If you weren't aware, NBC's The Office (of which Cheryl and I are ginormous fans) has started a promotion where you can run and be part of your own branch of Dunder Mifflin.
Suffice it to say, the Michael Scott in me made me go to www.DunderMifflinInfinity.com and become the branch manager of the Tacoma, WA branch (home of the largest wooden geodesic dome and finest in wood pulp processing odors in the world). Now, all I need is 15 employees...
My staff here at WSU can attest that I am a kind and benevolent boss/despot (I have a pink sash that says "Overlord" around here somewhere that I wear to amuse/intimidate my minions), so if working for me and making thousands of Schrutebucks appeals to you, head on over to www.DunderMifflinInfinity.com, signup for a myNBC account (like you don't already have a bajillion of those already) and apply for employment at the Tacoma, WA branch using this code:
ambdqexuna
With your help, we can become the largest mid-size paper product supplier to the entire Pacific Northwest. And cure rabies.
Dave Meddish
Regional Manager, Dunder Mifflin, Tacoma, WA
Friday, September 28, 2007
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Details about Interleukin-2 (IL-2) Treatment
Good morning, all!
Sorry I haven't added a post in the last few days. I just haven't had anything else to add.
After talking with the nurse at Providence Medical Center, and reading through a packet of information she sent me, I think the next week is going to be very, um, interesting, if nothing else.
I check in to the hospital at 7:30 a.m. They will take Dave and me to my very own private room on Floor 5K (the oncology floor) where we settle in, and I then get a central intravenous line into my upper chest or neck to allow for ease of getting my doses. After all that, I will get my first dose around 3:00 p.m. Monday afternoon. I then get doses every 8 hours through 11 p.m. Friday night up to 14 doses. Because of side effects, the majority of people have to skip at least one dose, with an average of 11-12 doses taken. I'll then be released some time on Saturday morning, depending upon whether I continue to have any side effects.
Oh, the side effects. Oh boy. Nausea and diarrhea. Itchy skin and flushing. And Capillary Leak Syndrome. Sometimes the Interleukin-2 (IL-2) will result in blood leaking from capillaries into adjacent tissues, resulting in low blood pressure. Oh Boy.
The nice thing about Providence, is that I can get up and move around between doses. There is a kitchen with snacks and drinks. I'm only hooked up to the intravenous line for the dose (20-30 min), and then I'm cut loose. Of course, I may not feel up to much of anything. The nurse told me to expect a feeling of general malaise, or, as she put it, general blech. I can't leave Floor 5K after I start the IL-2 treatment, as if my blood pressure suddenly drops, they don't want to have to pick me up off the sidewalk outside after I faint. Additionally, they have to take vital signs every 2 hours around the clock. So I won't be feeling well, which will be compounded by the fact that I won't be getting ANY good sleep. Bah. But that's what you have to do to get well from the Evil Melanoma!
Dave has a choice. He can either (a) sleep on a cot in my room nightly, (b) pay for a motel room, or (c) go stay with a friend. All three options have their pros and cons. The nice thing about staying at the hospital is that he will be close, very close, and its free! On the other hand, cots are uncomfortable, he'll have to eat hospital cafeteria food or leave for meals, and the vitals-check-every-two-hours may result in a lack of sleep. Staying at a motel room would allow for a place to get away for a bit, but we'd have to pay for a week of it! If he stays with friends, he'll be a bit farther away from the hospital, but will have meal options and have a place to get away from the stress of the hospital. I have a feeling he will use a mix of both (a) and (c). We shall see.
