We Have Lost Something Of Christmas

The content of this note will surprise some of you. Others, knowing me more personally, will not be shocked at all. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to share a few thoughts concerning what we have lost in regards to our observance of Christmas in the United States.

Sorry, but in saying that, I do not mean the religious aspects. One need not “keep Christ in Christmas,” in order to placate me. I say this because Christmas has absolutely nothing to do with Christ. Jesus was not born on December 25, 4 B.C. , in Bethlehem. We do not know when He was born. The Bible does not say. It does tell us that shepherds were watching their flocks outside at night. If you note the latitude and longitude of that region, you realize that they are now in meteorological winter as well. Can you imagine God allowing Mary to give birth to Immanuel in a cold, drafty barn during a winter’s night? Considering how He planned some 4,000 years of human history for that moment to arrive, one must conclude that better provision would have been made for Mary, Joseph, and Jesus, even if our Lord was meant to be born in a pastoral setting. Beyond the impracticability of an outdoor birth on December 25, is the testimony of early Christian writers. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say their silence on the matter. If this was something embraced by the followers of Christ, do you not suppose that the earliest Christians would have written something about this belief? Yet, what they emphasized was His death and resurrection as a source of hope to fallen humanity.

From whence comes Christmas, then? It is the mixture of Christian and pagan traditions. The Romans celebrated Saturnalia during December 25. It is from Saturnalia that we get such traditions as the use of mistletoe and greenery as decoration. Other cultures subdued by Roman might saw this as a time to thank the gods for giving them back the sun. (If you’ll note, beginning with the winter solstice, the days do begin to stretch longer each day.) Of the non-Roman traditions, we note a god worshiped by the Roman legions named Mithra. This Persian god was born of a virgin on December 25, and was also a god of the son. Do you see how easily misguided Christians wanting to convert pagans could use the story of Mithra, change it a bit, and offer pagans a more palatable, “Christian” alternative? Through the years, all of these traditions somewhat merged to become the Christmas with which we are more familiar.

(One positive thing that came from the association of Christ with Christmas, though, is that of giving. We are mindful of the statement made of Jesus’ teaching outside the Gospels, that, “It is more blessed to give than to receive” (Acts 20:35 NIV). People seem more charitable at this time of the year than any other. Indeed, we see such charities as “Toys For Tots” and “Operation Christmas Child” collect items to brighten a needy child’s day. We likewise see people do the majority of their giving to such organizations as “Easter Seals” and the “American Cancer Society” at Christmas. Another positive result of the association of Christ to Christmas is that of a sense of goodwill that people seem more willing to extend to others. You see more smiling faces and the person behind you in traffic is more likely to let you cut in than give you an obscene gesture.)

Of all of the traditions that developed, though, was a sense of purpose to bring family and friends closer together. The feasting and the wassailing enabled people to escape the cold grip of winter and enjoy the warmth arising from the human heart. An interesting Christmas movie is “The Lion In Winter” with Peter O’Toole and Katherine Hepburn. It is a fictionalized account of a Christmas that an aging King Henry II spent with his sons and his queen, Eleanor of Aquitaine. Since divorce was not permissible, Eleanor had been locked away in another castle. Yet, each Christmas, Henry would let Eleanor out and treat her as the queen she literally was. In the movie, Eleanor schemes with her sons to usurp Henry’s throne, but fails. In the end, though, as Eleanor is being sent back to her imprisonment we find a warm exchange between her and Henry:

Henry: I should have been a great fool… not to love you.

Eleanor: You’ll let me out for Easter?

Henry: Come the resurrection, you can strike me down again.

Eleanor: Perhaps next time I’ll do it.

Henry: And perhaps you won’t.

Eleanor: You know, I hope we never die!

Henry: So do I.

Eleanor: You think there’s any chance of it?

Despite the subterfuge and the animosity, in the end, the love one tends to feel at Christmas won out over all of Henry and Eleanor’s hatred and vitriol. One is left with the impression that, despite what today would be called “irreconcilable differences” that these two loved each other and that it was Christmas that reminded them of this lost love.

Christmas was not about showering someone with a bunch of cold, inanimate things. Yet, in the United States, when we think of Christmas, we think more of the latest technological gadgets and the fashions. We think of money and gift certificates. We have lost the sense of gathering and of belonging that was once at the heart of Christmas. Who sings the carols? Who shares hot Russian tea or spiced cider? Who opens his or her home to those who would otherwise be left alone? I realize that there are those who do these things. However, it seems missing from the national scene. The central figure of Christmas in the United States has become Santa Claus, the bringer of stuff. (Though the man upon whom this legend is based was more about giving than materialism.)

I have foreign friends with whom I regularly exchange email and chat. As one Czech friend spoke of looking forward to Christmas, he mentioned attending the market to buy warm wine, boiled corn, and sweets. Though these things would be partaken of in the open air on a cold night in Prague, he was looking forward to it as these would be the activities that he shared with his family and friends. It has been humbling and refreshing to hear of these Christmas traditions held by my new friends, some of whom not are not blessed materially as Americans. As I contemplated the coming holiday, I thought of how nice it would be to have something like my friend’s pending market experience. I would take that over an iPad or a Blackberry any day. (Perhaps it took cancer for me to realize this. In which case, even cancer becomes a greater and greater blessing to me.)

