Often I wish to quit this whole treatment thing. Everything is such a grind with my family, with my work, with my own creativeness. I find myself in a perpetual "pulling myself together" mode, only to discover that at the other end everything-is-beginning-to-not-matter. What I mean is that I've lost most of my reasoning on why I should continue to fight.

I've been in this situation before, many times thinking about throwing in the towel and refusing to go-on. But this is becoming a conscience choice, which makes it an unbearable thing to actually do. Embedded within my physique is the character determined to do what it takes to protect his family, his values, et al. But this means nothing when it is done at the cost of your children's peace of mind.

Peter, where art thou?

The latest CT and MRI scans did little to impress the value in partaking the past two months in the TPX-0005 clinical trail. The chest images showed real progression in length & metabolic register. Also, the brain demonstrated swelling due to one tumor that measured larger that the previous scan (November 2019). Needless to say, January was a huge cluster-fuck of a month in terms to my health.

January 2020

Based on these results my medical team (a combo of UCI/Cedars-Sinai/Los Angeles Clinic specialists) suggested consulting with a Neurosurgeon & Pulmonologist for further opinion. As it stands, I could get the brain lesion treated with radiation to keep that in-check, however this would bump me out of the trail. Plus, the lung may need to be biopsied to check for any genetic mutations  so I have that to look forward to too. I figured something like this would happen, but not as soon. Fuck, I just barely started this drug and adjusting to a new routine.

Understandably I've become quite bitter, but not as so bad that Dexomethasone didn't help. I was prescribed this horrible steroid to keep the brain swelling at bay, and unfortunately it has altered my mood to where my kids are experiencing its full effect.

I feel like I'm at an in-pass at the moment, stuck between an on-going train of medications for longevity versus the natural unfolding of life sans-meds. Even then, there is no guarantee that this "last line" of targeted treatment will work based on the latest imaging results, so I'm fuct both ways.

I expressed to my wife the desire to be buried with some brass-knuckles in the hopes that I can use them when I meet my maker.