The documentation sent to us from the hospital brought a little more clarity on how the IL-2 treatment schedule works. We start with one week in the hospital, 2 weeks off, one week in the hospital, then a month off. After 1 month, I will go through a PET scan to determine whether there was any change in my tumors (no growth or a decrease in size). We are rooting for either at this point, but a decrease is the best result! My doctor will then decide whether to do another cycle or not, for up to 6 cycles. During our consultation visit, I'm pretty sure he said that even if there is no obvious change after the 1st cycle, we'd do it again, as sometimes change doesn't show up until a couple of cycles. We'll see. While I tried to stay focused during the consultation visit, Dr. Crocenzi has a quiet, monotonous voice, and at times I'll admit that I zoned out. Oh lordy -- shades of sleeping through college classes!
They try to make the oncology floor as informal as possible. I can bring my own jammies, and a favorite pillow. They have wireless internet, so the laptop is coming with me (!), and a cell phone is allowed. When I'm feeling up to it, I'll try to blog every day to keep you all updated. I won't know my room number until we get there. You can either email me, phone me, or ask at the front desk for my room number if you visit. There are no set visiting hours, so you can come whenever you want. I'd love to hear or see from many of you.
OK. I'd better get to work. I'm currently sitting in a coffee shop in Pullman getting ready to get some thesis work done. Dave has a medical procedure requiring general anaesthesia this morning. I dropped him off at 7:00 am at the hospital, and then took off for the coffee shop. Hey! Just because I didn't stay around the hospital waiting room for 3 hours sitting on pins and needles does not mean I don't care! Those chairs are uncomfortable! They don't have wireless internet! Its sooo long! Besides, isn't that what cell phones are really for?? That way you don't have to wait around? That's what I think, anyway... ;)
Cheryl
Sorry I haven't added a post in the last few days. I just haven't had anything else to add.
After talking with the nurse at Providence Medical Center, and reading through a packet of information she sent me, I think the next week is going to be very, um, interesting, if nothing else.
I check in to the hospital at 7:30 a.m. They will take Dave and me to my very own private room on Floor 5K (the oncology floor) where we settle in, and I then get a central intravenous line into my upper chest or neck to allow for ease of getting my doses. After all that, I will get my first dose around 3:00 p.m. Monday afternoon. I then get doses every 8 hours through 11 p.m. Friday night up to 14 doses. Because of side effects, the majority of people have to skip at least one dose, with an average of 11-12 doses taken. I'll then be released some time on Saturday morning, depending upon whether I continue to have any side effects.
Oh, the side effects. Oh boy. Nausea and diarrhea. Itchy skin and flushing. And Capillary Leak Syndrome. Sometimes the Interleukin-2 (IL-2) will result in blood leaking from capillaries into adjacent tissues, resulting in low blood pressure. Oh Boy.
The nice thing about Providence, is that I can get up and move around between doses. There is a kitchen with snacks and drinks. I'm only hooked up to the intravenous line for the dose (20-30 min), and then I'm cut loose. Of course, I may not feel up to much of anything. The nurse told me to expect a feeling of general malaise, or, as she put it, general blech. I can't leave Floor 5K after I start the IL-2 treatment, as if my blood pressure suddenly drops, they don't want to have to pick me up off the sidewalk outside after I faint. Additionally, they have to take vital signs every 2 hours around the clock. So I won't be feeling well, which will be compounded by the fact that I won't be getting ANY good sleep. Bah. But that's what you have to do to get well from the Evil Melanoma!
Dave has a choice. He can either (a) sleep on a cot in my room nightly, (b) pay for a motel room, or (c) go stay with a friend. All three options have their pros and cons. The nice thing about staying at the hospital is that he will be close, very close, and its free! On the other hand, cots are uncomfortable, he'll have to eat hospital cafeteria food or leave for meals, and the vitals-check-every-two-hours may result in a lack of sleep. Staying at a motel room would allow for a place to get away for a bit, but we'd have to pay for a week of it! If he stays with friends, he'll be a bit farther away from the hospital, but will have meal options and have a place to get away from the stress of the hospital. I have a feeling he will use a mix of both (a) and (c). We shall see.
