Preventing the growth of blood vessels that feed a tumor

Of all the conversations I've heard connecting what we eat to the prevention and treatment of cancer, this one from Dr. William Li, of the Angiogenesis Foundation, which points to stopping the growth of blood vessels that feed cancer, seems pretty compelling.

Thanks Maria!

Click on the image below to watch the TED Talk.

In the Clear or Perhaps Not So Clear

On Monday June 25th I had a post-treatment scan and the results were NEGATIVE! No sign of cancer, so no more treatment and the next scan is in three months.

I am greatly relieved. The day of the good news I was moved to tears, I was so overjoyed. And a couple of days later I was actually feeling depressed at the idea of returning to "normal" life. And a day after that, being the recipient of a good coaching session, I was back to feeling as normal as one might expect to feel. It became clear to me that without being clear about the direction I am headed, the mind will wander and create its own version. And the mind left to it's own devices, is not always a good thing. Considering all the concerns I have, it helps to now have some pretty clear direction. So now I am back to figuring out how to be a single father, how to manage my disappointment about being one, as well as how to deal with what I can't control when my boy's not with me. So it's back to that and all the other day to day things there are to manage.

After the good news, the friend that joined me for the trip celebrated with me by taking me to a ballgame at Yankee Stadium. It felt good to be in a stadium (relatively) full of people excited and joyful. I can use as much of that as there is to go around.

Treatment Regimen Complete

Today is Wednesday June 6th and I'm about to begin my last scheduled chemotherapy infusion, #12 of 12. As always they will send me home with a battery operated pump continuously pumping 5-FU into my veins until Friday morning at which point the pump will be disconnected and the nurses will invite me to ring the bell, a final treatment ritual here at the Cayuga Medical Center.

It's nice to be looking at the possibility of no more chemotherapy after Friday. And needless to say, it has been a grueling seven months. While writing this entry, I've tried multiple times to express the pain I've experienced going through the unexpected and badly navigated ending of a marriage. And each time I deleted what I wrote and have instead left you to imagine it. It has not made this experience easier, that's for sure.


Well, I never finished this entry and it's now Friday and the pump stopped at noon today. Treatment #12 of 12 is complete. I was with three friends when it stopped. It was a great feeling to turn it off and announce my seven month chemo regimen is now COMPLETE.

So many thoughts going through my mind. Scan in NY on June 25th. Should it be negative no more chemo and another scan three months later in September. If it comes up negative I will begin treatment for the treatment, detoxifying my body from the chemo; not an easy process but very important. Chemo can cause cancer. I want it out if my system. It's done it's job. Fresh carrot & green juices, liver supplements, etc.

In the meantime, it's no more chemo until at least until June 25th and I feel greatly relieved.

Neuropathy

Within the last week, the neuropathy [numbness & tingling] in my hands and feet has intensified. It is strong in my fingertips and goes up my forearms. It's also strong on the soles of my feet. I walked to the Ithaca Festival this evening and I was having a hell of a time because how the neuropathy had my feet feeling so weird while I walked. It seems it's going to gets worse before it gets better.

My doc recommended 100 mg of Vitamin B-6 2x day, so that's what I've been taking. I sure hope it helps. This is a weird symptom and a little disconcerting as well.

A Change in Perspective

Has it really been a month since my last blog entry??? Wow! The boy and I just moved into our new place on Tuesday. Thank you to everyone who helped make this happen for us. Now that I think about it, this is what has kept me from posting anything. Diligently looking for a place in between chemo treatments then traveling to NYC less then a week before we moved. I have been incredibly busy.

Fortunately, I was able to receive a liver pump treatment on Wednesday May 9th, so my next systemic  chemo treatment is this Wednesday May 23rd. Even though Dr. Kemeny reduced my Oxaliplatin by 25% last time, the neuropathy in my hands and feet has continued, so the Oxaliplatin has been completely removed from my systemic treatments. I will now only receive 5-FU. When I asked how much nausea I should expect to experience, I was told there would likely be none. It ain't a walk in the park, but without it, the sickness is a hell of a lot easier to tolerate.

Following my meeting with Dr. Kemeny on the 9th, the nurse practitioner came in and explained how I will have a scan in June following my final treatment. At that point I told her that when the scan comes back negative, I would like the liver pump removed. She kind of smirked and then told me the reason they recommend keeping it in is because they have to clip the line to remove it. And once the line has been clipped, a clot forms and the pump can never be inserted into the artery again. "Okayyyyy," I said. "There goes that idea.."

Once my treatment was complete, my friend and I walked back to the car. As we walked, I looked at him and said, "Man, if I knew I could never have the liver pump again once it's removed, maybe I would have waited for if things got really bad." He gave me a look as if I had just spoken to him in a language he was completely unfamiliar with, combined with utter amazement that I was able to speak it. I half returned the look to him then realized what I had just said. "...maybe I should have waited until things got real bad." I immediately started laughing and said, "Keep it for two years? Perhaps not. Maybe I'll keep it for five. Or ten. Or maybe just leave it in for good!"

