West Cancer Center | Ken Billett

Praise You!

April 26, 2022—Driving home from the West Cancer Center, I changed the car’s Sirius Satellite to Lithium, which is a channel dedicated to grunge and other alternative music from the 1990s. I had a pretty good morning, even for being at a cancer center. The CT scan showed no significant changes in my tumors and my lab work showed that my body continued to tolerate the immunotherapy treatment.

The song that popped up on Lithium was Praise You by Fatboy Slim—a short, upbeat tune with very few lyrics. If you’ve never seen the award-winning video, it’s essentially a low-grade recording of a flash mob performing in front of a crowded movie theater in Los Angeles.

We’ve come a long, long way together
Through the hard times and the good
I have to celebrate you,…
I have to praise you like I should

As I listened to those short and sweet lyrics, however, I was struck by their meaning related to my relationship to those of you who have followed and continue to follow my melanoma journey.

To praise means to express warm approval or admiration of someone or something. So, I want to express my warmest approval and admiration to everyone. Your love, support, kindness, and caring have meant the world to me (and to Vicki and our family). I simply can’t put words around how fortunate I have been—and will continue to be—because of all of you.

I have to praise you
I have to praise you
I have to praise you
I have to praise you like I should

In other words, Thank you.

Melanoma Treatment

Decent CT results aside, I will continue on immunotherapy (Keytruda) at least until October of this year. The protocol is for a treatment period of two years—I began Keytruda on October 1, 2020. Treatment options for late-stage melanoma are changing almost daily, so once we reach October, we’ll have to see where the journey next takes us.

Emily’s Car Accident

I’ve been reluctant to post much about Emily’s car accident, which happened at the end of October 2021. Part of that is out of respect for Emily’s privacy and part of it is that we continue to deal with the aftermath of that terrible day, which remains—for us—an almost surreal experience.

The bottom-line is that Emily has mostly fully recovered from her injuries, and she finished physical therapy earlier this month.

Thanks to those of you who continue to ask about Emily and who have offered support and encouragement. She greatly appreciates it.

Travelin’ Man

Vicki and I are back to traveling on a regular basis—although we did a bit of traveling during both 2020 and 2021. We love exploring new places, visiting old haunts, and discovering great places to eat and drink. Thanks to everyone who comments and “Likes” my travel posts on Facebook. As Bob Seger once sang:

Out to the road, out ‘neath the stars,
Feelin’ the breeze, passin’ the cars
Those are the memories that make me a wealthy soul

That said, I am working towards writing more and more travel pieces for StoryBoard Memphis and other local and regional publications. Travel is a tough market to break into, but writing about travel is something I enjoy doing. Wish me luck.

And That’s a Wrap

This will likely be the last blog post directly related to my melanoma journey. Other writing priorities, along with my advocacy work, have taken a greater amount of my time. Also, the amount of internet traffic to my new webpage has dipped significantly in the last several months. Frankly, it’s easier/simpler to post a brief health update to Facebook, which also doesn’t require as much reading or screen time for you.

As I mentioned above, more of my writing will center on travel and travel-related subjects. You will soon see updates to my Facebook writer’s page from the Travel section of my website.

Thanks, once again, for your love and support.

And as always…thanks for stopping by to listen.

Summertime (Part 1)— Livin’ Easy

Writer’s Note—This entry is the first of a three-part series entitled Summertime, based on the classic song from the musical Porgy and Bess. If you’ve never heard Ella Fitzgerald’s version of this song, you should.

Here are some of the lyrics:
One of these mornings
You gonna rise up singin’
Yes, you’ll spread your wings
And you’ll take to the sky
Mm, but ’til that morning
There is nothin’ can harm you

Summer 2021—After my last CT scan in mid-June, the summer had its share of ups and downs. While I won’t bore you with every detail, here are a few key events to help you catch-up.

Same old, same old

As I mentioned in my last post (Lucky Number 13), my former oncologist moved on from the West Cancer Center in July. My new oncologist is great, and we’ve made some changes (improvements?) in my treatment regimen. The first, and most significant, is moving me from a three week infusion schedule to a six week schedule. The goal is to reduce the number of visits and, hopefully, lessen some of the side effects.

I’ll have my first six-week infusion in August.

