texas Vision and Lazer Center, one on the same day of my visit with the Nurse Practitioner at the Oncologist’s office, and the other a week later, on what would be day 6 of my first round of Chemotherapy. One of the questions I asked was whether the drug the doctor at TVLC was going to interfere with any of the drugs I would be getting with my Chemo. I was assured that there was no problem, other than having Carol drive me to the session where I was going to have the dilation.

I made a call to my Primary Care Physician’s office about the continuing saga with my right leg. I was running short on Eliquis and wondered if I still needed to take it. My PCP said that he wanted to see what was going on himself. On Monday. The same day I was to have the session with my Oncologist’s NP and on the same day I was having my first session with TVLC. Fortunately my session with my PCP was later than either of the other two appointments.

My Monday (10/9) was, therefore, busy. In fact, I likened Monday and the rest of the week to resemble a Railway Timetable.

We’ll get back to what transpired later. Next, a word or two about the drugs I’ll be taking.

My Cancer Journey VIII

My Cancer Journey VIII

Thrombosis

The Wednesday after Labor Day, I noted that my right leg was giving me trouble. Nothing that a few more Acetaminophen couldn’t handle.

Thursday, the pain was worse. I could barely get around the block with Filbrix. When Carol got home, she laid down the law. If I was still having trouble the next day, I was to call my Primary Care Physician.

The pain was worse. I called the PCP’s office and told them what was happening. After consulting with his nurse, I was instructed to go to an imaging center as soon as was practical and have them scan my leg.

I called the recommended imaging center and was told that the soonest they could see me was mid-afternoon. If I needed to see someone sooner, there was another center across the street from Baylor McKinney.

I needed to see someone sooner. An appointment was set, I secured Filbrix, and was on my way.

The imaging center appeared to be well run. I was in an exam room within five minutes of my arrival, having an amicable chat with a young woman who was in training. I was in good enough spirits to give my standard answer to my date of birth (If your sweetheart didn’t get you something for this day, he or she really doesn’t care for – followed by the year) and then telling the woman I was “Thirty-Nine.” Neither the technician or the observer had a clue that I was referring to Jack Benny, so I explained the connection and we discussed more recent comedians. The technician revealed that his birthday was on the same day (different year) while he was doing his job.

At the end of the session, I was told that it looked like I had a blood clot. I was given a disc to give to a doctor when I had the opportunity, or when I got to the Emergency Room. I left the center and sat in the car waiting to see what I needed to do next. My PCP’s office was a good half-hour drive from where I was parked. On the other hand, the Emergency Room at Baylor McKinney was across the street.

It took about ten minutes of waiting in the car to get the call from the PCP’s office to go to the Emergency Room. It took another ten minutes to drive to the ER, park the car, and hobble inside.

Just the little bit of walking I had to do from point A to point B caused a considerable amount of pain. Triage, if you could call it that, consisted of my giving them the information they already had, having my vitals checked and allowing them to do bloodwork. Never mind that I had a readout from the imaging center across the street. I needed to sit and wait. And wait. And wait.

It didn’t take me long to figure out that a blood clot in the leg could break loose and head for my heart, putting it out of commission. The clot could have bypassed the heart and headed to my brain, giving me a stroke.

Still waiting.

Carol came by with a friend to give me aid and comfort. She was there for a couple of hours before going home to relieve Filbrix.

Finally, after a shift change, I was seen by a doctor. After what seemed like another hour or so of back and forth with more imaging, I was told that I indeed had blood clots, but the solution would be to put myself on a blood thinner until the problem went away… hopefully within a few months.

I got an initial dose of Eliquis and was told that I should have a prescription to pick up later the next day. With the drug came the instruction that I could no longer shave using a blade and shaving cream. (Sorry, Harry’s. You had to be sidelined.) I also had to be careful not to cut myself. This was, indeed serious.

I made it home nearly twelve hours after leaving the house. Much of that time spent waiting in the ER waiting area for them to call me in to see a doctor. I hate to think about what might have happened if one of the clots broke loose while I was there. Nearly a week later, a friend of mine had a bout of acute appendicitis. Went to the same ER and waited. And waited. And waited, until he passed out and hit his head on the floor.

Passing out and hitting his head got him sent to the head of the queue. Could have killed him. Thrombosis could have killed me.

I thought that I would be out of the woods once I got home. After another night of pain and restlessness I looked forward to Carol going over to the local chain drugstore to get Eliquis.

Once again, the chain had nothing available.

Time for plan “B”.

