Round 5.1 (Cont.)
An Addendum
How Do You Know Where You Are Going When You Don't Know Where You Are At?
First off: I love the image I selected for this posting! Five plus One.
Anyway…
Since I want to be honest and transparent with everything I share, I'll start by saying that this week of treatment has probably been the most difficult one thus far. The side effects are not new or even more intense; they aren't. I think that it is the amount of time that I have been feeling out of it that has impacted me the most. It's hard to describe. My hope is secure. My resolve to fight this is unwavering. My drive and appreciation for this moment and for my situation remain unchanged.
I'm tired of being tired.
You know those times when you get so cold that you feel the coldness right down inside your bones? You can put on an extra layer of clothing, pour yourself something warm to drink, and sit by the fire, but deep down inside you still feel the coldness and the ache that comes with it.
That is how I feel, except the experience is not a physical one… it feels more like it is impacting me in the emotional plain. Cultivating any resolve to be active—to read or think or do a small, menial task—has become increasingly difficult. I don't enjoy or look forward to cooking a meal when I feel this way. I don't pick up my guitar. I just sit. This is not not fun.
And this, too, shall pass.
Anyway…
Since I want to be honest and transparent with everything I share, I'll start by saying that this week of treatment has probably been the most difficult one thus far. The side effects are not new or even more intense; they aren't. I think that it is the amount of time that I have been feeling out of it that has impacted me the most. It's hard to describe. My hope is secure. My resolve to fight this is unwavering. My drive and appreciation for this moment and for my situation remain unchanged.
I'm tired of being tired.
You know those times when you get so cold that you feel the coldness right down inside your bones? You can put on an extra layer of clothing, pour yourself something warm to drink, and sit by the fire, but deep down inside you still feel the coldness and the ache that comes with it.
That is how I feel, except the experience is not a physical one… it feels more like it is impacting me in the emotional plain. Cultivating any resolve to be active—to read or think or do a small, menial task—has become increasingly difficult. I don't enjoy or look forward to cooking a meal when I feel this way. I don't pick up my guitar. I just sit. This is not not fun.
And this, too, shall pass.
Friday: Moving Forward as Planned
Yesterday, I met with my oncologist to check in, revisit and revise the treatment plan, and just cover the basics. I have some updates to share… Most are repeats, but I thought it would be best to include them. I will summarize the details of the appointment, and then provide an outline of the expected procedures. Please understand that the information I am sharing is still in the planning stage, and will not be concrete until I hear word from the medical staff that all is a ‘go.’
Summary:
- I appear to be responding favorably to the treatment thus far. For me to be experiencing the side effects that I am indicates that my immune system is responding in accordance with the desired outcome.
- These observations are not conclusive or diagnostic; they are simply indicators for potential positive outcome.
- I was reminded that my situation is a long-haul road and a part of my life from this point forward.
- The doctor said that the likelihood of this cancer returning is 70%. There is a 15% chance it will return more aggressive and progressive.
- Ongoing maintenance treatment will be required to lessen those two percentages listed above.
Expected Treatment Outline
- On June 25, I will return to surgery for additional examination and biopsies. Per the doctor, I should not be on my feet for a week following the surgery.
- Depending upon the positive outcome of the examination and biopsies, I can expect the next two years to include the following:
- Every three months (following the above-mentioned surgery) I will have a course of treatment for three weeks which is identical to what I am receiving now.
- Every three months (in accordance with the above-mentioned treatment cycle) I will receive an invasive examination which will require two days of being off my feet.
- A yearly CT Scan. This will be indefinite, until the end of my days.
- Genetic testing has been ordered. This is currently in process. The purpose is manyfold, but the idea is basically to get a better handle on the metabolic individuality of my cancer and potential avenues for metastasis. I don't plan on going anywhere, so why not shut down the pathways for the cancer to go anywhere?
- We are awaiting results from a metabolic blood test which will measure transitory cancer cells in my body. The hope is that the number will be low or non-existent. There IS therapeutic work that can be done to lower these numbers if they are evident. I do not as of yet know what this therapy would be. The doctor did not seem aggressive on this as of yet.
- I am planning to return to work on May 29. My bosses, supervisors, and teammates have been awesome and supportive. I don't expect them to be anything other than that as I step back into active duty. I anticipate there will be a learning curve for my mind and body to readjust to the rigors of overseeing a group of teenage boys in a treatment center (add 'understatement rimshot' sound effect here).