Frozen Frustration

I don’t believe I’ve discussed this previously, but for most of 2021 I’ve been dealing with two (2) related orthopedic conditions: a torn rotator cuff (left side) and a frozen (left) shoulder. Extensive physical therapy, analysis, and home exercise has only slightly improved these problems (which are related). Throw in constant fatigue and sore muscles, and it’s been more than a little frustrating.

Lucky Number 13

June 11, 2021— For centuries, the number thirteen (13) has been considered unlucky, which developed an irrational fear of the number and anything associated with it. Some historians trace the stigma of “13” back to Judas Iscariot—think Last Supper—the biblical betrayer of Christ. Others note the fear may be attributed to October 13, 1307 when the Knights Templar were rounded up and imprisoned—or worse.

That date fell on a Friday, leading to the Friday the 13th superstition, along with a series of really terrible horror movies in the 1980s and 90s.

Lucky Number 13

On Thursday, June 10th, the date of my 13th infusion, we received some good news—some really good news: my tumors have shrunk anywhere from 10% (in my lungs) to 20% in and around my right adrenal gland.

Vicki and I were ecstatic. Now, after almost nine (9) months of treatment, Keytruda (my immunotherapy medicine) was beginning to turn-the-tide in the battle against my metastatic melanoma.

In addition, my oncologist told us that my lab work looked fantastic. The results, in his words, were like a “normal person’s.” I assumed he meant someone not undergoing cancer treatment.

A Long Way to Go

While this is great news, we still have a long way to go. Thursday’s CT scan was the first one I’ve had since February (which showed no change), so, for now, we’ll continue immunotherapy treatments and monitor my blood work.

Bittersweet Morning

Even with all that good news, it was a bittersweet morning. My oncologist announced that he’d taken a new position—heading up a cancer center in Reno, Nevada—and would soon leave the West Cancer Center. While we’re sad to see him go, we know we’ll be in good hands with a new oncologist.

Sharing My Journey Story

In a weird coincidental twist, on Wednesday (June 9th), the West Center posted my melanoma journey story to their Facebook feed and on their website.

I received several FB comments of encouragement and support from strangers who are either West Center patients or their loved ones. As I wrote in a recent essay (see below), my goal with continuing to share my story is to provide hope and/or inspiration for others fighting cancer.

With Good Fortune Comes Greater Responsibility

So, after Thursday’s good news, my good fortune continues. I write that not with glee or contentment. I write it (repeatedly) to remind myself that there is so much more work to be done. So many goals I want to accomplish. So many people I want to help—directly and indirectly.

On June 4th, StoryBoard Memphis published my latest personal essay, Happy Birthday, Spiderman. While the initial focus of the essay was about my birthday and the joy I feel celebrating another trip around the sun with my family and friends, it was also much more about the burden I carry—like many other cancer survivors—to never forget those who were less fortunate. Here’s a quote:

Sharing my journey story is both cathartic and purposeful. Those of us who are still in this fight remember all those who were less fortunate. Our grief and frustration are channeled into meaningful causes and activities. Ultimately, we want to change current behaviors, raise awareness, and stem the tide of suffering and pain.

I use my good fortune to help others whom, like me, have been saddled with this dreadful diagnosis. An advocate for skin cancer prevention and melanoma research, I volunteer with non-profit organizations by fundraising, lending my voice through personal testimonials and op-ed columns, mentoring other late-stage melanoma patients, engaging congressional staffers on the merits of upcoming appropriation bills (to fund more research), and, finally, by analyzing research proposals as a patient member of scientific review panels.

In my own words? With good fortune comes greater responsibility.

When you get the opportunity, go back and the read my story—either on Facebook or on StoryBoard Memphis. Thanks.

And, as always, thanks 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.

I’m a Mess

April 28, 2021—The phlebotomy tech begins to poke an IV needle into a vein in my right hand. As part of the little stick portion of the process, he tries to distract me with small talk—a question about why I’m having an echo, questions about my overall health—and I give him a complete rundown of my present and past health woes. He looks at the plastic id cuff on my wrist and says, “You’re only 58.”

I laugh and tell him, yeah, I’m a mess, and my wife tells me I’m a mess, too.

I’m a Mess

I’m at Sutherland Cardiology today for an echocardiogram—there’s a minor concern about my heart function given that I’ve been on a new cancer treatment regimen (immunotherapy) for a while and that my blood pressure is higher than normal (for me). You may recall that I had a heart attack at the end of 2018 (see All I want for Christmas…).

