December 3, 2020 – My oncologist walked into the examination room and, as he sat down, proclaimed, “Well…we have some pretty good news.”
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| Yes, I’m smiling. |
The good news? Today’s CT scan showed that one of the tumors in my lungs had a 30 to 40 percent reduction. The other key lung tumor remained just about the same, and the tumor/blood mass around my right adrenal gland stayed pretty much the same. Yes, pretty good news indeed.
A Systematic Boost
Immunotherapy medicines, such as Keytruda, are meant to boost the body’s natural immune system in order to fight cancer–melanoma, in my case. These medicines, however, can have some serious side effects. My blood work showed that I am tolerating this new drug fairly well. That is another bit of good news!
Another Round on Me
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A grumpy old man.
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Today was also my fourth round of treatment (infusion). The immunotherapy infusion process is fairly quick and easy. As I stated in Science, Real Science, the preparation process takes longer than the infusion. Today, however, the West Cancer Center was on-the-ball, so we were in and out in less than four hours.
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly
While my lab work showed good tolerance of Keytruda, my body’s response has been all over the place. I have really good days – lots of energy with little pain – and I have some really bad days when I’m unable to do much without a lot of effort. Fortunately, I’ve only had a couple of “ugly” episodes. My hope is that those episodes are few and far between.
I’ll trade the fatigue, lethargy, minor pain, and everything else if it means my cancer is under-control.
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| On wings of hope. |
New Year…New Hope?
Finally, 2020 has been a helluva year – to say the least. My hope is that everything gets better, or back to ‘normal’ or something. It’s got to be better than what we have right now.
I hope you have a wonderful holiday season and a Happy New Year. I plan to. And I plan to celebrate many more New Years to come.
Thanks, as always, for listening.
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Also, please make sure you leave your name or sign-in somewhere in your comment. Thanks.
Writer’s Note – I’ll continue to update my blog on a periodic basis. No set schedule. So, I want to thank everyone who continues to stop by and check out my blog. Please leave a comment or message; I’d love to hear from you.
October 23, 2020 – This afternoon, I completed my second round (infusion) of Keytruda (pembrolizumab) at West Cancer Center’s main campus. Keytruda, as I’ve explained previously, is an immunotherapy medicine – meaning it boosts the body’s natural immune defenses in order to fight cancer.
My new treatment regimen is based on science, real science. Not conspiracy theories, not voodoo doctors who believe in alien DNA, not off-the-cuff comments about drinking bleach to kill a virus. Real science.
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Up the steps to the
unknown.
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Immunotherapy treatments are relatively new. Keytruda was FDA-approved in 2014 and by 2017 was in use for solid metastatic tumors, like melanoma. The U.S. approval and testing process is long and somewhat complex. Clinical trials can take years to complete.
Giving Back
I volunteer my time by working on scientific review panels that evaluate research proposals for possible funding grants. I’ve been a part of this process for a couple of years now, and it is a tremendous honor to be a “consumer advocate” and share my impressions (and concerns) with cancer doctors and researchers. This is one of the many ways I give back to the melanoma (skin cancer) community.
I want to ensure that melanoma prevention and treatment moves forward towards a potential cure and the funding of this research remains apolitical. Scientists need to be able to do their work – without threats and without undue influence.
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| A long day.
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Infusion Blues
Although the Keytruda infusion typically lasts only thirty minutes, my October 23rd visit was over three hours. Blood work, IV insertion, oncologist visit, scheduling (and re-scheduling), waiting on lab results, pharmacy prep work, a flu shot – all took place before my infusion.
Sitting in the third-floor infusion area was both odd and sad. Memories of waiting in this area while Emily received her chemotherapy treatments brought a flood of emotions. I’ve been a stage IV cancer patient for a long time, but I’ve never had intravenous treatment. The infusion area is a dull, sterile environment. It’s sad watching folks from all walks of life undergoing treatment. We have one thing in common–however–we all have cancer.