Friends, take a moment this year to regain a little something of what we have lost in our observance of Christmas. Make it more about family and friends. Talk to the aged in your life about Christmases past and hear the joy they express in receiving only stockings stuffed with candy and oranges, of receiving the one little doll, or the single football. And, by all means, make new traditions that will outlive that sweater or gps unit. Your children will look back upon such simple and loving Christmases more fondly than the latest Wii video game. More importantly, what a great legacy they will have to share with their own children. If you wish to attribute such qualities to the remembrance of Christ, then I would urge you only to make Him the reason for every season of your life and not to wait until just one time each year to pull out the greatest of what He taught to live out in your daily life. If you want a “Happy Holiday,” rather than a “Merry Christmas,” then remember why holidays originated. These are days that have been designated for a special purpose. The holiday on December 25 can be a richer and fuller one for you if you remember that it was designated to be a time of caring and sharing. Christmas may only be a week away. However, it is not too late to ensure that it is the greatest one you have ever had, made possible by the restoration of those things we seem to have forgotten.

Tags: Christmas

Eleventh and Twelfth Rounds of Chemotherapy

Well…as I failed to update everyone following the eleventh round of chemotherapy, I thought I’d combine the two in a final chemotherapy report.

 

The eleventh round of chemotherapy went well. I received my second dosages of calcium and magnesium with the half-dose of Oxaliplatin. I still experienced fatigue. However, the neuropathy in my hand was improved. Yet again, I had a new nurse. She was wonderful, just as all of nurses have been.

 

I felt good enough to accompany my parents to north Georgia for the Georgia Fiddler’s Convention in Hiawassee, Georgia. I enjoyed it, but disagreed with some of the judges’ decisions. My favorite competition was among the guitarists who were playing thumb-style. (Think Chet Atkins.)

 

My final round of chemotherapy was not unlike the first. It was somewhat apropos. If you recall, my first round of chemotherapy fell upon a hectic day. Fortunately, the day upon which round number twelve fell was not so hectic. I was just fifteen minutes late to my infusion appointment. Somehow, though, it managed to become a full day that did not end until after five o’clock, just as my first infusion day had done.  I also ended up being moved to the room in which my first chemotherapy infusion had taken place. (Remember, the suite that I had said looked like it could have been on the set of “House, MD.”) The nurses did something special for me before I left since it was my last infusion. They sang to me, presented me with a “purple heart” certificate for successfully completing my chemotherapy, and put Mardi Gras style beads around my neck. (The “purple heart” on the certificate  represents the color used to raise awareness for all the types of cancer.

 

As I write this, I am still being infused with the Fluorouracil via the portable pump. As usual, it is annoying to wear the pump, but, at least, it is killing any cancer cells that may still be lurking in my body. I do suffer some as a result of it. I have had more nausea lately as the Fluorouracil really affects my sinuses. I have had a lot of drainage in my throat and have been getting sinus headaches. These are what have been making me nauseated. I used to get sick  a lot as a kid because of my sinuses. Therefore, this brings back certain string memories from my youth. Ah…good times. *sarcasm*

 

I have noticed that the neuropathy does not feel seem to be affecting my throat as badly as it has been. Today, “Wendy’s” put ice in my drink. However, I found that I was able to drink it with a straw with no discernible discomfort. That is to say, as long as the cold liquid did not touch my lips, which are still sensitive. Oddly enough, so are my teeth. It will take up to a month for all of the side effects of the chemotherapy to subside. Yet, there is the possibility that some of the neuropathy will remain.

 

I seem to be able to walk further without getting as tied or winded. Unfortunately, much of the fatigue still remains, though. Hopefully, that will subside, too. I need to get busy getting all of this prednisone/chemotherapy weight off of me. I discovered today that my neuropathy has not completely departed from my hands. I dropped some yogurt containers in Wal-Mart and at my parents’ house, causing  the loss of one container.   I just didn’t have a good grip on it even though I thought I did. Chemo-brain also struck again. I forgot to get one of the items from my list for my dad. Oy vey.

 

I will see my oncologist on November 4. I am not sure what all that visit will entail. I know we are supposed to schedule CT scan(s). That is honestly about it. I am confident, though, that the scans will find me cancer free.

 

I still have a few mountains to climb. So, please, keep the prayers going. I do appreciate them very much. They have enabled me to do as well as I have. You have helped evoked God’s providence and grace within my life.

Fluorouracil.

Tags: Chemotherapy

Tenth Round of Chemotherapy

We can now see the proverbial ‘light at the end of the tunnel.” I only have two more rounds of chemotherapy to go. That having been said, however, I am a bit concerned about long lasting complications stemming from the use of the drug Oxaliplatin. The platinum has so damaged my nerves that Dr. Bernard thought it wise to cut the amount I am receiving in half and receive an infusion of calcium and magnesium before and after my chemotherapy. (This tacks two full hours on to an already long day.) Usually, the damage done to one’s nerves is not permanent. There are those “(un)lucky few,” though, who have permanent neuropathy from its usage. Those of you that truly know me realize how I tend to epitomize the old “Hee Haw” standard, “Gloom, Despair, and Agony On Me.” In other words, if bad luck is to be had, I am typically the one who has it. I can think of several health concerns about which I was told that only 1 in 100,000 actually contracted it (e.g. pyoderma gangrenosum) and, yet, I was that “1.” I don’t mean to sound pessimistic about this. I think I’m prejudiced by the fact that cutting the Oxaliplatin in half hasn’t produced the effect for which I was looking. Perhaps I need only patience and time. I trust that all of the many prayers going up on my behalf will eventually demonstrate this.

