When I started this blog, it had two purposes: one, sort out my feelings with my newly diagnosed cancer and two, keep all of my family and friends informed in one place. During the last 3 1/2 years, I have gained more “friends” than any man could deserve. Sadly, I am using this blog post for the same original reasons that I started it back in December 2010.
I’m back to fight. What seemed like “The Little C” for so long, is now definitely “The Gargantuan C that Crushed Zullinger in 3-D”
This is hard for me to write. Not only is it emotional, but the symptoms have robbed me of proper spelling and coherent thought. What used to take me about two nights, now takes me two weeks. Inevitably, I get frustrated and stop writing.
There are about 24 posts in my draft folder.
Let’s rewind to October. I was diagnosed with a recurrence of cancer and my oncologist suggested chemo. It worked before, so we had no problem believing it would be successful again. Only this time it wouldn’t be 21 days on/7 days off, it would be 30 days straight. After 167 days (Yup, I counted!), I asked for break when I was exhausted and I was suffering from “not finding words”. For someone who loves to talk, that is one of the cruelest things about cancer.
In June, my MRI showed a new “spot” and 6 weeks later, the spot had not grown, but it was still on the scan. I was comfortable with the results, since it showed up on the previous scan, but I’m having a rougher time with the symptoms now. Swelling in my brain, temporary paralysis of my right side and speech problems have all been plaguing my body for the last few days. Steroids and rest have given me some relief.
Apparently, my body has developed a resistance to the chemo that I’ve been on since 2011, so now I need to be more aggressive with my treatment. On August 7, I will undergo surgery to place a port in my brain. Twice a month, I will travel to Hershey to receive a cocktail of 6 chemotherapy drugs: 4 in the port, 1 in the arm and 1 by mouth.
My doctor assured me that there are no symptoms like traditional chemo. I won’t lose my hair. Radiation already took care of that. People won’t see me as sick.
That’s why I’m writing.
I’m not begging for attention. I’m not being overly dramatic. I’m just updating you.
I’m having surgery on my brain for the 3rd time. This time they are leaving something behind. I’m scared and excited at the same time. I want to be well and if this port does that, I’m steadily getting behind the idea.
Even though the port will be underneath my skin and you’ll never know it’s there, I’m still a bit freaked out by idea of it. But, if this is the next step in my journey, I will take it with the same attitude I have shown the last 3 1/2 years:
Funny. Strong. Honest.
Bye for now.