The minor downside to leaving it in is the saline refill required every six to eight weeks, possible adjustments to that schedule should I travel to a higher or lower elevation (because elevation changes effect the rate at which it pumps), and the possibility of infection since the pump is a foreign object. The rate at which it pumps is also effected by body temperature, so I am expected to avoid long hot baths. Come winter time, a hot soak in the tub is a must. I missed out this year, but this coming year I expect to take hot baths and have the saline refills scheduled accordingly. Perhaps if I agree to one 45 minute bath a week, they can adjust the solution accordingly. The longer they want it to last, the thicker the solution they prescribe.

So, I have two more systemic treatments and then I start treating myself for the treatment. Or to put it another way, it will be time to begin the process of detoxifying the chemotherapy from my body.

#9

I began my ninth systemic infusion today. As I got situated, I noticed a guy a few years younger than me receiving an infusion. I looked at him, started laughing, and told him I was supposed to be the youngest guy there and he was messing up my scene. We both started laughing.  It's just so strange seeing someone close to my age dealing with cancer. Sadly, we all know there are plenty of people of all ages managing a cancer diagnosis. It's just that I'm used to hanging out in the infusion labs and joking around with people 20 years older than me. So this fella and I talked for a bit and essentially agreed how there isn't much else to do but just go forward with it and live the lives we've got.


I won't have my boy this Saturday as I normally do. He'll be with his Mom. Saturdays that follow an infusion have become my worst days. I miss him like hell on the nights he's not with me, but it really doesn't serve either of us when I'm so fatigued and in pain. Fortunately after this infusion, I only have three more systemic infusions scheduled, plus one pump infusion. That's only four more Saturday's I won't see him within a ten week window. It will pass by before I know it.

And then, should scans and blood work come back negative, there will be no more anticipation of the coming chemo sickness. Again there's just about no nausea which is a blessing. And it could be worse. I know people in a lot worse shape than I am. I'm healthy and strong with no detectable cancer in my body. I'm just getting knocked around pretty good every couple of weeks. I believe June 6th will be my final treatment. And I'm sure as hell ready for that.

All Clear!

On Wednesday April 4th, I had another series of appointments at MSKCC or as I now like to call it a day at the spa (thank you Brad).

I had a morning CT scan - chest/abdomen/pelvis - followed by blood work and a visit with Dr. Kemeny and her wonderful staff (no sarcasm there - they're a great staff). My CT scan results were all negative and my blood work looked good, so I was eligible for and received another liver pump chemo treatment. Great news!!!

And honestly, I had no idea how concerned I was about my scan results until I had received the good news, walked into the waiting room, saw my friend, and threw my fists into the air and smiling from ear to ear. You have to understand this is not my standard response. Whenever I received scans during my first treatment, for the Rectal Cancer, I had some concerns, but as time went on I became more and more confident I had nothing to worry about. They would say, "Good news Mr. Scholl. Your scans came back clean. You have nothing to worry about for another three months." And I would politely smile while I thought to myself, "I have nothing to worry about. This is my first and last cancer diagnosis." But now that I have had this recurrence, my confidence has been shaken.

I mean, I'm sure as hell not going to stop living. I love my life, even with all this divorce nonsense (little judgment there...). Sure my circumstances are not ideal, but I have my boy, my family & friends, music, Life Coaching to return to, and all the things I love to do. And as my friend's very inspiring father, a three time cancer survivor says, you play the cards your dealt. That's it. I may whip 'em across the room every once in a while, scream my face off and imagine doing things that would ultimately not serve me, but then I'll always go pick them back up and presence myself to deep gratitude, for the privilege of still being in the game.

So yeah, I threw my fists into the air  and beamed a huge smile from ear to ear. I chose to not yell. Like me when I was there at MSKCC four years ago with my wife and son, during this most recent visit there was a family there across the room from us - husband & wife with a baby in a stroller. I'll keep my celebrating to a minimum while their life is very likely being turned upside down. On that day four years ago, a cheering fool dancing around in cowboy boots in the scariest waiting room I'd ever been in would not have made any sense to me. So, once I could finally lower my arms, I grabbed my CD, the only copy I had in my bag, and gave a signed copy to my doc, who wanted one because she likes country music. The other staff will get theirs on May 9th, should my blood work make me eligible and fortunate enough for another trip down to MSKCC for another pump treatment.

That evening, we went to Tamany Hall, a club on the Lower East Side, to see a friend from home (whom I haven't seen in years) who manages the place, and to listen to some rockabilly bands. Some of those cats were passionate performers and damn good singers. It felt so good to be there. And the stage was looking pretty comfortable. Perhaps I'll have to try it out sometime in the near future.