After the chemotherapy is completed, I will see Dr. Bernard again on November 4, 2010, to set up CT scan appointments. Hopefully, these will show me to be completely cancer free. Dr. Bernard thought it wise to schedule an appointment with the GI Surgeon, Dr. Sadiq, at this time also, as my immune system should be strong enough to enable me to have another surgery if needed. Remember, I still have about 6 inches of my colon/rectum left. Currently, it drains and adds to my difficulties. Initially, it was hoped that a resectioning of the bowel would be possible. I believe, however, that those plans were quickly abandoned when the surgeon saw the condition of my colon in May, 2010. I suppose that I could be scoped to see if the “rectal stump” (their words, not mine) was viable and capable of being resectioned. Even so, I currently weigh too much to undergo such a surgery. As things are now, there would  be insufficient length to my small intestine to go the distance needed to be resectioned within an obese person’s abdominal cavity. Thus, I would have to loose a lot of weight and any surgery would be postponed for that needed interim. To be honest, I think I would reject such measures anyway unless they could assure me that a resectioning would not lead to colon cancer again down the road. Why leave something in that will only produce more cancer and lead to further chemotherapy? Removal of the aforementioned “rectal stump” would not require such special measures and could be done almost immediately. I would require only sufficient time for incisions to heal and for healing to occur where sphincter muscle would be removed. I’ve grown accustomed to my ileostomy, with its special needs, and am bothered by it only in regards to the cost that such ileostomy supplies necessitate. Why further complicate my life? People with various ostomies live many years now and that is a better life than a shortened, cancer-ridden life.

Sometime next year, most likely in March, Dr, Hansen, my GI doctor, would like to do a scope of my small intestine to ensure that Crohn’s disease has not infiltrated the small bowel. I ask prayers even now that when such is done that I will be Crohn’s free.

As I previously stated, 2010 has been a lousy year for me in many respects. I will shed no tears at its passing and will rejoice if God grants humanity with a 2011. I suppose that a part of me will always wonder, “what if,” in regards to what may have been had 2010 unfolded differently. I reckon that is human nature. I suppose that in some alternate reality in the multiverse, I never contracted cancer and I accomplished many wonderful things. I suppose that such a possibility is best left to the debate of theologians and the adherents of quantum theory and is not worth my hypothesizing within this note. Besides, even if such were remotely possible, I could not live there as God has placed me here within this time and reality.

Thank you all for your love and support. I certainly couldn’t have made it without you. To God be all glory and praise, now and forevermore.

Tags: Chemotherapy

Ninth Round of Chemotherapy

Unfortunately, Dr. Bernard’s words have proved true. Things are getting much worse at the end.  The culmulative effect of platinum building up on my nerves has made me realize that, like it or not, I need to add the two extra hours on to my infusions to receive the calcium that may help my neuropathy. My only hope is that I will not have permanent neuropathic symptoms. I knew going into this that there could be permanent damage. I just pray that it will not adversely affect my eyes or ears, as it has the potential to cause blindness and deafness. I likewise do not wish to have to permanently forego ice and cold drinks/foods. I can live with some tingling in my extremities, even if that may not be desirable. My hands have gotten to the point that I am dropping things. Last Wednesday night, I dropped a dozen eggs walking out of Food Lion. I was trying to put the change back in my pocket and thought that the loops of the plastic bag were secure on my fingers. Obviously, it was not secured. I still can’t believe that I couldn’t tell that the bag was not secured simply by touch. I also keep dropping my medicine as the pills seem to shoot out of my fingers. (That is actually somewhat comical.) Otherwise the neuropathy hasn’t impacted my ability to grasp a pen or type on a keyboard. My feet tingle most of the time now. When I finish my chemotherapy in clinic and am attached to the pump I take home with me, I have a hard time walking initially. It is as if I must will myself to pick up my feet as I cannot really feel them too well to know what they are doing. It is like trying to walk with two wet noodles for legs. The sensation does pass within minutes but it is disconcerting to say the least. I could see my feet having some permanent neuropathic damage. I have likewise begun to develop some of the gastric symptoms about which they warned me. Lest I get too graphic, I won ‘t go into any detail about that. Suffice it to say, I may have to watch for dehydration more closely. It is only a bother because of the ileostomy. It is not totally unexpected as the Flouracil affects the mucus membranes. Your digestive system is essentially composed of mucus membranes (the surface of those tissues anyway). Thus, I am having these problems in addition to increased sinus problems. I have even had a few nosebleeds as a result of the Flouracil. All of this is accompanied by fatigue and what is euphamistically called, “chemo brain,”  in which concentration lags and you have difficulty thinking of simple things. Isn’t it strange, though, that I can still think to type a word such as euphamisitic but yet complain about diminished mental acuity? I know I still sound too verbose but my ability is currently diminished from normal. It drives me nuts. I can say “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” but cannot think of the name of the utensil in my hand. It is just odd.

I feel like refuse today. I don’t feels as if I am worth much. I don’t mean that I feel invaluable as a person but, rather, I feel invaluable as in, ” I am not being productive.” I wouldn’t have clarified that statement except that some have gotten on to me in the past when I have said it as they misunderstod that to which I referred. Needless to say, any “honey-do” list will go unfulfilled today. I really don’t have the will to do much. Even so, you can only sleep so much.

Alright…some good news. I only have three infusions of chemotherapy left. At least, this is what I am being told by the gastroenterologist and chemotherapy pharmacist. They said that 12 is the normal amount of infusions that you receive because of colon cancer. Thus, I’m still confused why my oncologist, Dr. Bernard, keeps saying that I’ll be done in Novemeber. Perhaps, he means that November is when I’ll be done with all of the scans and such that they need to do to gauge the effectiveness of the chemotherapy. I don’t know. I know I will find out, though, if God allows time to continue.

All in all, I am ready for it to be over. I found out that I had colon cancer on February 24, 2010. I had my colectomy on April 8, 2010.  I began chemotherapy on May 20, 2010. Basically, my entire 2010 has been lost. I truly thank God that He allowed me to go to PTP as I would have otherwise not done anyhting really enjoyable this year. For the last three years, I’ve gone out west each summer to visit my brother and his family. That didn’t happen because of my health. It also prevented me from travelling to Jacksonville, FL to see someone very special to me. I don’t mean to sound like “sour grapes,” though. I will just be thankful for that time when I have put all of this behind me and can say, “I’ve been cancer free now for ‘x’ years.” I can’t afford to get too “testy,” though. I will be having the remainder of my colon removed in 2011. As this will involve the removal of muscle, the recuperation time will be greater and I can expect to be sorer following surgery.