The documentation sent to us from the hospital brought a little more clarity on how the IL-2 treatment schedule works. We start with one week in the hospital, 2 weeks off, one week in the hospital, then a month off. After 1 month, I will go through a PET scan to determine whether there was any change in my tumors (no growth or a decrease in size). We are rooting for either at this point, but a decrease is the best result! My doctor will then decide whether to do another cycle or not, for up to 6 cycles. During our consultation visit, I'm pretty sure he said that even if there is no obvious change after the 1st cycle, we'd do it again, as sometimes change doesn't show up until a couple of cycles. We'll see. While I tried to stay focused during the consultation visit, Dr. Crocenzi has a quiet, monotonous voice, and at times I'll admit that I zoned out. Oh lordy -- shades of sleeping through college classes!
They try to make the oncology floor as informal as possible. I can bring my own jammies, and a favorite pillow. They have wireless internet, so the laptop is coming with me (!), and a cell phone is allowed. When I'm feeling up to it, I'll try to blog every day to keep you all updated. I won't know my room number until we get there. You can either email me, phone me, or ask at the front desk for my room number if you visit. There are no set visiting hours, so you can come whenever you want. I'd love to hear or see from many of you.
OK. I'd better get to work. I'm currently sitting in a coffee shop in Pullman getting ready to get some thesis work done. Dave has a medical procedure requiring general anaesthesia this morning. I dropped him off at 7:00 am at the hospital, and then took off for the coffee shop. Hey! Just because I didn't stay around the hospital waiting room for 3 hours sitting on pins and needles does not mean I don't care! Those chairs are uncomfortable! They don't have wireless internet! Its sooo long! Besides, isn't that what cell phones are really for?? That way you don't have to wait around? That's what I think, anyway... ;)
Cheryl
Monday, September 24, 2007
Whoops! Change of Plan!
Well, I got a call from Portland today and...
I start treatment this Monday, October 1, and will be at Providence until Saturday, October 6. Visiting hours are 24/7, so come whenever you want to the hospital to visit. I may not be feeling all that well, but will certainly appreciate the visit.
I won't know my room number until I arrive on Monday. I'll have my laptop, so you can email me for the room number.
Cheryl
I start treatment this Monday, October 1, and will be at Providence until Saturday, October 6. Visiting hours are 24/7, so come whenever you want to the hospital to visit. I may not be feeling all that well, but will certainly appreciate the visit.
I won't know my room number until I arrive on Monday. I'll have my laptop, so you can email me for the room number.
Cheryl
Friday, September 21, 2007
Poked and Proded
I want to start this post by thanking everyone for the great words and support I've gotten from so many family and friends over the past couple of weeks. Others have mentioned, and I'm finding, that the structure and extent of a physical and emotional support network makes this journey through cancer a hell of a lot easier to bear.
Yesterday I had the Pulmonary Function Test. The respiratory therapist conducting the test kept me in stitches! Cracked me up! But Hooray! I'm within the normal range of fat 35-year-old females. Today I get blood drawn, and on Tuesday I get on the treadmill for a stress test. All these tests are to make sure my system is in good enough shape to tolerate the Interleukin-2 treatment. No pneumonia for me, thank you very much.
After swinging by the doctor's office for the blood tests, I'll go buy some fresh fish for dinner, stop by the grocery store for coffee, and head home to do some laundry. Oh, boy, our life is very exciting. Tomorrow is house cleaning, quality husband time, and pedicure day. Even with cancer, life certainly moves on!
Cheryl
Yesterday I had the Pulmonary Function Test. The respiratory therapist conducting the test kept me in stitches! Cracked me up! But Hooray! I'm within the normal range of fat 35-year-old females. Today I get blood drawn, and on Tuesday I get on the treadmill for a stress test. All these tests are to make sure my system is in good enough shape to tolerate the Interleukin-2 treatment. No pneumonia for me, thank you very much.
