Samuel Oschin Comprehensive Cancer Institute
The Big Casino
Getting Chemotherapy was not fun. The Oncologist never really explained what exactly it is, other than I needed to take a shit load of Folic Acid & B 12 shots before I would start. I always thought chemotherapy was a general pill, but it’s a combination of different meds that are fed via an IV. The combo depends on the type of cancer and in my case I needed about 5 bags of them that would take around 6 hours to administer per session, every three weeks. Add in some steroids, and you have a pretty potent cocktail that should help eradicate the cancerous cells. The issue is that it will also kill healthy cells, inducing a form of cell suicide by halting growth. Add in the side effects... Holy Fuck...
I would be knocked out for 2 days straight.
The Oncologist handed me this huge binder with information and then sent me on my merry way to do my own research. You can see more of it here:
https://www.cancer.gov/publications/patient-education/chemo-and-you
And at this point I still did not know the “full-protocol” of what my overall treatment would be, nor a schedule. I felt like a Guinea Pig from the start, yet at the same time I needed to step up with blind faith, expecting that she knew what would be best for me. Besides, I was already under crap-load of other stress just trying to figure out how to get my personal situation under control in regards to financial matters, the house, mortgage, medical expenses, work, family, etc…
My whole life sped up to this point where making some serious critical decisions would not just affect me, but my young family. I also started to feel that any small action I would take would be directly affecting my family. It became hard for me to even buy a simple cup of coffee as I thought that extra dollar would go to feed my kid (“once I’m gone”), or buy her a warm coat (“once I’m gone”), or send her to college (“once I’m gone”).
A pattern of self deprecation started to develop. I felt that I was worth more dead than alive due to my Life Insurance Policy (which thank goodness I already had for a few years). And several times I wanted to just stop all treatments and dwindle away. Mentally drained, I just wanted to quit...
Cancer has that effect. It consumes your fucking spirit in ways I never thought it could. If afforded the luxury of sleep my dreams were peppered with images of me waiting at an airport, or on the tarmac… Sleep became non-existent at times and the burden on my mind/body weighed heavily as I continued pressing forward.
But then, there were some echoes of light:
October 14, 2016: Oncologist office discussing results of my 2nd PET scan received the week prior.
Onc: “The PET scan shows the lung tumor has decreased in size. About 0.3 mm”
Me: “Is that good?”
Onc: Well, after two months of Radiation Treatments & Chemo sessions it is a very small result, but a pattern we do want to see… However, your CEA tumor marker has not relatively changed. I'd like to see that lower.”
Me: “Yes, but a decrease in tumor size? I’ll fucking take that!”
Onc: “I’m going to add an additional medication called AVASTIN to your next Chemo session to shake things up. Perhaps we can get a stronger result but be warned, one side effect is subconjunctival hemorrhage.
Me: "uh, layman's terms?..."
Onc: "you may get bleeding eyes..."
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