Well, we had an interesting day at Sanford on Tuesday of last week (and I’m just now getting around to finishing up the post…) It all started off with an early morning appointment with the Good Doctor Bleeker, where he did a quick once-over on me and asked about any issues that had come up since our last visit. Not much was new; my mouth is still a bit sore, not only from the surgeries and the missing teeth, but the other lower front teeth are still giving me trouble (double-portions of it a few nights since then; waking me up in the wee hours…) and, oh and by the way, there’s this weird rash that showed up about a week earlier.
The thing with the teeth wasn’t a big surprise to him, and didn’t seem to be much of a concern either. He surmises (as do I) that the issues I’ve been having with the teeth are caused by the tumor that remains in my lower jaw. The tumor is a very indistinct entity — it was only identifiable in the PET scan, but it is definitely occupying some space in the lower jaw — and as it grows it is moving things around, ever so slightly. It seems to be subject to external changes as well; changes in weather have caused increased pain levels, as did flying. Changes in altitude bring about pressure changes. The tumor is essentially replacing bone tissue as it grows, and the difference in density between the two materials is what causes the problems and the pain. Or at least that’s what the theory is.
The good news is that the upcoming therapy plan should eliminate the cancer that is creating the tumor that is replacing the bone in my jaw. But the bad news is that when the tumor is gone, there’s no guarantee that the bone will come back on its own. So I might be losing more teeth before it’s all said & done. And when it’s all said & done, I’ll have to go through some reconstruction to get my teeth and jawbone back. But first things first; let’s get rid of this sucky cancer.
Dr. Bleeker laid out the game plan for eradicating the cancer during that visit; the primary treatment will consist of chemotherapy, administered in three infusions separated by three weeks. My first infusion will happen tomorrow (April 24, 2013), and should wrap up six weeks from tomorrow. At that point we’ll reassess, and hit it with radiation therapy if it’s needed.
The chemo consists of the standard R-CHOP cocktail (click the link for details; this is getting too long already.) The doc says that the treatment has an excellent success rate with my type of cancer — over 90 percent fully cured — and that my general state of health, the chemo shouldn’t hit me so hard that it will keep me away from work too much, which is all very encouraging. What rattles me just a bit is that ~10 percent, and the fact that the doc had never seen this kind of cancer show up in this particular place and only in this particular place.
For now though, I’m operating on the positive, that 90 percent, and the desire to kick this thing’s butt. There are a lot of slightly selfish reasons behind that — wanting to spend more years with Yvonne, to see any grandkids that might materialize, etc… I’d also like to think I might be missed by some, and I hate to let people down.
Dave!
Having beaten you to having cancer (of any sort), I’ll feel free to pass on some things I learned the hard way.
Rule #1 – Stop all internet research on your disease. Most of what you will read is not helpful as every patient and their situation is unique. Continued reading will not help you either in fighting back or maintaining a positive attitude. With a 90% cure rate, go forward with that and live.
Rule # 2 – When you get discouraged (as may happen), refer back to # 1
Know that you are loved…need I remind you who’s child you are? I didn’t think so… 🙂
Rick
A little research on the right sites can’t hurt; I haven’t done much, and usually stick to http://www.cancer.gov/ , http://www.lymphoma.org/ , http://www.mayoclinic.com/ and http://www.sanfordhealth.org/ . I sure hope the info found on those sites is accurate. 😀 Anything negative is just the latent pessimist in me trying to make itself known.
Thanks for the reminders though. Today was a big day, and not feeling so great tonight.
Yeah – chemo sucks. I don’t know if you were paying a whole lot of attention to how dragged out I looked on the Sundays I was home from Mayo, but September and October were bad – on the other hand, I was getting chemo *and* radiation simultaneously.
It isn’t that the information is wrong, per se, it is more that there is quite a bit of information that can make the early stages of finding out what you’ve got – what stage, how far along, etc. – a bit more traumatic than is helpful. Finding out that I was stage 3? No big deal. Finding out that, left untreated, I was looking at around six months – and that treated, I had a 60% chance of reaching the “cured” state of five years cancer-free? That was a bit more bothersome 🙂 Reading how esophageal cancer was one of the top ten killers in the country with a really poor prognosis regardless of where you might be treated? *That* little tidbit wasn’t very encouraging.
I might still have one of the books that helped a great deal sitting back in Sioux Falls – and if I get back there early next week, I’ll run it over to you. Lots of good to great information.