After swinging by the doctor's office for the blood tests, I'll go buy some fresh fish for dinner, stop by the grocery store for coffee, and head home to do some laundry. Oh, boy, our life is very exciting. Tomorrow is house cleaning, quality husband time, and pedicure day. Even with cancer, life certainly moves on!
Cheryl
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
We Have a Plan. All Hail THE PLAN
Hi Everyone!
What a busy couple of days! We left Moscow on Monday afternoon, and arrived at my parents in Albany that night. We hung out with Mom and Dad, talked football, and settled in for a nice sleep. Since the plan for the day was to spend the afternoon dealing with some nasty issues, we did the only thing we both thought was appropriate in the morning: Go to the Zoo!
Lions, and tigers, and bears, oh, my! And howler monkeys, and elephants, and bald eagles, and poison dart frogs, and sturgeon, and, oh, gosh, a whole heck of a lot more! Oh boy. That was fun. We got there a little late (11:00), and had to leave by 1:15 to get to the doctor's office across town. We didn't get to see the lions or penguins. Bah.
The meeting with Dr. Crocenzi was good. Not much new information regarding melanoma (yes, melanoma bad; melanoma very bad; most people eventually succumb; melanoma bad---yeah, yeah, yeah, been there, done that). He spent 1/2 hour going over every possible treatment option, down to the smallest detail of each, then discussed with us what our goals were and what we wanted to do. One of the things I've noticed about doctors: they like to put ALL the cards on the table, describing each and every one without giving you a judgment on each, let you make a valiant effort to pick the right one, then backtrack and tell you which one you should have picked, even though you don't have the knowledge to make the best pick. Grr. Just Tell Us What To Do!
After I sniffled for a bit (he did get me kleenex), with Dr. Crocenzi we chose to start the Interleuken-2 treatment.
What a busy couple of days! We left Moscow on Monday afternoon, and arrived at my parents in Albany that night. We hung out with Mom and Dad, talked football, and settled in for a nice sleep. Since the plan for the day was to spend the afternoon dealing with some nasty issues, we did the only thing we both thought was appropriate in the morning: Go to the Zoo!
Lions, and tigers, and bears, oh, my! And howler monkeys, and elephants, and bald eagles, and poison dart frogs, and sturgeon, and, oh, gosh, a whole heck of a lot more! Oh boy. That was fun. We got there a little late (11:00), and had to leave by 1:15 to get to the doctor's office across town. We didn't get to see the lions or penguins. Bah.
The meeting with Dr. Crocenzi was good. Not much new information regarding melanoma (yes, melanoma bad; melanoma very bad; most people eventually succumb; melanoma bad---yeah, yeah, yeah, been there, done that). He spent 1/2 hour going over every possible treatment option, down to the smallest detail of each, then discussed with us what our goals were and what we wanted to do. One of the things I've noticed about doctors: they like to put ALL the cards on the table, describing each and every one without giving you a judgment on each, let you make a valiant effort to pick the right one, then backtrack and tell you which one you should have picked, even though you don't have the knowledge to make the best pick. Grr. Just Tell Us What To Do!
After I sniffled for a bit (he did get me kleenex), with Dr. Crocenzi we chose to start the Interleuken-2 treatment.
I will be starting a treatment regimen starting in early- to mid-October, likely October 7, at Providence Medical Center in Portland.
Interleuken-2 treatment is currently the best treatment available for Stage 4 metastatic melanoma. 15% of all patients respond either by zero-growth in tumors or a reduction in growth. 1/2 of that 15% have reduction to the point that the tumors disappear. That is the best statistics you can find for a melanoma treatment. Yes, forget statistics. They suck.
I won't go into too much detail, but basically it supercharges the body's immune system, hopefully inciting leukocytes to attack cancer cells. Of course, it may also attack other cells in the body as well, resulting in some fun side effects! There are some dangerous side effects, such as low blood pressure and organ failure, but these are extremely rare. These side effects are the reason for a required hospital stay during treatment.
