Dave, David, Alan and Dan

I’m getting asked a lot about how I’m feeling so I better update here!

Been a rough week or 2 for People Who Happen to Have Cancer, namely spinal, liver, and pancreatic. The list, unfortunately, doesn’t stop there: my oldest cousin Dave has also been diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer while checking for blood clots. His prognosis isn’t good, and my healing energy goes out to him. I wish he was online but I haven’t heard from him since I saw him at my grandmother’s funeral in ’01. Pancreatic cancer is one of the nastiest ones, as there’s usually no symptoms while it’s growing to a point where it’s inoperable; so when people find it by looking at something else that’s wrong, it’s usually too late.

For me, it’s been 8 days since my chemo infusion and i’m just now feeling normal again. I’m really feeling that extra bag of medicine, and the cold weather isn’t helping my sensitivity, which has set in and not abating between chemo visits now. I’ve also noticed lately that my pulse rate has jumped a little, hovering between 90-100 bpm and I could really ‘feel’ it in my chest and arms, so after letting my oncologist know, I went into the clinic and got some fluids, as those are some symptoms of dehydration.  I do feel better and my palpitations have gone away. Sitting here typing, at rest my pulse rate is 74 bpm, still high IMO. Since it didn’t used to be this way, I blame the extra chemo. That 1000 ml bag makes a good scapegoat.

Christine went in yesterday to check on some issues she’s been having with not sleeping well, and based on some lab tests she went in for a CT scan of her own. Needless to say I was extremely apprehensive with hearing the results, and you can imagine my immense relief when the scan resulted in no real issues. Having my first scan back in October confirming my own cancer, I couldn’t help but fear the worst for her first scan. I talk a good game when it comes to overcoming my own stuff, but to have my primary support center be afflicted with anything would have taken my well-being down a peg or 2. I need her healthy, as I need you to be as well. Take care of yourselves, please.

So despite the recently bad news, my spirits are unable to come down. On the contrary, I grit my teeth a little more now and make sure I don’t cut corners on anything – I still walk every day that I can, take the stairs at work (5 flights, 2 times daily), get 8 hours of quality sleep per night, and generally conduct normal duties. There is no time for grief. The disciplined healing continues here; I do it for David, Alan, and Dan, and my cousin Dave.

taking care of bidness

Went to see my liver surgeon and the oncologist this afternoon and the results from the first round of chemo are just so encouraging that they decided to forgo surgery and schedule me for another round of six chemo infusions. Yay.

The thought is that i can continue shrinking these tumors to a point where my left half of my liver could be saved with minor surgery instead of going in today and taking the whole half out.  There’s a big mass right beside an artery that runs through it which could be a lot easier to deal with if it were just that much smaller.

Seeing the print outs of my recent CT scan was a lot less scary than seeing my initial state back in September and comparing the two was very encouraging to say the least. So my recent CT scan got canceled as well as my upcoming consult with my colon surgeon, because I don’t need to see him quite yet. He’s already tattooed my colon where he needs to cut in case my ‘mothership’ disappears altogether, so he’s ready to come along for the ride whenever the liver surgeon is ready.

Initially I was bummed for not going under the knife sooner rather than later, but since I continue to drink chemo like it’s slightly dirty dishwater – and get roughly the same side effects – I am not discouraged at the prospect of having six more infusions before surgery commences.

My oncologist is going to throw another bag of chemo into the mix – guess I’m just not spending enough time in the clinic – so the treatment is going to get more aggressive but I can handle it. TCB in a flash, baby.



So I will have to look forward to surgery sometime in the spring. Cancer takes its time to die, I guess. I respect that.