A call was made to the locally owned and operated apothecary in what passes for Downtown Princeton Texas. They didn’t have the full prescription available, but the pharmacist had enough to get me through the weekend until he could restock.

Guess where I am telling my doctors to send any future prescriptions!

There were a couple of other considerations having to do with my leg. Carol decided that I could get around a little better if I were to have a wheelchair at my disposal. Next day delivery from Wallyworld.[1]

I decided not to risk cutting myself with the Harry’s razors I had been using, so, I ordered a Norelco rotary shaver through Amazon. It came overnight.

I was in pretty good spirits when the wheelchair arrived, and I adapted to it relatively easily. By the time Sunday rolled around, I was confident enough to go to worship with Carol… telling people that I was only using the wheelchair to garner sympathy.[2] By the following week, the wheelchair mostly sat idle. Crutches were available, I was adept with the things to the point that I was able to go most places with little problem.

Two weeks after surgery and three days after my little trip to the Emergency Room, I had my follow-up with my Oncologist to find out about the next step in my journey.

[1] My term for Wal*Mart, even though two of my stepchildren are employed there.

[2] The line about using the wheelchair to garner sympathy was recycled from the Canadian TV series SCTV. The “Station Manager” used a wheelchair to get around, even though he could walk perfectly well – telling people that the reason he used the wheelchair was to garner sympathy.

My Cancer Journey VII

My Cancer Journey VII

Happy New Year! Time to get back to my story from last summer…

Recovery

Home at last!

In pain, but I was home at last!

Carol and I planned to make me as comfortable as possible when I got home. I was still a bit woozy from what transpired twenty-four hours earlier. The dog Filbrix was more than happy to see me. She tempered her usual enthusiastic greeting, sensing my temporary infirmity.

There were some inconveniences, like the bandages.

I had four incisions, each covered by bandages designed to help hold my incisions in place until my body would hold together by itself. Used to be stitches, now instead, the pieces are held together with Superglue. I had instructions to leave the bandages on until they fell off in the shower, which I could not take for a day or two after surgery. Even though the surgery was at the tail end of August, I had no problem with going ahead and waiting inside – with the air conditioning.

Another inconvenience had to do with sleeping. Over the years I have become accustomed to sleeping on my belly, or at least sleeping on one side or the other. At home, like at the hospital, I had to learn to sleep on my back.

Carol may have had a premonition that there might be something going on requiring a hospital-type bed when we went to a home show six months earlier. It took considerable coaxing and 18 interest-free months of financing, but we went ahead and bought the bed. By the time I got back from the hospital, I still wasn’t used to the bed despite trying a variety of positions including something called “Zero-G.” It didn’t take me long that first night to figure out that I was not going to be comfortable in the fancy bed. The other alternative was the recliner in what passes for our living/family room. It worked well. Filbrix was happy to be able to watch me as I tried to sleep as best I could.

I could have slept better but for the fact that the narcotic prescribed by the doctor to ease my pain was not available at the chain drug store.[1] Carol was told that the drug in question would not be available until the following Tuesday. The day after Labor Day. That left me with Acetaminophen. In my mind, it was not really a good choice for someone like me who had had at least the edge of his liver cut away. There were warnings on the bottle stating that using so many pills in a certain time frame might cause liver damage. Other than the bit of cancer detected a month earlier, my liver was working quite well, thank you very much.

Pain was managed with the idea that maybe a miracle would occur, and the pills prescribed by the doctor would magically appear.

No miracles, but I was able to make it through the Labor Day weekend with just a little bit of problem. One problem averted by not having the narcotic was the constipation associated with narcotic use. Certainly I could tough it out until the following Monday when I was scheduled to see Dr. Palanisamy for my follow-up visit.

There were a couple of problems that caught me by surprise.

Since I was told not to lift anything over 20 pounds, I ran into a problem with the bed. One of the tasks I have set myself was to wash the sheets and make the bed on Fridays. Something I had noted was that the mattress tended to slip off to one side over the course of the week. It was no big deal for me to bounce the mattress off to one side while making the bed. With the weight restriction, I decided to ask Carol to make the correction when she got back from her job.

Well, I forgot.

In the middle of the night when I was attempting to get up to use the bathroom and let the dog out to do her business, I fell out of bed with the mattress coming down on top of me. It took me about five minutes to get up, have Carol put the mattress back on the bed, do what I had originally planned to do, and get back to bed.

On the chair in the living room.