The fun I will likely go through could include a rash, itchy skin, fever, nausea, diarrhea, and extreme water weight gain. My doctor said it is not unusual for a weight gain of up to 10-15 pounds! Of Water! PER TREATMENT SERIES! There goes my grand master plan of losing some weight in time to wear a bikini next summer!
The treatment can only be done during a week-long hospital stay (oh, boy!). I will be in the hospital for one week, getting interleuken-2 treatments 3 times each day, then I can go home for 2 weeks. I then go back to the hospital for another week of treatment, then I can go home for a month. The treatments (14 in all) are paired this way, resulting in a treatment regimen extending over the next year. During the month off, I will get a PET scan to determine whether my cancer is responding to treatment. The side effects are tied to the treatment, and should disappear within 1-3 days after the end of each treatment cycle. Yippee.
I go in this week for a pulmonary function test, a treadmill stress test, and bloodwork. Luckily, all could be scheduled in Moscow/Pullman/Lewiston, so I could go home for the time being until my treatment starts. The cats are happy to see us, though my tomato plant, I think, is giving up the ghost.
That's all for now. Think good thoughts, and if any of you in the Portland area get bored the week of October 7, come on over and see me. I might need entertaining. Beyond just Dave (sorry honey!).
Cheryl
Friday, September 14, 2007
A dose of reality about Cancer
I was doing some basic research on cancer, and came across some great words of wisdom from the American Cancer Society's Cancer Survivors Network. This is from the web page of a person who has been going through treatment for metastatic malignant melanoma, and it gave me some hope and made what is to come less scary. I'm finding that much of advice from these survivors of cancer really help me feel like my life is not over, no matter how nebulous the future seems.
1. If you are an engineer, take your engineering hat off and toss it. They can give you odds of success that you should ignore, unless it is zero. Most of the odds of success in these cases are based on the general population. There are many factors such as age and general health that can impact your odds considerably, but are not figured in, because they just do not have enough data. Just knowing it is possible to beat it should be enough to encourage you to do everything possible to be in the survivor camp.
2. Stay positive. Make sure you are sleeping well at night, and if not, learn to meditate so you can. I have not had any problem sleeping at night since I was diagnosed. You need to be well rested to beat this. Your body will do a lot, but it needs help from you.
3. Work out in your mind why you want to beat this, and use it for motivation.
4. Prayers do work. The more people you can get praying for you the better.
I'm not particularly religious, but I do believe in spirituality. Good thoughts and prayers are more than welcome.
Cheryl
1. If you are an engineer, take your engineering hat off and toss it. They can give you odds of success that you should ignore, unless it is zero. Most of the odds of success in these cases are based on the general population. There are many factors such as age and general health that can impact your odds considerably, but are not figured in, because they just do not have enough data. Just knowing it is possible to beat it should be enough to encourage you to do everything possible to be in the survivor camp.
2. Stay positive. Make sure you are sleeping well at night, and if not, learn to meditate so you can. I have not had any problem sleeping at night since I was diagnosed. You need to be well rested to beat this. Your body will do a lot, but it needs help from you.
3. Work out in your mind why you want to beat this, and use it for motivation.
4. Prayers do work. The more people you can get praying for you the better.
I'm not particularly religious, but I do believe in spirituality. Good thoughts and prayers are more than welcome.
Cheryl
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Because pugs is funny
I freely admit, I am not a dog person. However, Cheryl has her heart dead set on a pug, and even though they are drooly, snarfly and shed like fiends...gosh darn it, they're funny. They exist to make you laugh. So at one point in the future we'll get a pug to fit into our already strange household.
That's why this made the two of us chuckle like fiends. And, I must admit, Governor Fattpants is an awesome name for a pug: Dog Breeders Issue Massive Recall of '07 Pugs.
That's why this made the two of us chuckle like fiends. And, I must admit, Governor Fattpants is an awesome name for a pug: Dog Breeders Issue Massive Recall of '07 Pugs.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
And we're off to Portland!!!
