GETTING READY FOR TREATMENT

A lot of people had an opinion about what treatment I should pursue. Some, upon learning how slim my chances are, thought I should try some unconventional approach. Many had an opinion about where or by whom I should seek treatment. My philosophy is simple. I feel that if the unconventional approaches were truly successful they would become the convention. I’ll stick with the conventional. I did not want to burden my wife with trips into NY City or anywhere too far. I believe the doctor is more important than the facility. I chose to stay near home. I did not find any world renowned, cutting edge, highly successful oncologists near Parsippany NJ. I also considered money. The doctor and the facilities had to be part of my health insurance network. There was no way I was going to fight a long battle, one that I would probably lose, and leave my wife without money. I decided to go with Dr. Roshini George, an oncologist I had met in the hospital. I liked her. I felt comfortable with her. I was putting my faith in her. By this time my symptoms were getting worse. I was extremely fatigued. I had almost no energy or stamina. I experienced frequent low grade fevers which I learned were “tumor fevers”, the body trying to fight off the tumors like fighting infection. Anytime we went to the doctor’s office or a hospital Terry had to push me in a wheel chair. She was strong in more ways than one. I really thought that death was not far off. I was and still am realistic. I know my chances are not good. But I was and still am ready to fight as hard as I can. I will take the treatment, put up with side effects and do whatever can be done. I want to live. I wanted to begin treatments as soon as possible. Dr. George felt that because I was relatively young and had no other serious health issues, I should be able to tolerate an “aggressive” chemotherapy regiment. Surgery and radiation were ruled out because of the advanced stage of the disease. The regiment included 2 days each cycle of being connected to an infusion pump that I went home with. This, as well as the fact that I would be receiving chemo for a long time, required the surgical implantation of a portacath. This is a catheter placed under the skin allowing access to a vein for IV fluids or drawing blood. Mine was to be implanted in the left side of my chest. In other words, I had to have surgery before I could begin treatment. I hate surgery. I don’t tolerate anesthesia well. This was to be a “same day surgery” procedure but my previous “same days” always resulted in an overnight stay. But I was determined to do whatever had to be done. I scheduled the surgery. When I woke up from the anesthesia I felt good, none of the side effects I had previously experienced. I was glad it was over and ready to start my therapy. WRONG. The surgeon came into the recovery room and told me he was not able to implant the port. It might have been obstructed by the lung tumor or it may have just been something about my anatomy but for whatever reason the port would not pass all the way through the vein. Now what? After discussions with the oncologist and another surgeon we decided to try again to implant a portacath, this time in the right chest wall. This surgeon saw something on my pre-op EKG that he didn’t like so he required that I see a cardiologist before surgery. More delay. I told the cardiologist that if my heart was questionable, the worst that could happen would be that I would die in surgery. However, If I didn’t get the surgery I would die from lack of treatment. I wanted the treatment so I wanted the surgery. He agreed and cleared me for surgery. After another “same day” surgery I awoke from anesthesia with a portacath implanted in my chest. It was an extremely long day. Terry was at my side the whole time, except in the O-R. Now Dr. George wanted one more thing before beginning treatment; a PET scan. This is a sophisticated, expensive scan of the body to determine where and to what extent cancer is present. She wanted a base line to determine how effective the treatments were. So once again Terry had to wheel me through the hospital corridors, a different hospital this time. Not too many places have the PET scan equipment. The PET scan procedure was interesting. The technician who was to inject me with a substance that would “light up” the cancer cells, brought that substance into the room in a lead box. Turns out the stuff is radio active. You would not clear security at an airport for several days after a PET scan. The technician said “Don’t worry about the box, it’s for our protection”. Really???? I guess I don’t need protection in view of the fact that you’re going to inject that shit into me. Whatever. I was determined to do whatever it took to fight this battle. Shoot me up!!! The PET scan showed the cancer in the esophagus, the liver and the lung as we knew. It also showed some lymph node involvement. It just keeps getting better doesn’t it. The scan allowed them to measure the tumors, both in terms of size and in how much they reacted to the radioactive injection. Now we knew exactly where I stood. I was very weak. I felt that if I was to have any chance at beating this thing I would have to start fighting soon. I wanted treatment NOW.