Saturday - September 8, 2012
After again exercising firm (better) control of my sleep, I awoke to a bit of a surprise from my intern. They have scheduled another follow-up head / orbit MRI following the end of today's chemo. He had originally suggested contacting radiology for a 3 p.m. appointment but I pushed back saying that chemo was to be done at 11:30 a.m. and that a noon appointment would eliminate more than three hours of downtime. He has said he will ask for 12:30. Arrgghh. Deep breath. This schedule is preferable to interrupting Joe's work day schedule so I will just postpone my deep desire to get OUT of here and hope that given general delays and scheduling issues, I will be home by mid-afternoon? dinner? Fingers crossed!
But isn't this another surprise that could have been better addressed through clearer advance communication? These garden paths diverging from the discussed, planned, and mapped procedures have eroded my patience as well as my positivity. Planning and focused goals are simply a part of my make-up; I like firm plans and schedules to anticipate and get my mind wrapped around. This strong mind-set applies to overall life goals, travel, and certainly lymphoma treatments! Improvisation of firm outlines and plans is not one of my strongest assets and I find that these deviations drag me down .... Unfortunately (for me) they seem to be par for the course these days.
Today marks the most glaring turn onto a first-unknown garden path. Way back on Friday May 11 when Dr. Perkins phoned me
late in the afternoon with my diffuse large b-cell lymphoma diagnosis, this
chemo round #6 was to be the end of my treatment. I would have tripped out of the hospital this afternoon knowing
that a Neulasta shot awaited me on Monday, Friday would bring a 5-minute
vincristine infusion, and four days of mega-steroids would span next Saturday –
Tuesday. And then this would have been
it. 6 rounds and done. But – perhaps I’m a cynic at this point -
was I really told everything?
In early June, I had my realization that this timetable
(this “syllabus” as Carolyn terms it) was not accurate. During chemotherapy round #2, we had our
first peek at the Bone Marrow Transplant (BMT) garden path - my first hint that
the 6 round Hyper CVAD treatment protocol was not exactly what my oncology team
had in mind. Bumped from the Oncology
Floor due to lack of space, I was placed on the BMT unit where the attending
physicians spoke to me about my upcoming BMT.
Ummmm …. Say what?! Carolyn
quickly hustled down to Dalton, pulled my oncologist for 2 minutes of his time,
and got acknowledgement that a BMT was a definite possibility. In my subsequent research, looking at my
IPI I saw clearly that I am at a High Intermediate risk group and
that with such a designation a BMT is indeed recommended. Surely, my team realized this path was probable if not
inevitable. So why wasn’t I made aware
of this treatment at that initial discussion back on May 11? In early May, Joe and I were still thinking
that in December we would move to San Francisco or that we would stay in
Williamsburg where I would return to the classroom as a substitute or as a
mid-year replacement classroom teacher.
Lord! - in early July we were
still discussing our planned Christmas vacation to Maui! We STILL had not realized that the BMT
garden path led us away from all travel, all moves, all work, and all community
interaction. We had not realized that
our world and choices would be contained for another full year.
As I have discussed in numerous earlier posts, garden path
#2 involves third-party bone marrow transplant rather than the autologous
(self-donating) BMT. Again, I felt that
I had received easier / safer information and then when the firm discussion
actually happened, a firmer / scarier reality surfaced. My probable central nervous system (CNS) involvement
and my “bizarre” symptom presentation were already well known. Why was autologous option mentioned on the BMT unit but then
played down at our formal meeting?
And now, I am presented with garden path #3: more hospitalizations to span this
supposedly end-of-treatment round #6 and the upcoming, still-unscheduled, still-undefined BMT. During these hospitalizations, I will
receive methotrexate without the companion cytarabine infusion thus allowing a
much higher level of methotrexate infusion to address possible CNS involvement. How many days will this involve? The usual 4 days at a clip or will a higher methotrexate dose require more time to purge? No info ... yet.
Finally, in last week’s blog, Suleika Jaouad wrote that she is now on a chemo regimen following her
BMT. Carolyn and I both had the same
reaction. Is this my garden path
#4? Does anyone know? Is there a known “syllabus” out there to
which I am not privy? Is there a
blueprint available that will be thoughtfully edited as I progress and move
forward? Probably, all cynicism and
paranoia aside, it is as Joe asserts and the latter is the case. My team is making modifications and being
conservative and cautious as each treatment stage ends and a new phase opens up. My intellectual self aligns with Joseph but
another part of me harkens back to the information control of previous medical
eras when plans were meted out in small doses and at the discretion of the
physicians.
I sometimes feel as if I am indeed wandering down one of
many garden paths, not knowing where I am going, not sure I have full
information. Completely aware that I exercise very little to no control in this journey.
And what do I intend to do?
Well, of course I will continue to pull out info from my team and
educate myself in all ways possible.
However, my primary goal is to take advantage of the expertise that
surrounds me. Who the hell am I to
presume to know what is the best path?
I will walk down all garden paths shown to me on this journey in order
to do whatever is necessary to purge this lymphoma completely and permanently
from my body. I just wish I had a map
of the garden and all the paths I will be expected to follow.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
SO happy to have Yvette as my RN today!
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
SO happy to have Yvette as my RN today!
1 comment:
Dearest Chris,
One thing. I learned in Mom's journey, is that treating cancer of any type can be a lot like what I call "voodoo" medicine. Sometimes how the patient's body reacts determines the next step of the protocol. I think you are unique in that you can handle a LOT of information at one time. Many cancer patients are completely overwhelmed with the diagnosis and have trouble processing much information from there.
I suggest you have one of your heart to hearts with your oncologist. Ask him for a flow chart of possibilities, explaining your need to see the whole picture with its various possible paths. He may say there are way too many possibilities for us to do that, or he may say I'll draw one up. In either case, it would give you a better understanding of why information is being shared the way it is being shared. I suspect you are going to get answer number one. In which case, you will need to adjust your personal approach. There are many unknowns in life. Your particular path may be one of them.
My love and prayers go out to you and for your family. My mom, from her mom, would often say, 'Let go and let God'. Imagine Nana saying that to you!!!
Love you,
--Kim
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