Hi All!
Cheryl here, with the latest news. Since Dave wrote the first entry, I'm taking control of this one. I finally heard from the Oregon Clinic (http://www.oregonclinic.com/) late yesterday afternoon, and now have an appointment with Dr. Todd Crocenzi on Tuesday, September 18. This will be a consultation visit, and hopefully with the doctor we can plan a course of action.
Let me just say: having a plan, planning to plan, or even the hint that we could soon create a treatment regime makes both Dave and I feel a whole heck of a lot better. The worst part of the past month has been the feeling of helplessness brought on by a whole lot of waiting. I want to get on this as soon as possible! I'm young (relatively!), healthy (relatively!), and am hoping for an aggressive treatment plan, as right now I can take just about anything. I guess we'll see after next week.
On a (more) personal note, I think both Dave and I have done a pretty good job of moving forward after the diagnosis. There have been both good and bad days, but we're both committed to beating this thing and doing whatever we need to do. Currently, its very easy to put cancer aside in my brain, especially with cats, husband, work, and thesis taking up a good portion of my time. Additionally, I don't feel sick, for the most part. I wake up every morning between 4 and 5 am with some nausea and stomach cramps. These are symptoms of the cancerous ulcers in the lining of my lower stomach, but they only appear when I'm hungry, and go away after eating or after a healthy swig of Pepto (mmm). I have the same energy and appetite, and I'm not losing weight. Heck, I played softball on Sunday afternoon! We won both games, by the way. I had two good hits, and an additional blooper that got me to 1st base!
Both Dave and I plan to keep this blog going, both for a source of information for our vast collection of friends and family, but also for our own sanity. Writing a blog about something that is growing inside of me (and likely will not need to be potty-trained later) feels a little odd. If I wax on a little too poetically, bear with me. So long as I don't fall into archaeology techno-babble, I should be understandable! If any of the following words/phrases slip into my posts, close the window and come back later: x-ray fluorescence, National Register eligibility, chi square, projectile point morphological variability, coprolite, transect interval, paradigm shift, faunal assemblage, and on and on and on...
Well, coprolite might be acceptable! ;)
Cheryl
Cheryl here, with the latest news. Since Dave wrote the first entry, I'm taking control of this one. I finally heard from the Oregon Clinic (http://www.oregonclinic.com/) late yesterday afternoon, and now have an appointment with Dr. Todd Crocenzi on Tuesday, September 18. This will be a consultation visit, and hopefully with the doctor we can plan a course of action.
Let me just say: having a plan, planning to plan, or even the hint that we could soon create a treatment regime makes both Dave and I feel a whole heck of a lot better. The worst part of the past month has been the feeling of helplessness brought on by a whole lot of waiting. I want to get on this as soon as possible! I'm young (relatively!), healthy (relatively!), and am hoping for an aggressive treatment plan, as right now I can take just about anything. I guess we'll see after next week.
On a (more) personal note, I think both Dave and I have done a pretty good job of moving forward after the diagnosis. There have been both good and bad days, but we're both committed to beating this thing and doing whatever we need to do. Currently, its very easy to put cancer aside in my brain, especially with cats, husband, work, and thesis taking up a good portion of my time. Additionally, I don't feel sick, for the most part. I wake up every morning between 4 and 5 am with some nausea and stomach cramps. These are symptoms of the cancerous ulcers in the lining of my lower stomach, but they only appear when I'm hungry, and go away after eating or after a healthy swig of Pepto (mmm). I have the same energy and appetite, and I'm not losing weight. Heck, I played softball on Sunday afternoon! We won both games, by the way. I had two good hits, and an additional blooper that got me to 1st base!
