Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Dropped Out!

Yes, like Frenchy in Grease, I've missed my proverbial mid-terms. Time to go back to high school.

You stay in a drug trial as long as your disease doesn't progress. Well, guess what? Mine progressed a fair amount in the two weeks since I started the trial (plus the 4 prior that I was off all meds). Lesions in my lungs had grown, and my old friend, the pleural effusion, was back. The end result is that Dr. Z and I decided to pull the plug yesterday. We also drained 1.3 liters off the right lung yesterday (that's a total of 3.8 liters for all of 2013.) Today, I'm back at his office for a return to the last chemo. That was a tough one, but at least the disease showed very little progress over the time I was on the drug.

So now the short term goal is to stabilize things. And to be a good shape for A&J's B'nai Mitzvah next month. Attendees, don't worry. I've already reassigned my preferred task of lifting the Torah to a more able-bodied Congregant. Apparently, dropping a Torah isn't one of those sins you can get out of simply by waving your cancer card.

On a personal and unrelated-to-cancer note, I'm happy to say that after 40 years, Kittredge Court is once again Beskind-free. My dad's house sold on Monday - as is. Marcie and the kids did a ton of the work to get it emptied and presentable, as did my in-laws, Dara, Alexis, Vince, Kim, Scott, and Erin. Miriam had helped set up his new place a while back, and Danny made the referral to the buyer. If I've forgotten anyone, let's chock it up to chemo brain. It took a village to make this happen, and I can't tell you how much my dad and I appreciate all you villagers! You are the best!

PS - I hope to have a better excuse than "sorry, I have cancer" when it comes time to return the favor!

Thursday, September 19, 2013

One Week In

Actually, today is Day 10 in trial-speak. I received my first dose last Tuesday, my final dose of week 1 on Monday, so now we're on Day 10. The trial itself remains uneventful. I've felt more fatigue than I had been, and that's probably attributable to the trial drug. Otherwise, I haven't had any of the things they appear to be looking out for - fevers, nausea, funky colors in my phlegm, etc. I'll start dosing again next Tuesday.

Dr Z. saw me yesterday and thinks I'm looking better - which is not exactly scientific proof that the drug is working, but it's better than him saying I looked like crap after the first week. My lungs sound clear to him as well. Despite that, I do still have a cough. It's not a productive one, just one of those coughs that happens when you open your mouth to speak and the words aren't ready to come out yet. My words have stage fright, so they send a little cough out first to make sure it's OK.

This is not to say that all is rosy in my world. The 4 weeks off of treatment between my last chemo and my first trial appears to have given the cancer a little breathing room (pun intended) and it has begun to explore around my chest. The result is some pain when I have the aforementioned coughs, along with any sneezes, belches, and even the where-the-hell-did-that-come-from gasps that occasionally surprise me and anyone within earshot. The good news is the pain isn't constant - it's just a quick stab then it's gone.

The bad news is it's pain. Pain is what I fear most about this journey. I can handle nausea, diarrhea, fatigue, sleeplessness. night sweats, etc. In fact I have handled all of those, sometimes in combination. There are meds to ward off the pain, and I'm not trying to be a hero by avoiding them. But there is a balance between diving into a narcotic haze and being 100% alert at all times. I'm still working full time, and I owe it to my employer and myself to function as close to capacity as I can. I also prefer to be alert during family time, for obvious reasons.

So I try to limit my pain med intake to something less than the max dosage allowed on the bottle. Maybe one every 8 hours instead of 4-6. Sure, there are days when I might be watching the clock creep ever so slowly toward the 4 hour mark, but thankfully those days are rare.

We're hoping the new drug will start to have some effect on the cancer cells relatively soon, and some of these painful spots will go back to being unheard from. Until then, the pharmacy remains open...


Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Live from Drug Trial Central!

Algernon. That's the only well-known lab rat I can think of. Well, Algernon and now, me.

They treat me better than the typical lab rat. While I was required to be here from 6a to 6p today, I was allowed to leave during the two hour windows between blood draws. Speaking of which, there were 6 times today, each requiring between two and five vials of red and white cell cocktails. They say that's less than half of what you would give when you donate blood.

I've also had two sets of EKG's done, 7 hours apart.

My friend David stopped by this morning. Our conversations haven't changed much after 35 years. Insert "wife" for "girlfriend" and "kids" for "cars" and it's pretty much the same thing, only without an Atari controller in our hands to keep us busy between quips. He and Danny have been my most frequent companions during these long days at the Doc's office, and I really do appreciate the company. I guess my hair's not grown back as much as I thought because nobody here at the Northside office asked if we were brothers.

So here's the plan. Tomorrow I come back for more blood work around 6:30a, and I'll have to hang around for an hour or so after dosing. I continue to take the medicine daily for a total of 7 days. Then I come back next Tuesday for a bit. The whole cycle repeats in week 3, and somewhere in there I'll have CT Scans to start determining if this new drug is working for me.

Day one was uneventful, which is exactly what I was hoping for. All the other patients are gone now, and in another 90 minutes, I will be too.