In Eight Steps to Happiness Geshe-la says "'Self' and 'other' are relative terms, rather like 'this mountain' and 'that mountain ... 'This' and 'that' therefore depend upon our point of reference. This is also true of self and other. By climbing down the mountain of self, it is possible to ascend the mountain of other, and thereby cherish others as much as we presently cherish ourself."

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Health Update - Good News

I am trying to be more focused on That Mountain (you) than This Mountain (me), but some folks seem interested to hear what's happening with my health, so I will try to cooperate.

Yesterday I got very good news: My cancer marker went down to the normal range! It's at 14.8, to be exact, which is in the middle of the range. (When I was initially diagnosed, it was almost 1,000.)

I'm just past halfway of my scheduled chemo treatments. I still need to discuss with my oncologist how this development might affect the original plan, which was for 4 months of chemo. In the past, he's said he'd like to see the number below 10. I had a recent dream that it was 6, and the oncologist in the dream wanted me to have more chemo, which puzzled me.

Do I finish out the planned chemo, seeing it as insurance against recurrence? (Is it like antibiotics, in that you need to take the full course even when your symptoms are better?) If so, I'd be done in mid-March, which would make it very feasible for me to attend US Festival.
Or do I end early, getting "time off for good behavior"?
At what point does the toxicity of the chemo outweigh the benefits?

My oncologist, Dr K, relies more on the scans (CT of torso, MRI of brain) than this blood test, so he's certainly going to want to see pictures at some point. Normally that would be done after I finished treatment.
MDs rely a lot on data, and I suspect there's no data on partial treatments. Thankfully, my oncologist is flexible and has a lot of experience, so he doesn't simply go with the standard.

For someone on chemo, I feel really good. If I were having more trouble, I'd be more likely to try to shorten treatment. This is my 2nd recurrence, so maybe I should pound the cancer, routing it for good.

I still have my hair, although it's thin in spots. I'm on the same chemo "recipe" as before - same drugs, same dosages - and in the past I always gone bald after 2-1/2 weeks. A month into treatment, wondering why my hair hadn't started falling out, I accused my oncologist of putting only pomegranate juice in my IV! He insisted he was giving me the drugs, in full dose. Whatever he's been giving me, it's working.
You know the expression "shock of hair"? It means head of hair, or more specifically, a noticeable mass of hair. In my case, it is a shock - it sticks out straight in every direction, as though I'd stuck my hand in a socket. I try to keep it under wraps - and hats - so as not to scare people.

I do have some fatigue, which is a drag, but I can still do most of what I want to do, as long as I get a lot of rest.
In the last few days, I developed hives, which I'm told is probably a reaction to the Taxol chemo. They look like zits or spider bites and are scattered around my body: 1 on the top of my foot, 1 on my calf, 1 on my shoulder blade, 1 on my neck. I was getting a couple of new ones each day, but I think they're reversing course now.
I also have hearing loss and tinnitus (ringing in the ears) from the Cisplatin chemo I got for the 1st two rounds - until my doc switched me to it's cousin, Carboplatin, which is considered as effective. Carbo has different side effects, notably worse blood counts.
Dr K referred me to the same doc he went to for his hearing. I'm scheduled for a hearing test and consultation on a hearing aid in mid-February. In the meantime, there are some funny conversations, including the one I had setting up the hearing appointment. Thankfully Richard is easy-going, because when I'm not mishearing what he says ("meditate"? no, I said "vegetate"), I'm constantly asking him to repeat himself.

I consider myself very fortunate. These chemo drugs are effective for me; for many patients, they aren't. I am grateful for so many things, including you.
Thank you for your support.
Thank you, Medicine Buddha.

1 comment:

  1. I've only just begun to follow your blog, which I enjoy; I'm a Kadampa practitioner as well, and it's always interesting to hear another mind's thoughts on Dharma.
    I didn't know you were ill, but now that I do, I wish you well, and will continue do so, in the context of the Tibetan word for prayers meaning 'wish-path'.
    Best wishes,
    Marion

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