Both Dave and I plan to keep this blog going, both for a source of information for our vast collection of friends and family, but also for our own sanity. Writing a blog about something that is growing inside of me (and likely will not need to be potty-trained later) feels a little odd. If I wax on a little too poetically, bear with me. So long as I don't fall into archaeology techno-babble, I should be understandable! If any of the following words/phrases slip into my posts, close the window and come back later: x-ray fluorescence, National Register eligibility, chi square, projectile point morphological variability, coprolite, transect interval, paradigm shift, faunal assemblage, and on and on and on...
Well, coprolite might be acceptable! ;)
Cheryl
Sunday, September 9, 2007
The first post in our cancerblog
Man plans, God laughs.
- Anonymous
Cheryl and I celebrated our 2nd anniversary back in August. We'd just purchase a mondo home entertainment system, so we'd agreed that that was going to be our present to each other. Nonetheless, Cheryl picked up a copy of The Best of Alec Baldwin from Saturday Night Live, since we're both fans of the sickness and wrongness that is Alec Baldwin, Funnyman. Yes, it had all the classics; Canteen Boy, Schwetty Balls, but our personal favorite was a sketch where Baldwin played a clueless soap opera actor attempting to pronounce medical terms. To wit:
"I've got bad news. We think it could be the Big C: Canker! It could be benig, it could be mal-ig-NANT. We're hoping it's benig."
I realize it doesn't quite have the same humor quotient on the written page, but trust me, it's quite chuckle-worthy.
So where am I going with this?
Three years ago, Cheryl had a nasty irregular mole removed from her right shoulder, leaving her with a nifty six-inch Franken-scar on her back. The doctors removed lymph node as well and declared her cancer-free.
A couple of months ago, Cheryl started having stomach problems, early morning nausea and cramping. Antacids didn't solve the problem. Then the suggestion was maybe a gall bladder infection. Finally, Cheryl had an endoscopy and had the ol' camera-down-the-throat to get a good look in her tummy and take some biopsy samples.
A week later, we got the news, and it wasn't good. Metastatic melanoma. And, no, it was not benig.
Yeah, that week was a lot of fun. Lots of crying and sleepless nights.
A PET scan the following week brought more bad news. The cancer had spread to her right ovary and one nebulous spot in her lower GI tract.
To say we were kind of a mess would be an understatement, especially if you started looking at stats regarding metastatic melanoma on line - you get a lot of "don't take too long to get your affairs in order." Once it gets into your innards, you see, it's all but guaranteed to come back.
Okay, that's the ugly part. Now the good news.
The cancer is presently operable, and isn't anywhere really "bad", like in the bone marrow, liver, brain, lungs, or pancreas. The scalpel jockey...I mean, the surgeon... could currently operate and remove all the cancer.
Also, Cheryl was able to find a number of cancer survivor stories online, once she gathered her courage after her last foray, which were a lot more optimistic than previous reports. They're doing some amazing stuff with melanomas these days - being as melanomas are increasing considerably these days; thank you, sun worshippers.
Last week, we saw an oncologist down in Lewiston. Because we are in a small population center, cancer specialists are few and far between, so we had to wait two and a half fracking weeks to see this guy. He recommended putting off surgery, since by the time Cheryl recovered from the cutting, odds are the cancer would be back.
There's a number of treatment options, including a melanoma vaccine (!!) which he mentioned had seemingly cured some of his patients. He recommended going to either the John Wayne Cancer Institute in Santa Monica or the Oregon Clinic in Portland, both of which have doctors doing a lot of cutting edge melanoma research. We thought Portland would be the best option in terms of proximity, and he would set up an appointment for us.
That, unfortunately, was a fracking week ago, and we have yet to hear back. As of Monday, we start calling every hour, on the hour, until we at least hear something. The American health care system has many positive aspects. This, unfortunately, is not one of them. (We are incredibly thankful, however, for having health insurance at this time).
All in all, we're pretty positive. Cheryl refuses to let this get her down, and I remain convinced that we're going to beat this thing. I refuse to accept any other outcome. We have too much stuff to do, least of all popping out introverted red-headed albinos who will eventually rule the world.
