Health Update: The Chemo/Surgery Dance (Patreon)

I haven't done a health update in a while, so second week of the new year seems like a good time to catch everyone up.

If you don't know, I have cancer. We discovered that when I was hospitalized in Feb of last year with a pulmonary embolism. You can get the details in posts over the past year marked "Pulmonary Embolism," "Health," and "My Cancer."

Now, we hammered my cancer with chemo for 8 months. Hammered it hard, even though we knew that couldn't get rid of it, just keep it in check while we waited for me to qualify for surgery.

And, as my surgeon noted, "Chemo is not benign." Turns out even the very BEST medical poison has side-effects.

So a month ago my oncologist saw my body forming more and more sores, bacterial infections setting in, bloodwork showing issues *not* caused by the cancer, and imaging suggesting my cancer was, in fact, greatly shrunk, and she took me off chemo. Not because my cancer treatment couldn't benefit from more, but because the rest of me couldn't take it anymore.

We're trying to avoid "The therapy was a success! Sadly, the patient died."

Now, a month ago I was supposed to be days away from the cancer board setting a surgery date. Mere hours, really. On a geologic scale of time, it had essentially already happened. So, surely I HAVE that surgery date now, right?

Well, not so much. Turns out even if you are an extra-extra-extra-extra-extra-extra-extra big patient, your health care doesn't get measured in geological time. (Emulates being a mountain during an earthquake.)

See, the Tumor Board -- which I STILL assume is a board made up of a shadowy cabal of sapient tumors that look like they were the understudies for the role of Kuato in the original Total Recall -- wanted to wait for the MRI that was happening the next week. So, another visit with my old pal, Frank the MRI.

During which, I franked the freak out. Freaked the frank out? I got effed up.

We had to go a second time, with me under heavier sedation, and let me call out what a kind, professional, considerate job the MRI techs did taking care of my trauma-responsing, chemo-addled, holiday-stressed brain. If I had been a panicked baby bird with the pin of a hand grenade in my beak, they could not have treated me more kindly. (Though, hopefully, they'd change policy to prevent further traumatized adolescent avian grenadiers from wondering in. ... Wow that sounds like a black & white comic from the 1990s.)

And THEN we had to go a THIRD time, because the expert readying the MRI wanted "one more view."

I blame Frank. Fuck you, Frank.

Also, love you man, see you in 3 months or so.

No, we were sure, we'd have an answer within... CHRISTMAS!

What? Oh, right, Christmas hit right then, and the tumor bard apparently had to Get Their Ass to Mars for a "Yule Be Sorry" party.

But they DID meet the day after New Year's, and had ALL the imagery they asked for, and made a decision!

...

They decided they wanted me to get a flexible sigmoidoscopy so they'd have more information. ... I didn't even know I had a Moido, 'sigged, rigid or otherwise. (
'Hallo. My name is Sig Moido. You flexed my colon. Prepare to die.")

So, anywho, THAT is scheduled for next week, and the prep beforehand will involve sitting on the stool for 24 hours pretending to to be a firehose (but not the fun way).

With THAT context, I saw my oncologist today. My bloodwork looks good despite being off the chemo, and she has talked to my surgeon, and it sure sounds like surgery within the next 4-6 weeks. So she considers me off the chemo for good, in a "yes, you can throw out the pills you have left just make sure you do so responsibly since they are deadly poison" kind of way. If I DON'T have surgery scheduled within 3 weeks, I am to call my oncologist, so she can, and I quote "pick up a phone and have a ... talk" with my surgeon.

I'm still on nonstop antibiotics, and while I've been off chemo for a month and its side effects ARE clearing up, they aren't gone, by any means. And we are having to adjust the dosage of other things designed to help me overcome the rigors of cancer, because without the chemo they might help me TOO much, and that could lead to another embolism which is, after all, how this whole thing started.

But for now, things are as good as they have been anytime in the past 11 months and I have high hopes that, while the end is not in sight, the map claims it's right around the next bend. Two bends, tops. Maybe three, but that's the worst it could be.

Or else my oncologist, sweet and supportive lady she is, will call someone.

Support
I fought cancer, recovered from a pulmonary embolism, and suffered through constant infections for most of 2023. Here I am 10 months later, and I'm still doing two doctor visits a week and constant testing and new prescriptions, and surgery is coming. JUST in time for my sizeable insurance deduction to reset for the year.

This fight takes money, bills keep mounting, and my reserves (of energy and money) have run thin. Financial support of my Patreon is a huge help in this ongoing battle. You can also donate directly to my ko-fi, if you want to help more.

There are cat pics there, too.