As part of my rundown, I tell the tech that just this week I’ve been to Campbell Clinic for physical therapy, I’m here at Sutherland for my echo, and, tomorrow (Thursday), I’ll be at the West Cancer Center for my 11th infusion. I go on to explain about the last six weeks of PT for a torn rotator cuff and frozen shoulder, and my stage IV cancer diagnosis and treatment.

It’s enough to make your head spin…yeah, I’m a mess.

Delta Blues

Vicki and I took a four-day road trip into the heart of the Mississippi Delta. A great trip that I documented in two parts for StoryBoard Memphis, an online publication about arts, community, and cultural of Memphis and the MidSouth. I’m proud of these pieces (Delta Diaries) along with other articles I’ve written for StoryBoard.

I’m excited that my writing has improved and is being recognized by others. I also have a short story that will appear in an upcoming local mystery anthology. (A second story is in the works for another anthology.) My long-term goal is to get a book published, and I feel closer to achieving that goal every day.

Number Eleven

Infusion number eleven (11) was the next day (April 29th) at the West Center. While there’s nothing new to report regarding my prognosis, we were excited when the nurse practitioner told us that my lab (blood) work looked great. Liver, kidney, and other internal functions all looked really good. Couple that with how I currently feel—which is also really good—and we’re very happy.

Now, let’s hope the adrenal gland tumor shrinks. We’ll know more on June 10th.

Melanoma Awareness Month

May is Skin Cancer and Melanoma Awareness Month. As an active advocate for prevention, treatment, and, eventually, a cure, I’m involved in a number of activities, initiatives, and fund-raisers—both locally and nationally.

You’ll see a lot of Facebook posts from me about donations, support, and, of course, taking care of your skin. For obvious reasons, this issue is important to me and my family.

While donations and support are special and mean a lot to me, it’s much more important that all of you make the effort to take care of yourselves and your loved ones—especially younger ones. Excessive sun exposure and sun damage when you’re young—even one sunburn—can impact your health years down the road.

Protect your skin!

Final Thoughts

The screen shot below is from the website of Aim at Melanoma, one of the national non profit groups that I work with. You’ll see a dark blue box on the top row (almost in the middle). That’s me and that’s my sincere sentiment. I could not survive or continue on my journey without all of you!

Thanks for everything…and thanks 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.

And The Beat Goes On…

February 4, 2021 – Before I get started, I want to say a big THANK YOU to everyone for your thoughts, prayers, support, and kind words. It means the world to me—and to my family.

Today’s message is The Beat Goes On, which, you might recall, is the title of a famous song (1967!) by Sonny & Cher. (You gotta love those haircuts and the furry vests in the song’s video.)

Waiting and Wondering

As I posted on Facebook, today’s scan results showed no changes—either positive or negative—and no new or questionable tumors. So, overall, it was a good day. I’ll certainly take “stable disease” over anything negative. Frankly, I was hoping to see some significant reduction in my right adrenal gland tumor, but immunotherapy treatments can be a long and exhausting fight.

So, the beat goes on.

Round 7

Today’s visit to the West Cancer Center was long but seemed to go by quickly. A lot of waiting and wondering. It was an afternoon filled with lab work, IV insertion, contrast dye, CT scan, office consultation, and, of course, my seventh infusion of Keytruda.

According to the nurse practitioner, my lab results (blood work, etc.) looked great, so my body continues to tolerate the Keytruda. As I’ve written previously, how your body processes the medicine is almost as important as whether or not the medicine is working. And, yes, I suffer from side effects—a lot of them—but they could be worse, much worse.

So, the beat goes on.

And The Beat Goes On…

So, the beat goes on…in my melanoma journey and in the world. As our lives get back to normal—or, what passes for normal nowadays—I sincerely hope that everyone remains healthy, happy, and safe. We all need to take a deep breath, slowly let it out, and look forward to enjoying the things that really matter.

Anyway, thanks for listening, and in the immortal words of Sony Bono…La de da de de, la de da de da.

And the beat goes on, yes, the beat goes on

And the beat goes on, and the beat goes on
The beat goes on, and the beat goes on

Note: My apologies if you end up with this song stuck in your head for the rest of the day.

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.

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Praise You!