All I can do is borrow a line from “Finding Nemo,” and tweak it a little. “Just keep prayin’, just keep prayin’.” Really, that is all that we human beings can do. Everything else is out of our hands. I do know that there are many of you out there praying for me and, despite my complaining today, I do feel its positive impact. I know that if it weren’t for your thoughtfulness, life would be intolerable right now. So thank you for doing what you are able to do to help me out. God is good and I know He is listening.

Tags: Chemotherapy

Eighth Round of Chemotherapy

As my appointment was scheduled for 12 PM, yersterday made for a very long day. I didn’t get back into my chair on the infusion floor until about 10 after 12 and had to wait to have my portacath tapped, blood drawn for testing, receive my anti-emetics, and for my chemotherapy medicines to be prepared. It was 2:17 PM when I began my actual chemotherapy. As I had predicted in my Facebook status yesterday, we did not leave UNC Hospital until after 5 PM. As dad and I had not eaten anything, we had to forgo lunch and just eat dinner. We drove to Sanford instead of my usual country route so that we could run some errands. I got gasoline from Murphy’s at Walmart for $2.44 a gallon. That is the cheapest price I have found in North Carolina as we have the highest state gas tax in the region. Our dinner was at Wendy’s. Fortunately, calorieking.com lists the calories in food items from most fast food and casual dining restaurants. So, I was able to plan out my meal. I had lost about 2 more pounds. I was certainly happy about that. Only about 100 more pounds to go. At the current rate, I should reach my goal in about 100 more weeks. LOL. Of course, when the chemotherapy is completed and I am no longer suffering with the edema or taking the equivalent of 120 mg of Prednisone every two weeks and can begin walking more each day, I should be able to shave off at least a few of those weeks. *fingers crossed*

The neuropathy continues to worsen with each treatment, but I still show no signs of toxicity. The fatigue has not worsened, though, since I am taking more blood pressure medicine to better regulate my heart rate and blood pressure. I had also been told to drink my electrolye beverages again and not worry about their sodium content. However, I still have moments where I will fall asleep suddenly when I get comfortable. This usually doesn’t take place now until later in the day. When getting out of the chair at the conclusion of the chemotherapy, I’ve been having the weird sensation of my legs wanting to give out from under me. The nurse teased me that I had to get my “sea legs” back. We theorize that it is caused by a sudden rush of the fluorouracil througout my system. This is because I am getting out of the chair almost immediately after being hooked up to the pump I take home with me. It is a bit unsettling but it  goes away quickly. I also have been having more sinus problems and sinus headaches from the fluorouracil. The chemotherapy pharmacist advised me to take glutamine powder in an over the counter preparation. She said it should help even if it is really migraines instead of sinus headaches. This latter side effect has been a recent development and apparently is not usually reported as occurring with the chemotherapy I’m takling. (It figures that I would develop a rare or unheard of side effect from my chemotherapy.)

I know I have likely confused some of you concerning how many chemotharpy treatments that I have left. I am a little confused about this myself. My oncologist called the seventh round the half-way point which would lead me to conclude that I had seven more to take. But he also said that I had six more to go as well as stating that the chemotherapy would end in November. As I have chemotherapy every two weeks, things do not exactly “add up” as one would expect. To top it off, the chemotherpay pharmacist told me yesterday that colon cancer chemotherapy usally only lasts 12 rounds. She did say, though, that I was only receiving 80% strength chemotherapy treatments, that Dr. Bernard may have decided to tack on  a couple of more infusions. Thus, I think I will just say that it ends in November and should it end sooner, that will just be a treat.

In the long term, I may experience permanent neuropathic symptoms. I will also have to see the oncologist every three months until he is satisfied that I can go six months between follow-ups. After he is sastisfied with my follow-ups that will occur every six months, I will then be released for a year between visits. At some point, too, I expect to have a CT Scan to ensure that there is no evidence of cancer anywhere in my body.

Overall, so far so good. As I’ve always said, God is so good. I thank you for your continued prayers and positive thoughts. They have made my treatments much more bearable. God bless you all.

Seventh Round of Chemotherapy

This past round of chemotherapy marked the halfway point of my treatments. The oncologist, Dr. Bernard, said that I would have three more treatments and then see him again. Then, I will have another treatment on the day that I see him again, followed by two more chemotherapy infusions, ending in November. On the minus side, Dr. Bernard cautioned me that often the last three rounds of chemotherapy are the worst for colon cancer patients. (This is due to the particular chemotherapy administered to those with colon cancer.) He seemed to think I was doing well overall, though. He did, however, write me a prescription to increase my Atenolol as my blood pressure has been an issue with all of the chemotherapy-related swelling and weight gain. I’ve been taking the increased dose and seem to be doing better. On the plus side (pardon the pun), I had lost some more weight. It is a slow process. That, however, is the way the nutritionist wants it.

In regards to side effects, I have increased neuropathy. In fact, I only get three or four days of relative relief now before receiving my chemotherapy again. Dr. Bernard said that we could do something to alleviate that. He told me that I could have infusions of calcium added to my regimen to help counteract the platinum’s tendency to bind with my nerves. The only problem with this solution is that it would add two hours to the time I would have to spend “in the chair.” I would get calcium for an hour before the Oxaliplatin and after the Oxaliplatin. I don’t think that I will do this unless things get so bad that I have no respite from the neuropathy. We shall see.