Rather than try to email everybody with updates, better minds than mine (thanks Jamie) suggested that we start a blog to keep people apprised of our progress and write down our thoughts of the day. We'll keep this updated as often as possible to let you all know how things progress.
- Dave
- Anonymous
Cheryl and I celebrated our 2nd anniversary back in August. We'd just purchase a mondo home entertainment system, so we'd agreed that that was going to be our present to each other. Nonetheless, Cheryl picked up a copy of The Best of Alec Baldwin from Saturday Night Live, since we're both fans of the sickness and wrongness that is Alec Baldwin, Funnyman. Yes, it had all the classics; Canteen Boy, Schwetty Balls, but our personal favorite was a sketch where Baldwin played a clueless soap opera actor attempting to pronounce medical terms. To wit:
"I've got bad news. We think it could be the Big C: Canker! It could be benig, it could be mal-ig-NANT. We're hoping it's benig."
I realize it doesn't quite have the same humor quotient on the written page, but trust me, it's quite chuckle-worthy.
So where am I going with this?
Three years ago, Cheryl had a nasty irregular mole removed from her right shoulder, leaving her with a nifty six-inch Franken-scar on her back. The doctors removed lymph node as well and declared her cancer-free.
A couple of months ago, Cheryl started having stomach problems, early morning nausea and cramping. Antacids didn't solve the problem. Then the suggestion was maybe a gall bladder infection. Finally, Cheryl had an endoscopy and had the ol' camera-down-the-throat to get a good look in her tummy and take some biopsy samples.
A week later, we got the news, and it wasn't good. Metastatic melanoma. And, no, it was not benig.
Yeah, that week was a lot of fun. Lots of crying and sleepless nights.
A PET scan the following week brought more bad news. The cancer had spread to her right ovary and one nebulous spot in her lower GI tract.
To say we were kind of a mess would be an understatement, especially if you started looking at stats regarding metastatic melanoma on line - you get a lot of "don't take too long to get your affairs in order." Once it gets into your innards, you see, it's all but guaranteed to come back.
Okay, that's the ugly part. Now the good news.
The cancer is presently operable, and isn't anywhere really "bad", like in the bone marrow, liver, brain, lungs, or pancreas. The scalpel jockey...I mean, the surgeon... could currently operate and remove all the cancer.
Also, Cheryl was able to find a number of cancer survivor stories online, once she gathered her courage after her last foray, which were a lot more optimistic than previous reports. They're doing some amazing stuff with melanomas these days - being as melanomas are increasing considerably these days; thank you, sun worshippers.
Last week, we saw an oncologist down in Lewiston. Because we are in a small population center, cancer specialists are few and far between, so we had to wait two and a half fracking weeks to see this guy. He recommended putting off surgery, since by the time Cheryl recovered from the cutting, odds are the cancer would be back.
There's a number of treatment options, including a melanoma vaccine (!!) which he mentioned had seemingly cured some of his patients. He recommended going to either the John Wayne Cancer Institute in Santa Monica or the Oregon Clinic in Portland, both of which have doctors doing a lot of cutting edge melanoma research. We thought Portland would be the best option in terms of proximity, and he would set up an appointment for us.
That, unfortunately, was a fracking week ago, and we have yet to hear back. As of Monday, we start calling every hour, on the hour, until we at least hear something. The American health care system has many positive aspects. This, unfortunately, is not one of them. (We are incredibly thankful, however, for having health insurance at this time).
All in all, we're pretty positive. Cheryl refuses to let this get her down, and I remain convinced that we're going to beat this thing. I refuse to accept any other outcome. We have too much stuff to do, least of all popping out introverted red-headed albinos who will eventually rule the world.
Rather than try to email everybody with updates, better minds than mine (thanks Jamie) suggested that we start a blog to keep people apprised of our progress and write down our thoughts of the day. We'll keep this updated as often as possible to let you all know how things progress.
- Dave
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