I was thankful at the time, knowing that it could have been worse. I had passed a major hurdle with no other hurdles in sight between me and my visit with the oncologist.

I almost made it to that visit unscathed.

Almost…

[1] The name of the store and the name of the vendor of the bed are withheld. I don’t want any trouble.

My Cancer Journey IV

My Cancer Journey IV

Life in Temporary Limbo

For the better part of three weeks, I had to wait out the machinations behind the scenes at various doctors offices and the insurance company handling my Medicare account.

There really wasn’t much to do except try to live my life as best I could, taking care of what I needed to take care of to keep the household running. It was during this period that I made the decision to keep track of my disease and post what I could on the internet.

I started with a couple of synopsis on Facebook. I started with a remark about missing the Trifecta, followed by a more complete recap on the Sunday following the news from The Oncologist. I ended the entry with a bit of serendipity:

“The next steps include an MRI, a visit with a different surgeon, and an appointment with the Oncologist – probably after the surgeon goes fishing in my body for a sample.

The first couple of weeks in August will probably be quite interesting.

I am upbeat.

If I ended up having to have Chemotherapy, I could pretend that I’m Lex Luthor![1]

Not to minimize some of the battles other people of my acquaintance have had with “The Big C.” Cancer is a big deal. I am thankful that my journey so far has been as easy as it has been.”

And so it goes.

I took the time to write in my personal blog space courtesy of WordPress at bdharrellauthor.com, too. I did two entries at WordPress in relatively short order. The first was a recap of my situation. The second was more of a reflection.

Cancer, it appears, runs in the family.

My father died of a Melanoma that migrated to his brain less than six months after his 71st birthday.

My mother developed throat cancer and died at the tender age of 86.

My maternal grandfather also had throat cancer, but he died just short of his 93rd birthday.

Mom’s sister died of a massive stroke while she was under treatment for cancer – Dad’s sister had cancer and survived several years before she passed.

I pointed out that I was just 69 with aspirations of living to the ripe old age of 102, killed by a jealous lover.

Another part of the blog was about the connection of tobacco use and cancer. My parents both smoked – Mom quit when she was 40, Dad never really did quit. Mom’s sister and my maternal grandfather both used tobacco. I used tobacco myself until I was thirty-nine.

******

Aside from my forays on the web, I had other concerns. The Dog Filbrix[2], for example, was due for a trip to the vet. On the day I took her, I got a call from the people doing the MRI getting me set up for the first day in August at the ungodly hour of 6:30 in the morning. It was one of those “I have to take it” deals because of the call I got a day or two earlier setting up an appointment to see the surgeon on the seventh.

I wasn’t complaining.

To be scheduled to see a surgeon less than three weeks after the consultation telling me that there was something on my liver appeared (to me) to be rather quick. I was asymptomatic and had no idea that something was wrong, other than being told by the Oncologist that there was something wrong.

And that says a lot about early detection.

Many people wait until there’s a problem, or a number of problems before going to see a doctor and finding out that they have a bigger problem than the one they bargained for. At the time I’m writing this (Early November) I have been following the case of a friend in Ohio who was having trouble sleeping to begin with, along with several other problems at the same time. Eventually (over a period of several months) he was diagnosed with and will be undergoing treatment for Stage 3 lung cancer. His case will come up later as I blog my own experiences.

While I was waiting for the new MRI and my visit with the surgeon, I developed a set of questions to be asked at the appropriate time. I also started to look at what was happening to, or around me, with a sense of humor.

Humor is a defense mechanism I employ quite often. Humor helps to take the edge off.

In my personal library is the book Humor Works, written by John Morreall, Ph.D. (HRD Press Inc. 1997 – ISBN 0-87425-400-0), generously donated by my Mother-In-Law a few years ago. The book confirms that humor can take the edge off a tricky situation for some of us.

I am one of those people.

Being an old fart, I’m allowed.

[1] After writing this entry into my Facebook feed, I found that the current generation of people are not familiar with Superman’s nemesis, Lex Luthor. If it is of any help, perhaps I should bring up a different character. Doctor Evil, as portrayed by Mike Meyers in the Austin Powers movies.

[2] I refer to The Dog Filbrix as The Dog Filbrix because of my daughter. She became enamored of a friend’s small dog, referring to it as The Dog Aderick. She was three, maybe four at the time. Filbrix is on me. When I was a youngster at about the same age, I had a stuffed dog I named Filbrix for some unknown reason. I will have more about the dog Filbrix later on in this narrative.

Photo = My not still 4-year-old daughter and the dog Filbrix