Yes, I’m still fatigued and falling asleep at the most awkward times and in the most awkward positions. As I’ve said previously, when this fatigue hits, it hits. I’m also starting to notice what I’ve heard others jokingly term, “chemobrain.” Essentially, it is mental fatigue. You try to concentrate, but you have difficulty. You just don’t feel like thinking as that can also be a drain on you. I laugh at some of the things that I type now as I write because of this peculiar malady. I make grammatical errors that I normally wouldn’t make and also revert to my Southern speech-pattern roots. I think that some of you might believe that the way I express myself is “put on,” since I tend to  use multisyllabic words words when perhaps a simpler word would do. This, however, is not true. Through years of reading and writing, I have actually expanded my vocabulary to the point that I use all of these “highfalutin” words naturally. Thus, it is somewhat of a horror when I perceive myself as sounding like some slack-jawed yokel. I apologize if I you think that sounds conceited. It is just that my vocabulary is about all I have going for me. It is, therefore, that to which I tenaciously cling.

I had yet another chemotherapy nurse this past week. I believe her name is Lori. It is getting hard to keep the names of the members of my entourage straight. She seemed nice. To be honest, I didn’t really have as much interaction with her as I have had with other nurses. The treatments, for the most part, are becoming routine. Yes, they remain time consuming, but I am becoming more and more accustomed to the regimen. Isn’t it amazing what you can become used to simply from repeated exposure to it?

Well…I guess I shall end this note now. The “chemobrain” is growing stronger and I doubt it would be good for my netbook to get drool all over it. As always, I thank you for your prayers and ask that you just keep lifting them up.

Tags: Chemotherapy, Fatigue, Neuropathy

Sixth Round of Chemotherapy

My father and I arrived early enough to UNC to proceed at a slower pace and did not have to rush so as we have done practically every other visit. In fact, we were a fifteen or more minutes early to the infusion clinic. Ironically, though, it seemed as if we were required to wait longer than usual. They were certainly busy. As I’ve stated previously, though, Mondays and Thursdays are their busiest days.

Once on the infusion clinic floor, I was ushered to yet another new location. I don’t think I’ve had a treatment in the same general location on the infusion floor twice. As a result, I had yet another chemotherapy nurse to add to my growing entourage. Her name was Beth and she has a daughter who was also born on March 14, 1975. She determined, however, that her daughter was approximately seventeen hours older than me, having been born around six-thirty in the morning. I think that this little coincidence made Beth act a little more maternally towards me. I suppose that she may have thought about how lucky her daughter was to not have to be going through chemotherapy. If nothing else, it prompted her to talk with me about her daughter for a while as we waited for my chemotherapy drugs to arrive.

Positively, my weight had gone down a little bit. This is the goal towards which the nutritionist and I are working. She actually complimented me on my record keeping when she visited with me. She felt I was doing a good job. Negatively, my blood pressure was high as it had been at the last infusion. I don’t know if it is nerves or the overall weight gain. After a while of being on the clinic floor, about twenty minutes or so, they usually recheck my blood pressure and find that it has indeed dropped from its initial high reading. Still, the bottom number is in the nineties which is high considering that I take a blood pressure medication for tachycardia. When I began my chemotherapy back in May, I was probably getting numbers in the 70s and 80s on the bottom and nothing greater than the low 120s on top. I hope that this is not indicative of an underlying problem and will improve as I take off the weight. My Coumadin levels were also still therapeutic. Dr. Valgus was pleased. We had thought that there might be a bump up or down as a result of some pain medication he gave me and a new diet that includes more salad greens. I will have to likely keep getting my PT/INR level checked every two weeks, though.

I was also visited by a recent UNC graduate, Leo, while I was on the infusion clinic floor. Leo is a very nice young man. He has found me and talked with me upon each of my chemotherapy visits. He is a volunteer who will fetch you a blanket, newspaper, or snacks from the infusion floor’s “kitchen.” There are several such volunteers but Leo is proving to be the most personable one. He wants to become a doctor or surgeon. He had applied for UNC’s medical school only to be rejected because of his lack of extra-curricular activities. Apparently, UNC likes to see demonstrable proof that their potential medical graduates can interact well with other people and, thus, have the necessary and appropriate bedside manner required for their jobs. Therefore, Leo is brushing up on his ability to converse and interact with people in a clinical situation. Upon this last visit, he proved to be very knowledgeable in college football. We probably would have spoken for much longer except for the fact that they infuse you with so much fluid that frequent trips to the “necessary room” become the reality during the course of each treatment. (I must admit that it can become somewhat amusing, watching the parade of patients with their unplugged pumps repeatedly traversing the floor on the way to the bathroom.) Upon his initial arrival, Leo had informed me that he was following my advice. I couldn’t remember what my advice had been, so I asked Leo what I had suggested he do. He told me that, per my suggestion, he would be observing a surgery soon. He was having to fill out the necessary paperwork and was in the process of getting his immunizations up to date. I had told him on his first visit with me that perhaps he needed to see if he could stomach the various sights and smells that are imposed upon a doctor or surgeon before committing himself to that particular career path. I hope the best for Leo. He is still as immature as you’d expect a twenty-two year-old to be, but I have no doubt that with his positive attitude he will go far. (Maybe he will remember my friendship and advice when he is making over 6 figures a year. LOL. This is provided, of course, that the efforts to completely socialize medicine are thwarted and that Leo will not be reduced to the lowly position of future government employee.)