At the same time, watching other patients hooked up to IV machines and monitors reminded me that we’re fortunate to have researchers, scientists, technicians, nurses and doctors working hard to find new and better treatment options and, maybe one day, a cure.
Real research. Real progress. Not just talking points during a political campaign.
Real science.
Thanks, as always, for listening.
Note: If you want to leave a comment, just choose “Anonymous” from the Profile Selection drop down bar right below the Comment box. (It’s the very last choice.) Sorry for any confusion.
Also, please make sure you leave your name or sign-in somewhere in your comment. Thanks.
Writer’s Note – I’ll continue to update my blog on a periodic basis. No set schedule. So, I want to thank everyone who continues to stop by and check out my blog. Please leave a comment or message; I’d love to hear from you.
September 5, 2020 – Much of our August was spent at the West Cancer Center: blood tests, CT scans, an ultrasound, another CT scan, and, finally, a wonderful needle biopsy. Throw in a couple visits with my oncologist, further lab tests, along with a PET scan, and August was a month I’d like to do without.
Why all the visits? You may recall from my last health update on July 6th (Doctor, Doctor…) that – since early June – my doctors were monitoring a blood mass in and around my right adrenal gland.
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September 3rd sunset: a reminder
to enjoy the beautiful things
life has to offer.
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Here’s an excerpt:
Now For Something Completely Different
There was, however, something completely unexpected on the scan results. A fairly large mass – about 2 1/2 inches – on or around my right adrenal gland. The adrenal gland sits on top of each kidney. The radiology oncologist called it a heterogeneous mainly low density mass. Basically, it looks like I had some internal bleeding either in or around my adrenal gland.
Testing, testing…1, 2, 3…testing…
On August 7th I had an ultrasound to determine if there was any tissue with the blood mass surrounding my adrenal gland. The ultrasound did show tiny tissue fragments, so I immediately underwent a needle biopsy utilizing CT scan technology.
A needle biopsy is exactly what it sounds like. An area of skin is deadened and a (somewhat) long needle inserted into your body at the spot to be biopsied. Unfortunately, you remain awake during the entire procedure. It’s painful and weird – the only way to describe it.
Note: The biopsied tissue samples were sent off for detailed genetic evaluation (biomarkers).
A little over a week later, on August 18, 2020, I had a PET scan. Doctors use a PET scan to determine if any cancer – metastatic melanoma, in my case – has spread to other parts of your body, including your lymph nodes.
PET scans utilize a radioactive tracer that is injected into your bloodstream. To be effective, your body must be completely at rest for an hour or more.
Glowing in the Dark
Here’s a brief description of what a PET scan is like:
I shuffled into a cold room with a hard terrazzo floor. In the room’s middle sits a large scanning machine. Plastic. Metal. Intimidating. At this point, I was exhausted. Ready to go home. I hadn’t eaten in over 8 hours, and I’d had no caffeine today. None! It was almost three in the afternoon.
Plus, I had just spent the past hour sitting in a small dark room doing nothing. Nothing. Just sitting, trying to relax, while radioactive isotopes coursed through my body…I think I slept for 15 or 20 minutes while in that little room.
After being strapped down to the hard plastic “bed” of the scanner, I was inserted into the metal and plastic donut hole several times. Many people refer to CT and PET scanners as donut fillers. Another 25 minutes went by before we finished.
Now the hard part
The waiting game began a few weeks ago and will be over soon. At that point, we’ll know the biomarker testing results and the results of my PET scan. Then we’ll know the next direction in my journey.
Thanks, as always, for listening.
Note: If you want to leave a comment, just choose “Anonymous” from the Profile Selection drop down bar right below the Comment box. (It’s the very last choice.) Sorry for any confusion.
Also, please make sure you leave your name or sign-in somewhere in your comment. Thanks.
Writer’s Note – I’ll continue to update my blog on a periodic basis. No set schedule. So, I want to thank everyone who continues to stop by and check out my blog. Please leave a comment or message; I’d love to hear from you.
