Update, Schmupdate
(8/15/08)
Well, there's never a smooth ride in this business I guess. Things were slightly bumpy this week, although the issue seems to be resolved. I had a couple of isolated incidents of passing blood clots in my urine in the past couple of weeks. It was weird - it happened on separate days, once about two weeks ago, once last week, and once early this week. But since the symptoms seemed similar to what happened when all of this started, I sounded a bit of an alarm with my doctor, and in true fashion she was right on top of things. She scheduled me for an appointment on Monday, I had an MRI on Tuesday, another appointment on Wednesday (this one was already scheduled as a regular check-in before chemo), and a cystoscopy yesterday.
So, you might be wondering what a cystoscopy is. Well, it's a fun little procedure where they take a cystoscope (basically a long tube with a camera at the end), push it up the urethra, and look inside the bladder. Luckily they squirt in some lidocaine gel first to numb things up a bit, so it didn't hurt too much. I was pretty apprehensive going in, partly because I was worried about what they would find, but also because it's been so long since I've had to be poked and prodded that I guess the prospect was a little daunting. The procedure itself was actually pretty quick and only took a few minutes. The only painful parts were the shot of antibiotics I got at the beginning (to prevent infection) and the couple of minutes that the scope was actually in my bladder. The medically-inclined engineer in me was pretty fascinated at being able to see my own bladder on the TV screen. Luckily everything was pretty clear - there was a small calcification that my urologic oncologist (the same doc who did my prostate surgery) said was probably the cause of the bleeding but was nothing to worry about. In fact he knocked it off with the scope by accident and it immediately came out in my urine afterwards. Apparently cells in the bladder can get irritated by chemo/radiation, and when they die off they act as a sort of seed around which calcifications can form.
Anyhow, so that's a load off. My oncologist wanted to make sure the cystoscopy was clear before I went in for chemo, and so here I am, back in the ITA. I'm getting VC (vincristine, cyclophosphamide) this time around, and it's my first time without adriamycin/doxorubicin. Luckily that means I only need to be here for one day, but it still will be the whole day, since I need to get mesna (bladder protectant) at 4 hours and 8 hours after the cyclophosphamide. Ah well, it should be no problem compared to 4 days, and I'm hoping the side effects will be minimal compared to the other chemo drugs. I was watching the olympics for a little bit, but then Martha Stewart came on and I promptly changed the channel.
Well that's it for now. Hope you're all doing well out there and making the most of the waning summer months!
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Feelin' Fine
(08/05/08)
Just three days til the craziness that is going to be the Olympics. Man, I hope China doesn't implode. I'm not really in support of protesting/boycotting the Olympics, but I kinda hope that China will take something positive away from all the criticism it's been getting and is likely to get during the events. Anyhow...
The last round finished up without too much fanfare - I definitely handled it better after that first day, but four days in the hospital is draining, even with going home at night. I'm getting a pretty good read on my own body's reaction to the chemo drugs though. The cycle is pretty consistent - after the chemo is done, I get about two days of minor nausea and just uncomfortableness. After that my skin gets kind of achy and sensitive all over for a couple days, and my tongue and mouth get minor sores (my tongue gets white and splotchy - it looks worse than it feels though). Then after about five days those things go away and I'm back to feeling relatively normal. Not too bad in the grand scheme I guess. After reading Lance Armstrong's book, I was expecting to be doubled over in the fetal position puking my guts out most of the time during treatment. I thought I would lose tons of weight and just feel super weak. Luckily none of that has really happened. Some days I even forget that anything is wrong. Not for the whole day, mind you, but I get these brief moments of time when my mind is occupied with something and I'm not constantly thinking about all this crappiness (heh, is that how you spell crappiness? happy -> crappy, so happiness -> crappiness?).
In any case, I've been feeling pretty good for the past week or so, both physically and mentally. My climbing has been going in this sawtooth pattern where it gets better and better then takes a dive after a cycle of chemo. Still, I've been able to go more frequently and climb for longer than when I first started during treatment, so I guess that's a good sign. Somehow, I've also been in a consistently good mood for the past week or so. Pre-last cycle I was in a consistently bad mood - maybe it was due to all the delays. I know what people say about a positive attitude, but sometimes you just can't help feeling crappy. I guess you just have to let yourself feel what you're going to feel and try to come out of it after a time. It certainly helps you appreciate the days when you feel good.