The process of being infused is becoming quite routine now. I am really having no difficulties with it. It is just time consuming. What has changed, though, is my reaction to each infusion. My reactions, though manageable, are becoming increasingly intense. My fingers and feet continue tingling for days after my treatment. As I dressed for church Sunday, I had to literally watch myself to ensure that I was putting the button into the button hole. I couldn’t accurately feel the button or even the button hole well enough to work it out as I have done since childhood. I know that sounds somewhat like what I had described as developing a toxicity to the medicine. It is not, though, because I can still feel something and know that the object is in my hand or between my fingers. The tingling just blocks the sensation enough to prevent me from knowing precisely what my fingers are doing. I also haven’t lost the ability to grip as a result of being unable to ascertain how much pressure I am putting into my grip.When things start falling through my hands as a result of my infusion, then we can say that I have developed a toxic reaction to the medication. Until then, though, it is just a nuisance. Fortunately, this problem also seems to improve in enough time as to give me a day or two of relief before starting over again with the administration of a new treatment.

Another “bad” reaction to the infusions that is on the increase is the impact that the chemotherapy is having on my voice. My voice tires easily. If I have to teach class, lead singing, and preach (as I have had to do on a few Sundays), then you can count on me needing the full afternoon for my voice to recover. Even then, I sound to people as if I am very tired. Then again, I am very tired. Fatigue does continue to be an issue. I’ve never felt this type of tiredness before. It hits me suddenly and without warning. If I am still, I can fall asleep in a matter of moments. I have spilled several drinks on myself as the result of falling asleep suddenly after taking a drink from my low-calorie, flavored bottled water. That is what you call a rude awakening, especially when you manage to dump the contents of your bottle in certain places that make you think you’ve reverted to early childhood. That is not too dangerous, though. No, dangerous is falling asleep with a hot blow dryer going. I’ve done that too. I know that this will sound odd, but I’ve found the hair dryer to be a handy tool in combating the tingling. By blowing hot air upon my tingling extremities, I overload my brain’s sensory input from those areas. This will make the tingling sensation seem to go away. At the least, it abates the sensation to a level that is hardly noticeable. Unfortunately, though, I’ve managed to burn myself (once) and slightly melt a few things (twice) when I have fallen asleep with the hair dryer turned on and in my hand. I can’t promise you that I will not continue to use it, though, as it is too handy of a tool in my arsenal to combat chemotherapy-related neuropathy. I will, however, endeavor to be more careful with my hair dryer. If you read in the newspaper about a bizarre fire that was started from a hair dryer, though,you may need to scan the headlines more closely to make sure that the fire didn’t occur in southeastern North Carolina. (I know that a good many of you will not have found my previous remarks humorous and may even chide me because of them. I’m sorry. My sense of humor, though, is that dark.)

I find myself now needing your prayers for more than just my physical infirmities, though. I am really discouraged and apprehensive about what the future holds. I try not to feel this way and know that God’s providence can see my family and I through everything. However, it feels right now that everything is just piling on and that the stack just grows higher and higher. In many respects, I feel overwhelmed. I don’t know what to do. Honestly, I don’t know what I can do to alleviate these feelings except to turn them over to God. I need your help, though, in reclaiming my peace and invoking His continued providence in my life. God is gracious and good. I trust that He will provide a positive resolution to all of my life’s difficulties. Thank you for your continued prayers.

Tags: Chemotherapy

Fifth Round of Chemotherapy

There was some confusion as to when my actual infusion time was this past Thursday, July 15. My father thought my appointment was at 10 AM while I thought it was at 10:30. Our arrival ended up being within the 15-minute window of a 10 AM appointment time. (Honestly, it can take up to 30 minutes to find a parking spot in the parking garage on a “bad” day. Thus, sometimes even when you have arrived in plenty of time for your appointment, you can still make it right on time or be a few minutes late upon any UNC Hospital visit.) Ultimately, it did not matter, as I had to wait over an hour in the waiting room. Apparently, the infusion clinic was extremely busy. My nurse de jour, Cheryl, later informed me that Mondays and Thursdays are especially hectic at the Cancer Hospital. For the record, my dad was probably correct about the appointment time. As he has to take the day off to accompany me, he writes the time down on his calendar. As Cape Fear was hosting their annual Vacation Bible School this past week, it was especially a needful thing for him to do. As long as my chemotherapy infusion days end up being, he was fortunate enough to be only 15 or so minutes late to VBS. The fatigue from the events of the day prevented me from going, as I had wanted. In fact, my father ended up driving me home from this chemotherapy visit. That was the first time he had to do so.

There was the usual hour delay before beginning my chemotherapy once called back on to the infusion clinic floor. (They have to do a blood test and administer the anti-nausea medication before proceeding with the chemotherapy.) This permitted the newest medical staff member in my ever-growing entourage, a nutritionist, to come and see me concerning all of the weight gain and swelling I’ve experienced from chemotherapy and a year of high-dosage Prednisone. She was nice and didn’t seem very judgmental. (I have had a bad experience with a judgmental nutritionist in the past. She was not pleasant to work with.) I had gained yet another 7 pounds since my last chemotherapy treatment two weeks ago despite not having increased my caloric intake. My appetite has actually been less since finally getting to wean off the Prednisone. The swelling is obviously coming from the chemotherapy. Thus, Dr. Bernard has put me on Lasix again. The one course treatment didn’t really seem to accomplish anything. Maybe this time, it will accomplish more. They also want me to begin wearing compression hose again. They want me to do so not for blood clots, as in the past, but to help discourage edema in my lower extremities. The nutritionist has asked me to keep a food diary and reduced my caloric intake to between 2,500 and 3,000 calories a day split into six “meals.” (I think realistically it is three meals and three wisely chosen snacks. The reason for six meal times, though, is to better accommodate my ileostomy. I’m still trying to figure out how to eat better with an ileostomy so that I do not have to get up several times during the course of the night to tend to Bil-e.) I know 3,000 calories is a lot but when you have gained as much weight as I have, you cannot realistically cut it any lower than 2,500 calories a day. If you try to “starve” yourself, you end up cheating on your diet. That would certainly be counter-productive in my situation. The nutritionist also asked me to be mindful of my sodium intake as it would be a contributor to the edema. I have already been diligent in this but have been amazed at how many items have sodium “sneakily” added to them. (For example, food processors identify sodium as “nitrates” in their luncheon meat. If you didn’t know what nitrates were, you could “blow” your daily sodium allowance just in the addition of an “innocent” ham sandwich!) I have to submit three to five food diary pages to her so that she might help me steer my proper course. Thus far, I have managed to remain within the calorie window she assigned me. I have a long way to go, though. The Prednisone and chemotherapy have done a real number on me. I imagine it will take a year or more to bring me back to the weight I enjoyed until May or June or 2009 when I had to begin taking a large dose of Prednisone for my pyoderma gangrenosum. That was the “thinnest” I think I had ever been in my adult life.

