In this past week, I met with Dr. Yasar - my Medical Oncologist. It is kinda surreal to think that when I say, "my Oncologist", that means that I have cancer.
This is a very real concept to grasp. At a bare minimum, I will be fighting this thing for a while. This is a battle to the death - one of us is going to die in the end. I will be surrounded by people that will be there to help me in this fight, They will hand me weapons and give me battle strategies, but, in the end, I have to fight this by myself.
My family and friends of faith are saying, "The Lord will be with you through this entire fight." I believe He will. I believe that this is all a part of His plan for me. But, we never know His plan.
I sat down with Dr. Yasar, where we discussed what will happen first, what will the treatment look like, and what is the long term prognosis.
Squamous Cell Carcinoma (SCC) responds very well to radiation, so the treatment will be Targeted Radiation therapy. She explained that I will be given a chemo port in my chest where I will receive three rounds of chemo, spaced 21 days apart. At the same time, I will receive radiation therapy every day for 90 days.
She explained that the chemo cocktail I will receive is designed to enhance the effects of the radiation. It is not the same cocktail as the one given for chemo only patients. I may not lose my hair, which is the least of my concerns.
She said, "Let's talk about expectations." "Agreed", I said, "Under one condition - that you tell it to me straight and don't sugar cote anything." She agreed.
She asked what I expect to happen after treatment. "I expect to be back to 100%, completely cancer free." I replied sarcastically. "That's not going to happen" She said. So, we talked realistically.
She feels confident that they can kill and eradicate most, if not all, of the cancer. I wasn't expecting that. That sounds like a win to me. Then she said, but.
Is that not one of the most dreaded words in the English language? "Oh, you are such a wonderful guy, but..." "You have been a tremendous asset to the company, but..." I can't remember a single time when something good followed, but.
My nerves have been damaged, and most likely won't heal in my lifetime. Worst, she hasn't seen this much nerve damage in a single patient. It is not looking good. It will take a miracle. Your prayers will be needed.
Still trying to understand this whole process...
Dr. Yasar handles the chemo side of this treatment, while at the same time, another Oncologist - Dr. Lee handles the radiation side of it. I will meet Dr. Lee tomorrow.
Next week will be a busy one. I meet with Dr. Lee at 8am Monday. Then at 10:15am I will have the chemo port inserted. Tuesday afternoon I will have a PET scan. Hopefully, by the end of the week, I will begin treatment.
Now, we are caught up to real time. Watch for new posts as things develop. Thank you in advance for all of your thoughts and prayers.
A "Blogspot" weblog?
ReplyDeleteHow CONVENIENT for me. You may tire of my comments.
I'll be 74 in a few days.
We subscribe to the newspaper here in our "Winter home" of Gilbert, AZ. I opened the newspaper and separated the wheat from the chaff this morning. One of the sections I glance at is the obits...
There are a few people there dead at age 65 or so.
So at 74, I'm "pushing the envelope".
My Dad was dead at 82, but a heavy smoker all his life. My Mom... dead at 88, but morbidly obese much of hers. My expectancy? Who knows?
But I WILL die. And I have lived a life many would only dream of. Lesser men (and women) than you and I have made this journey. I have little fear of death.
My friend, you have made the world a better place. If you step out in front of a Kenworth truck tomorrow and are turned into a Frisbee I will remember you as someone who was likely prepared to meet his maker, who also made my life more comfortable. I will smile having known you.
And I hope you outlive me.
You write well. I look forward to reading about your journey. And with your attitude combined with medical advances we experience almost every day, I pray your outcome will be a good one.
Geographically separated, we miss you. But with this trouble in your life maybe your move away from us was a blessing. You have access to GREAT health care there.
We look forward to updates and a positive outcome.