Chemo Cocktails...

okay boys and girls, here's the latest and greatest from yours truly...

It's been quite busy around here, not really been able to kick back and enjoy the hiatus lately. Which by the way, I haven't been ignoring your phone calls, emails, and visits. I've been to the doc's more than I care to but alas, this is necessary when you encounter this type of adventure.

After visits to both Duke Univ. Medical Center and Wesley Long Hospital locally, I've decided to go local (not loco). The oncologists at both locations literally said the same thing re: my recommended drug treatment. However, driving 10 minutes vs. 80 minutes each way was a big factor in deciding to have my treatments here in town.

Today was a bit of a landmark, in that I finally got to meet with the cancer center folks for a Chemo Class. The idea is to learn more about chemotherapy and this wonderful blend of drugs that is my ticket back to good health. I have officially named my prescribed medications a "Chemo Cocktail", which I will imbibe once every two weeks, maybe starting next Monday. For those of you in the know, I'm on a FOLFOX regime with Avastin, which is the latest and greatest medication to compliment the Chemo Cocktails. To throw in a twist, I've been approached about participating in a clinical study for a groundbreaking cancer drug that is targeted to folks like me with colorectal cancer. The drug itself hasn't been approved by the FDA yet, hence the clinical study. Ironically, promising early results were released to the press on 3/18/2005, the day after my surgery (a day that I don't remember - if you'll recall, morphine and Mr. Brian are NOT good friends any more. Mr. Morphine made Mr. Brian VERY cranky, freaked out, and generally was not a very fun episode...) The challenge is that to be included in the clinical study, you MUST be on Avastin, which I'm scheduled for. BUT (there's always a but in here somewhere), Avastin can impede the healing process in an incision, especially one that got infected like mine. Sooooo...I won't really know exactly when I start the Cocktail Hour(s) and/or if I'll be able to participate in the clinical study. Finally, even if I do choose to participate, it's a random selection process so I might not get the drug. MAN this is complicated! My primary concern with the study (and chemo in general) is what type of side affects are going to hit me. They list everything from your hair falling out to your dog dying from eating your cat's food. Seriously, when you read all the side affects you ask "do I really need to be doing this ?!?" The obvious answer is "yes" and I'll ask for your continued prayers on God's plan for me with this issue.

As far as how long I'll be doing this, the answer is "until the cancer is gone". Right now they are telling me 3-6 months of chemo, or until I'm clear. My treatments will last 5 hours each time; once every 2 weeks. Have you ever counted the number of holes in the ceiling tiles at the dentist's office? Well, something tells me I'll have an answer for you about how many are in the ceiling at Wesley Long Cancer Center. After each treatment, they will send me home with a fabulous fanny pack filled with a pump, some more of the Chemo Cocktail, and some lovely tubing that will connect to my surgically installed port (more on that later). I'll be hooked up to this device for 46 hours (about 2 days for those of you who are slow on the math thing), at which time I go back to the Cocktail lounge and have the fine folks disconnect me. This should be about as much fun as an IRS audit, but with less pain. Re: the port, instead of popping a needle in my arm once every 2 weeks and shooting me up with chemo, I'm going to have a port surgically implanted beneath my skin, in my chest. This is scheduled for Friday at 4PM; should last about an hour and I should be able to go home after recovery IF there aren't any complications. It basically looks like a half-round rubber bulb, about the size of a quarter. From the back of the port is a catheter that will tap into one of my arteries. Just like the chemo drugs, there are possible complications with the port surgery. In the words of my surgeon, "if we hear air escaping from your lungs while we are poking around looking for an artery, we get really discouraged really fast". Okay, I guess you had to be there because I did laugh when he said this. The port will allow a relatively pain free infusion of chemo without looking like a heroin addict. They can even draw blood for lab work from the port, which makes me smile. Tapping into the veins in my arms is not very much fun in my opinion...read: "I am a pain weenie".

Right now I feel great - not including the lingering pain in my incision - so hopefully the Cocktails don't have an ill affect on me. As far as work, I should be good to go in a couple of weeks. Again, chemo will be the wild card with this decision. My company has been very supportive which takes a lot of stress away from me. The thing that is really driving me crazy is not being able to do the things that I want to do. NEVER take for granted your good health and mowing the grass, walking your dog, going grocery shopping, or even sneezing. Went 3 weeks without sneezing, and this during pollen season. I dare you to try THAT my friend. You simply do not know how precious and amazing your body is until it is robbed of performing like it was designed to. You also don't know how much you use your stomach muscles...I salute all mommies that delivered their children via C-section!

Many, many thanks to everyone who has helped our family in so many different ways. Meals, cards, words of encouragement, child care, dog care, mowing the lawn, washing my car - you name it. If anyone wants to paint my house, go right ahead. Gray with white trim, pretty basic. My wife, my kids, and my parents have done so much for me that I cannot begin to thank them enough. Fortunately, my wife hasn't killed me yet, because I have been driving her crazy! And for those of you that are afraid to give me a call, call me! You don't have to say "I'm sorry..." because there isn't anything to be sorry for. Someone asked me the other day if I was scared. My honest reply is that I'm not. God has a plan for me and I'm watching it unfold right before my eyes. If you've heard the song "Live Like You Are Dying" on the radio recently, well, that song pretty much sums up my feelings right now. But I will NOT be riding a bull named Fu Man Chu....even if is only 2.7 seconds.

Okay, enough for now. Didn't realize you were going to get your skull filled with this kind of stuff, did you? Keep those cards and letters coming...going to the mailbox is the highlight of my day. That and Oprah...oh my gosh, I've lost it...I'll keep you posted.