The neuropathic symptoms and fatigue continue to grow worse with each session. I push myself, but I am having a progressively harder time dealing with each round of the chemotherapy. I just have to hold on for eight more rounds of chemotherapy, though. After all, I am 5/14 the way through it all. (I’ll let one of you mathematicians come up with a more precise figure to express my current “location” than the fraction I provided.) Please pray that I don’t develop toxicity to the chemotherapy drugs so that we do not have to continue the chemotherapy beyond the end of October or the first part of November as originally scheduled. I’ve noticed the chemotherapy having an impact on my voice now, too; specifically, it is getting weaker. That is not a good thing when you have to speak publicly as I do week after week. The small congregation with which I labor has no PA system, so the projection of my voice is necessary. Those of you privileged to know me personally or who have heard me speak realize that such is not typically an issue as I’ve always had a “big mouth.” I just hope I can hold on and continue working as much as I can for the Bladen church.

(Some actually find it hard to believe that I am having difficulty with chemotherapy at all. I guess this may be because I have been faring with it so well. Those of you having chronic health problems can certainly relate to the sentiment that can sometimes be expressed which is, “But you don’t look sick.” Alternatively, perhaps the person with the same mindset will say, “He doesn’t look like anything is wrong with him at all.” I suppose that this is a “curse” in that I’ve always managed to somehow maintain a healthy looking “façade” even when dealing with much sickness and pain. These sentiments are not being expressed by members of the Bladen congregation which has been so very supportive of me at this time but by a select few within a sister congregation that provides me with a bit of financial support on a monthly basis; support that I am quite sure will be ending in the near future. I suppose these “skeptics” may begin to see the “truth” shortly, though, as I believe even now my hair is beginning to fall out in a greater volume than it had been doing so previously.)

As always, I greatly appreciate your prayers and I know that they invoke the grace of God that sustains me. I also ask that you include prayers for my father. I cannot be specific with my prayer request but our Heavenly Father knows the need to which I refer. I can say that the situation does not directly involve his health; though, the stress of the situation has certainly not been helpful to wellbeing. I just ask that you will pray to God as Jehovah Jireh, (“the Lord will provide”), in asking Him to accomplish His Will in the life of my father and mother. As my parents and I have formulated a new relationship in which our state of health has made us all mutually dependent upon one another, this prayer request likewise affects me. Again, I appreciate your prayers and thank you in advance for them. I love each of you that lift me up before God each day more than you could possibly know and pray for you in return. God bless each one of you.

Tags: Chemotherapy

Fourth Round of Chemotherapy: Second Update

Unfortunately, my neuropathic symptoms persist. Usually, by this point, they would have mostly abated. I just can’t get rid of the tingling in my hands and feet. The super-sensitivity to cold continues also. By now, I could typically touch something cold without inviting the same degree of a prickly sensation that currently bothers me. How easy it is to forget not to touch or handle that which is cooler than room temperature (or warmer)! The fatigue likewise continues. I am able to fall asleep at the proverbially drop of a hat. That is not good as I really need to keep my level of activity up so that I can retain strength and loose weight. Last night I noticed that my voice has been impacted, too (i.e., it sounds weaker). These hot and humid days aren’t helper matters any either.

I trust that these symptoms will improve before I receive my next infusion on July 15. Please just keep praying that all will continue as well as it has thus far. I know I am doing so much better than many others in my same situation. If I can just hang in there and not have any signs of toxicity, I can finish this at the end of October or the first of November.

God bless you all!

Tags: Chemotherapy

Fourth Round of Chemotherapy

I had an appointment with the oncologist, Dr. Bernard before my fourth round of chemotherapy. He thought I was progressing well. I found out that because of my history of IBD, he has only been giving me 80 percent of the dosage of chemotherapy that would normally constitute the therapy for one with a diagnosis of stage III colon cancer. He assured me, however, that this should be adequate considering that my CT scans have been good. (He decided to cut the dosage as the leucovorin attacks mucus membranes. That is what comprises the lining of your intestines. The full dosage of leucovorin could potentially create conditions that might encourage some of the symptoms of IBD to return.)

I told him that I was having periodic pains in my stomach near my belly button. He felt my stomach and confirmed that the area I mentioned was indeed firm to the touch. Yet, he was confident that it was not a tumor. He said that it most likely was scar tissue from the colectomy surgery. They had to route the end of my small intestine through that area to create my stoma and the intestine is likely either rubbing up against the scar tissue or being squeezed a little by it. Regardless which of the two scenarios he proposed as the cause, the small intestine doesn’t like it. If it is a scar tissue induced problem, it should improve with time. In the likelihood that it is a digestive issue stemming from the chemotherapy, he suggested that I take OTC Prilosec for at least the seven days following my chemotherapy infusion.

