July 2015 - Mid-Term Exam Time
I haven’t posted for quite a while, since this cancer
treatment has settled in like a cross country run. It’s not a sprint, it’s a marathon. The process at times has been repetitive and
mundane, except for the part where I remind myself that I am in a process of
being poisoned enough to kill cancer cells in my bone marrow while not being
poisoned enough to kill off the rest of me!
I had a CAT scan after my fifth of eighth scheduled cycle of
drug treatments back in March 2015, and the results, as my physician said,
showed “dramatic improvement.” That was
definitely good news, and, as a fellow cancer-survivor acquaintance of mine
said, “Cancer physicians are not in the habit of using hyperbole or exaggerations;
they don’t want to give you anything but reality regarding a cancer diagnosis.”
The results were positive enough, that my physician
cancelled the eighth of my scheduled eight monthly cycles of treatments,
receiving the last full dose of drugs the last week of March.
Since then, the plan has been to let the drugs run their course,
and then in the summer, run a battery of tests to see exactly where I am at in
the recovery process, what I call my Mid-Term Exam, and tomorrow, June 15, 2015
is the big day. I’m getting a CAT scan,
a PET scan and some blood draws. No fun,
but as I often tell people, it’s for a good cause: me!
Barring some unexpected outcomes, the next phase of
treatment for me is a two-year routine of targeted drug treatments, using a
drug that strictly goes after lymphoma cells.
The treatment cycle will be one day a week for four consecutive weeks,
and then off for two months, and then another four-week cycle of treatments and
so-on.
I’ll be interested to see what the side effects of the
targeted lymphoma drugs will be without the companion chemotherapy drugs which
I’ve had flowing through me since October 2014.
The side effects so far have been miserable, but not terrible,
especially when I compare my experience to what others who have suffered much
worse under the influence of chemotherapy.
I’ve been blessed thus far, and hope I remain in God’s good
graces. 2015 is a good year to have the
disease I have.
Random thoughts:
It makes me feel empathetically sad whenever I hear about a pediatric
cancer patient, especially when I hear they are getting “aggressive” chemotherapy. I feel I’ve had “standard” chemotherapy, if
there is such a thing, and it cause for some miserable days.
My taste buds got messed up, and three months past my most
recent chemo blast I I still find some foods which should taste good to be the
opposite, or tasteless.
I’ve received a lot of compliments from friend and
co-workers, which help keep me going and staying positive. Who doesn’t like to be told “You look good.”?
Parenthetically, they may be thinking, “compared to how bad you looked some
says at the height of your treatments,” but hey, I’ll take it.
People have asked me what getting chemotherapy drugs is
like. I feel my best description is, for
me anyway, that it feels like having the flu, only without the joint pain and
the fever. The insides just feel
unsettled. I’ve had hot flashes and
chills. I’ve burped too much at both
ends of the digestive system. My energy
wanes, and it seems if I overdo it one day, I pay for it the next day. If I feel good today, I think I should feel a
little better tomorrow, charting my feelings like a linear graph. Instead, a graph of my feelings would look
more like the stock market, with inexplicable ups and downs.
So, that’s where I’m at.
I still have a wife and children who love me , I have reliable health
insurance, and I have a firm faith in Jesus Christ to sustain me. And I have friends, like you. Thanks for reading, and for your kind words.
-
Robert/Bob/Rob/Opa/Brother Tegeder/Hey You
