30% liver cancer reduction
Monday Barbara came with me as I saw my oncologist, Dr Lisa Horvath, and received the results of the CT scan taken last Wednesday.
The CT scan shows that on average, the cancer in the liver has reduced about 30% over the last two months. The three liver function indicators that were bad when first measured two months ago in a blood test and are being measured before each round of chemo; show one indicator returned to normal levels after the first round of chemo, the second is just above normal as of Monday and the third has halved and heading towards becoming normal.
In simple terms, the doctor’s prognosis of 2 to 5 years of life holds. I am hoping that the rate of shrinking will increase a little so that at the end of 6 months, there is no cancer in the liver! Lisa said we can be very happy with the progress so far. She did not talk about the cancer in the lymph nodes or the bowel and we did not ask.
Ebbs and flows
As in the other chemo rounds, my queasiness increased on Wednesday and continued today, Thursday. Having felt so good, I had forgotten this and so felt a little shocked when I felt queasy on Wednesday.
The chemotherapy is a two-week cycle that is affecting my body similarly each time. The anti nausea tablet Kytril and the anti nausea liquid that starts the treatment on the first day can cause constipation, which means that the first bowel movement is always hardest. By the tenth day one or two movements can be runny. The queasiness follows a similar pattern except a couple of days behind.
In the time between rounds 4 and 5 I had some mild bleeding from the nose. Dr Lisa said this was a common chemo side effect in winter. The cold weather plays on the chemo-weakened membrane. With warmer temperatures the last few days there has been no bleeding.
So, I am writing this entry feeling queasy. Please remember, this is a mild reaction to the chemotherapy compared with what I can see in some of the patients that are around me at the hospital every second Monday.
Emotional flows and expressions
At Al’s 30th birthday (next blog entry), people expressed that my blog tends to be factual being descriptions of what is happening and what I am doing. I have thought on this. Part of the reason is because I am aware of others with cancer suffering far more and dying and I am not wanting to ‘big note’ myself or sound like I am glorying in my good fortune.
In my last blog entry I mentioned friends receiving a phone call on the Sunday of a neighbour dying from cancer. Monday I received an email from Gary, a friend from Springwood Baptist days. His sister, in her fifties, died from a brain tumour on Monday 21 May with the funeral on the Wednesday. My Canadian friend Terry, who came to Australia in the late 1980s and 1990 to run Think on Your Feet® for Arthur Young and Ernst and Young, sent an email on Tuesday to advise that his wife, Connie’s brother had died of bone cancer in December. So, on three consecutive days I learn of deaths from cancer. I am glad these friends let me know their sad news. I am being reminded all the time about the individual journeys that people have with cancer. How can I glory too much in my own good situation?
How do I feel? Overall, I am very happy. I am surrounded by the love of my family and friends. I have much to be happy about. Therefore, when I talk of the times I am spending with people, the places I am going, the events I am celebrating: I am expressing my happiness. I am finding these times uplifting through the conversations, the shared meals, the events we are celebrating, the places we visit and the things we see. It was fun seeing the goats and sheep at the Leaning Oak on the Mudgee weekend with Lesley and Stephen. It was uplifting at the lookout at Hardys Bay lookout that we walked up to with Barbie and Hugh last weekend. I feel teary with happiness even as I write this.
Contrast this with going in to have my chemo bottle removed, yesterday. In looking around the chemo patients undergoing their treatment I see this woman around my age softly crying. Her catheter has been inserted and she is awaiting the chemo treatment to start. Her husband is sitting with her, not saying a word, obviously feeling so sad for his wife. How can I but feel sad too as I do now as I write this! I have burst into tears. I do not know why she was so sad. It could have been from the pain of the catheter being inserted. It could be the uncertainty and anxiety from awaiting the chemo treatment to start. It could be simply a feeling of desolation as she wonders what her journey will be like.
As I write this I am listening to John Denver who captures emotions so well in his songs.
So, what is my underlying emotion and feeling? Overall, I am feeling contented and happy. It seems I simply adjusted to having to live with cancer. I did not get angry or fearful. I thought and think of it as moving into a new phase in my life and, as I have said, living it as best I can. It is a phase that I would prefer not to have. I am glad I went public as I am still uplifted by all the wonderful emails and various phone calls and visits where you expressed such support for me, Barbara and our family. Those words still ring in my head and heart and help me keep stable. Indeed, the response from the recent general update email has provided another boost. Your love, thoughts and prayers are part of my underlying contentment and happiness. And close at hand, is the wonderful love and support from Barbara and my children.
In whatever time I have left, I want to continue in and build on these wonderful relationships through sharing over the internet, by phone and in person at home and in other places. So, it was so good to have Peter and Jennifer come to lunch today, Thursday. Tonight I am having dinner at Ben’s place and we are playing Scrabble together.
thank you for sharing some of your feelings about what is happening to you David...I know that is not always so easy to do. Your positive outlook on your health is inspiring, love Carolyn
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