SWERVE

Today started with me calling and asking to have my nurse paged.  I’d been having pain in my shoulder since Saturday, and it had progressed to the point where a normal breath resulted in more pain.  Within 5 minutes my phone was ringing, but it wasn’t just the nurse, it was my oncologist who had me on speakerphone with my nurse and my scheduling coordinator.  GAWD I love this place.

My oncologist said it was probably transitory pain from my liver.  Yeah, in case I haven’t mentioned it already, I have lesions on my liver as well.  It’s not uncommon for people with liver issues to feel the pain in their shoulder, so he felt that was what was happening here.  Furthermore, my PET scan hadn’t shown anything they didn’t already know about-so there was nothing in my lungs that should be causing pain.  Awesome news.  On his advice I took some aspirin and a nap and eventually felt much better.

And there was also my appointment with Batman.  Good lord is he intense; I was afraid he was going to tell me my symptoms were wrong.  I’m ready to get my port in tomorrow and start chemo the following day but Batman says he wants to operate, this week or early next.  I knew “surgery next week” would come up at some point during the process, but I had been preparing to hear it after several weeks of chemo, or late October.  Suddenly I’m signing forms and getting pre op instructions, and I’ll admit it, one or two of my concerns were based on potentially missing the Blue Angels this weekend.

Right on cue, my oncologist called just as I was pulling out of the parking garage.  We had quite a talk about my two options.  Batman is concerned with the size of the tumor and doesn’t want it to get to the point where it obstructs anything.  I am concerned with these guys hanging out on my liver; removing the tumor in my colon gives them at least a month to do or go wherever they want.  On average, after 2 or 3 chemo doses, the tumor should at least stop growing, if not start shrinking, which should get me out of the woods for a bit.  However if the tumor does start to grow, my body would be weakened from the chemo, and not in ideal shape for surgery.

I’m going with chemo first.  My oncologist and I discussed various ways I can keep my obstruction risks low, including a low fiber diet, or at least limiting really bulky stuff for awhile.  I could maybe go liquid, and his recommendation for protein was to get the shake at the vitamin store that had the biggest, most ripped guy on the front.  Between that and the steroids from chemo I’m worried I might fall into the female bodybuilding circuit.  Gross.

Port installation tomorrow.  Buckle up.

Positively radiant

Happy Hour at SCCA!

FREE BARIUM COCKTAILS AND NO COVER FOR THE LADEEEEEEES!!!

Yesterday was my EKG, Chemo School, and the PET scan.  I wish it had all been as easy as the EKG.  The EKG involved several minutes of changing, applying little stickers to my chest arms ankles and side, attaching jumper cables to these stickers, all for a one page printout.  I thought the machine broke, but sure enough, ten seconds of monitoring was all that was needed.  Enjoy the bill for that, insurance company!

Chemo School was head spinningly informative.  It started with learning about the port I’m getting put in.  It will be embedded in one of the muscles on my chest, then a tube will run up behind my collarbone and inserted into my jugular vein then will turn down and end up near my heart.  This is where a lot of arteries end up, so it will be like dumping the medicine into the bottom of Niagara Falls rather than into one of the little tributaries that trickle along until they end up at Niagara Falls.

We went over all the different drugs and their side effects in my combination of chemo, Folfoxiri.  Side effects are pretty much diarrhea, diarrhea, and diarrhea.  I’ll also be getting a lot of drugs to counteract the side effects, including steroids to combat fatigue.  How are YOU chumps celebrating the return of Jersey Shore??  I was also given prescriptions for 13 different drugs, and I got to see the machine I’ll take home for 2 days of infusions.

Then it was off to the PET scan.  Oh, for those who read my last post, the doctor didn’t even order the catheter, but I think we’re all better for the debate thanks to Aislinn’s  informative comment.  The scan experience started with my old friend, barium.  I suppose the stuff isn’t THAT bad, but it’s nothing anyone in their right mind would choose to drink.  I had an hour to suck a bottle and a half of that down, then a nurse came in and injected me with the sugar water, which is actually more radioactive than I may have let on.  For the next hour, I wasn’t allowed to move, couldn’t walk around, couldn’t even read.  So I took a lovely nap.

THEN came the PET scan.  45 minutes of lying completely still in a small tube, with my arms above my head.  I’m not normally claustrophobic so I turned down the tranquilizer, but next time I’m going for it.  With about ten minutes to go, this one teeny little spot on my head seemingly found the one part that wasn’t covered by something soft, and man did it start hurting.  The PET scan takes several images and layers them on top of each other, so I kept telling myself I couldn’t move, so I wouldn’t “spread the cancer around”, or really just make anything look bigger than it was.  Right when I was at the point where I was probably going to yell UNCLE and ask to be let out just to fix that hard part, I heard the voice of an angel telling me I was done.  Afterwards I was monitored for any allergic reactions and given my first meal of the day: a tiny container of grape juice and a stick of string cheese.  I decided I don’t want to be friends with anyone who doesn’t eat string cheese the stringy way.

I got a little certificate stating I was radioactive for 12 hours following the scan in case I was going to fly anywhere.  Good grief, all I could do after a day like that was go home and sleep more.

I’m booked!

I got my itinerary today.  13 pages of appointments someone else scheduled for me.  I want to make out with you, SCCA.

This Friday I have an EKG, Chemo School, and a PET scan scheduled.  I find the PET scan rather fascinating.  Cancer loves sugar, so I’m going to be injected with hummingbird water, then they will scan my body over a couple of hours to look for excitement.  Whatever lights up could potentially be cancer.  I hope my scan is super boring.

Monday I meet BATMAN.  He could decide to do surgery first, but it’s doubtful, so I probably won’t see him again until October.

Tuesday I will get my port put in.  This will give the nurses easy access for blood draws and chemo hookup, thus saving my veins in case I take up heroin later.  I can have a light meal 6 hours prior, which is defined as toast and clear liquids, or “non-human milk”.   Sounds like their other patients sure know how to party.

And Wednesday is the big day: chemo!  Since I’m a special case (due to connections, not condition mind you), my coordinator wasn’t able to get me in earlier than 2:30.  And we’re not blasting me with chemo, it’ll be a slow infusion.  So for this first appointment, I won’t check out until 9:30 at night.  I’ll get a doggie bag of chemo to take home and will continue the infusion over the next two days.  I go back in on Friday at 7 PM to be disconnected, then I repeat in 11 days.  Fear not, I have earlier appointments for the rest of this round, and will get out just in time for rush hour.

I have been turning down your generous offers for a couple of weeks now, but soon I will be begging for chemo dates from anyone who wants to come hang out in a hospital for several hours and watch me get poisoned slowly all day.

And finally, this week’s frontrunner for best butt joke is “It’s not a tumor, it’s a butt plug!”  -Ann M.  Previous week’s winner is in response to hearing that the tumor was tattooed during my colonoscopy, so it would show up on future scans as a known issue.  Sonja Rafterford, please take a bow for “That’s like… the ULTIMATE tramp stamp”.  And Dana is responsible for a mantra worthy of this blog’s title: “Cancer will rue the day it landed in your butt”.  If I’m going to have cancer, at least it’s one with endless opportunities for one liners.