I hope that this will help curtail the pain as Dr. Bernard also said that a lack of pain might likewise keep me from the temptation of putting food in my stomach to provide relief for the discomfort. Oddly enough, snacking when I experience that pain does help, but it adds calories. I don’t need those right now, as I am experiencing much edema from the chemotherapy. I’m off Prednisone now, though, so that should help me as I try to start taking off this weight. I had put 16 pounds on since I had last seen Dr. Bernard on May 20. Yet, I was not eating any more than I had been eating previously, even with the aforementioned snacking. That, friends and loved ones, is very discouraging as more weight is certainly not what I need right now. Dr. Bernard did not rule out the possibility of a hernia. Those will develop in about 30 percent of those having an ostomy. However, he seemed most convinced it was scar tissue.

Before leaving Dr. Bernard’s office, Dr. Bernard gave me my new chemotherapy orders that will carry me through August 12. This date serves as my next appointment with Dr. Bernard as well as the halfway point of my chemotherapy. Thus, I should finish the chemotherapy at the end of October or the first part of November.

Following my appointment with Dr. Bernard, I went up to the third floor of the cancer hospital to receive my fourth round of chemotherapy. I ended up having another long day “in the chair.” For some insane reason, UNC Hospital had allowed four nurses to take their vacation at the same time this past week. This caused the infusion clinic to be understaffed. In fact, they had to shut down a couple of sections of the floor because of it. As a result, my placement was in the “worst” section of the floor that I had yet seen in the infusion clinic. There were no cubicles at all. They did have curtains that you could pull around your chair for a little bit of privacy, but these really provided you with no true sense of privacy at all, as I was soon to discover.

Everything was going well until a young lady, seated across from me, developed an allergic reaction to her first infusion. She had gotten up to leave and had made it to the elevator before noticing hives covering her arms. She returned and was soon sitting back in her chair racked with pain and experiencing nausea. As you might have guessed, the nausea induced vomiting. Despite having had the curtain drawn around her chair, it did not prevent the rest of us on the floor from likewise experiencing the sounds of her misery. The nurses frantically did what they could to relieve her suffering. Unfortunately, she had had no portacath and received her first infusion via an IV in her hand. The nurses had difficulty putting in a new IV and, therefore, were unable to provide her with swift relief. She eventually got a new IV and received Benadryl and morphine. She was finally able to sleep and get some needed relief.

As much as I felt badly for the young woman, I was a little perturbed that the clinic’s lack of staff necessitated that she receive the full attention of all the nurses in our section of the floor and that this delayed the start of my infusion for at least an hour. I did some reading to try to pass the time. I had just gotten a rather funny book on grammar, specifically punctuation, written by a British grammarian with a dry sense of humor. It is entitled, “Eats, Shoots & Leaves.” From the title, you’ll perhaps remember the “old” panda joke. You see, a panda eats shoots and leaves. Yet, when you add the comma following the word “eats,” you change the entire meaning of the sentence. Now the Panda performs three actions instead of just one. The second action now takes on a rather violent and humorous meaning. You can just imagine a mild mannered panda eating his meal in a dining establishment and then, suddenly, pulling out a pistol and shooting up the place before quickly exiting. I have certainly had more “laugh out loud moments” than I would have expected reading a book on grammar.

I slept a little more than I had done so during previous infusions and nearly missed out on getting to talk with the nice pharmacist, Chris, who oversees my chemotherapy medications. She had another young pharmacist with her that I had already met in Dr. Valgus’ office. I do not know the other young lady’s name but she is helping Dr. Valgus keep my Coumadin levels within the therapeutic range. I have reached that odd age when my doctors, many of my nurses, and other hospital staff are younger than I am. I suppose I shall eventually become acclimated to that truth. Perhaps that is not unlike Julie (not Jackie as I had previously thought) not wanting me to call her “ma’am.” After all, Julie and I are roughly the same age. She probably gets to hear “ma’am” quite a bit from the more courteous staff members with whom she works and gets tired of such. The last thing she probably wanted was a peer joining the chorus of voices reminding her of  her advancing years.

As far as side effects are concerned, as I have previously stated, each infusion brings increased neuropathic symptoms and greater fatigue. The odd pain I get when chewing has come back. It only seems to bother me when I chew certain foods, though. The tingling in my hands and feet has been slower in subsiding this time. It has even reached the point that beverages slightly cooler than room temperature are too “cold” for me to drink. The leucovorin has been doing a real number on my mucus membranes, causing postnasal drip and mild headaches. It is a good thing that the weather is warmer because Dr. Bernard said that in the cold, winter air when sinuses dry out that leucovorin would cause nosebleeds. I’ll take postnasal drip over nosebleeds every time. Mainly, now, I am very tired. Mom noticed also a trembling in my hands as I ate lunch with her today. I guess that is just another indication of how weak I am. I may have to sit to preach tomorrow but I am still able to perform most tasks. I just have to take more breaks now to do so.

In the past, the vast majority of these symptoms begin to subside within just a few days. I am supposed to drink more two to three days following my infusion to help flush the chemotherapy out of my system. I suppose it is just a matter of waiting these side effects out. I trust, though, that by God’s grace they will continue to improve as they have done in the past. Julie has been right thus far, however. Each time is getting worse. Yet, they still promise that, as I have tolerated my initial chemotherapy treatments well, it is a good indication that the remainder of my therapy will follow suit. I certainly see that I am doing better than many of my chemotherapy compatriots. All I need to do is recall how that young woman became so very sick after her first infusion to realize how blessed I truly am.  I know your prayers have assisted me throughout this ordeal and that they will continue to help sustain me. We serve an awesome God. All glory and praise goes to Him as the Great Physician.

Tags: Chemotherapy