Getting healthy in 2016
If you haven't noticed, the Patient #1 blog ended 2015 on a whimper, and didn't exactly come out of the gates this year on fire. It's certainly not for lack of material – there is a ton going on in the cancer and melanoma worlds. Rather, time has been a more precious commodity — the holidays seem to steal quite a bit of it, the house to-do list grows longer with every project, and the cancer advocacy stuff took a bit of a backseat after the week-long romp up and down the I-95 corridor last November.
There is plenty of good news to share, and a lot of research development too. The bad news is that it might take me all month to get it all out. Let's start out with the personal stuff and then move onto the greater cancer world as February progresses.
First, scan updates. Little Man was able to accompany me to my mid-January scans; apologies to anyone who has been waiting on the results (this time, it wasn't Holy Cross who was slow in reporting). Everything came back stable – pretty much the same as the last year of scans. Since the adrenal flare up in August 2014, we've been on the same steady course. Something of decent size (3cm x 2.5cm) is still hanging out in my spleen; there's a second insignificant mass in my right lung (about 5mm in size), and a third mass in my liver that is "partially calcified hypodense", which I think means it's not a concern, as it has been on and off reports for some time but never brought up as something to worry over.
None of these areas show up on the two PET scans I have undergone since the adrenal surgery. A quick reminder, CT measures size of tumors, PET measures activity. Together, they offer the best possible picture of what things in my body shouldn't be there. A negative PET scan does not mean "no cancer" – as this article on Jimmy Carter astutely points out – but it's a good indication there is "no detectable cancer" in my body. So no medical professional will give me the coveted No Evidence of Disease label (yet), as they shouldn't… but Jen and I, and quite a few others, feel like this battle is, for the most part, over.
However, in the interests of self-preservation and advancement of medicine, the clinical trial continues. Infusion #49 happened Thursday; it has become so routine that I was able, with a quick mini-nap in the afternoon, to still coach Josie's soccer practice that evening. A good night's rest the night before is usually the start of my immune system focus during infusion week; however, with the rest of the family being under the weather, it didn't happen Wednesday night. Lots of ginger, honey, and lemon green tea made up for it, as the weekend is starting without too much fatigue.
There isn't an end to the trial in sight, although we do expect to know a little more by mid-spring. Little things continue to crop up, always erring on the side of caution. Slightly detectable red blood cells in my urine prompted a visit to the urologist for a cystoscopy. The good part was seeing my bladder on a TV screen; the downside was, well… if you don't know what a cystoscopy is, go Google (might want to avoid clicking on the Images tab, though).
A visit to the ENT led to a biopsy of inflamed tissue in the back of my throat, or, as he put it, the part of the throat that is in bottom front of the brain. That involved a clipper-like device right out of Medieval Times through the nose; think one of those toy grabber things kids get on the boardwalk or at Sea World. It's always fun to start your week with a shark-tooth device jammed down a nostril clipping and tugging on a small patch of skin near the base of your skull.
Finally, a normal physical was done by a normal internist, the first non-specialist I've seen in three years. THAT came with a prostate exam – I mean, at this point, let's just make sure we're checking all openings. I don't even want to think what the dentist might do next. The net of these numerous visits is that cancer has not spread itself or had an effect on other areas of my body in a fairly long time. I'm healthy – healthier than I have been in a long, long time.
Save for one small, non-oncologic detail. I get to schedule ANOTHER surgery – I mean, it's been over a year, my body misses general anesthesia – for two inguinal hernias (one on each side of my groin). The hernias are occasionally painful, like when chasing around a bunch of five-year-olds on a soccer field, and probably has something to do with the repeated abdominal surgeries over the last three years. The surgery should be relatively simple.
Still, when the biggest medical issue I've got is outpatient surgery to fix a normal intestinal bulge (and not some colostomy –related prolapse), and considering the rocky uphill road that was 2012-2015, it's about as fantastic an ending to have for this chapter. And as we move to the next episode sometime this year, I will do it with the kind of health many cancer patients – and, probably, a lot of 40-somethings – strive to attain. It's been a long time coming.
T.J. Sharpe shares his fight against Stage 4 Melanoma in the Patient #1 blog. Read more »