Still have seven more cycles to go. . . At this rate it'll take me through December - given that there will probably be more delays, I guess I'll likely turn 30 (on the 24th) before this is all over. Even so, I like to think that the chemo and radiation have already done their job in mopping up all the cancer cells, and any further treatment is just gravy. So pour some more gravy on me!
Just three days til the craziness that is going to be the Olympics. Man, I hope China doesn't implode. I'm not really in support of protesting/boycotting the Olympics, but I kinda hope that China will take something positive away from all the criticism it's been getting and is likely to get during the events. Anyhow...
The last round finished up without too much fanfare - I definitely handled it better after that first day, but four days in the hospital is draining, even with going home at night. I'm getting a pretty good read on my own body's reaction to the chemo drugs though. The cycle is pretty consistent - after the chemo is done, I get about two days of minor nausea and just uncomfortableness. After that my skin gets kind of achy and sensitive all over for a couple days, and my tongue and mouth get minor sores (my tongue gets white and splotchy - it looks worse than it feels though). Then after about five days those things go away and I'm back to feeling relatively normal. Not too bad in the grand scheme I guess. After reading Lance Armstrong's book, I was expecting to be doubled over in the fetal position puking my guts out most of the time during treatment. I thought I would lose tons of weight and just feel super weak. Luckily none of that has really happened. Some days I even forget that anything is wrong. Not for the whole day, mind you, but I get these brief moments of time when my mind is occupied with something and I'm not constantly thinking about all this crappiness (heh, is that how you spell crappiness? happy -> crappy, so happiness -> crappiness?).
In any case, I've been feeling pretty good for the past week or so, both physically and mentally. My climbing has been going in this sawtooth pattern where it gets better and better then takes a dive after a cycle of chemo. Still, I've been able to go more frequently and climb for longer than when I first started during treatment, so I guess that's a good sign. Somehow, I've also been in a consistently good mood for the past week or so. Pre-last cycle I was in a consistently bad mood - maybe it was due to all the delays. I know what people say about a positive attitude, but sometimes you just can't help feeling crappy. I guess you just have to let yourself feel what you're going to feel and try to come out of it after a time. It certainly helps you appreciate the days when you feel good.
Still have seven more cycles to go. . . At this rate it'll take me through December - given that there will probably be more delays, I guess I'll likely turn 30 (on the 24th) before this is all over. Even so, I like to think that the chemo and radiation have already done their job in mopping up all the cancer cells, and any further treatment is just gravy. So pour some more gravy on me!
Friday, July 25, 2008
Ahh. . . there you are!
(7/25/08)
"There you are!"
"Do I know you?"
"No, but that's where you are, you're there!"
(12 points if you name this movie)
Well, you're there, and I'm here, here being the Stanford Cancer Center, in the infusion treatment area (ITA) to be specific, in Treatment Area C2 to be even more specific. And that all means. . . yup! My counts were good enough for treatment! Yay! My neutrophils were at 1.7 two days ago, so I was greenlit to go in yesterday and for the next four days (til Sunday). Again, it's sort of a mixed bag of celebration I suppose, since I do get to/have to spend the next four days sitting here for 10 hrs a day, but it's another step towards completion of this long haul. It's not so bad - I usually get my own room since I'm here all day, and the place is somehow more cheerful than the normal hospital. When you stay inpatient, the people there are usually all really sick: a lot of them are bedridden or barely mobile. Plus, as I think I've said before, it's just kind of aweful being there at night - it's noisy and uncomfortable and boring and lonely, and you wake up to a totally unappetizing breakfast.
Here in the ITA, some people are just here a couple hours, others the full day like me, but almost everyone walks in and walks out. There are big windows and plenty of daylight. The nurses are all very friendly and they seem a bit less stressed out than the inpatient folks.
Still, this round seems to be hitting me a little harder than the previous ones have. I felt pretty nauseated going home yesterday and I haven't been able to eat much. Maybe it's the fact that I had a bit of a break and was feeling pretty good, so the contrast is that much greater. I dunno.
Just gotta roll with it I guess, and take my meds on time.
"There you are!"
"Do I know you?"
"No, but that's where you are, you're there!"
(12 points if you name this movie)
Well, you're there, and I'm here, here being the Stanford Cancer Center, in the infusion treatment area (ITA) to be specific, in Treatment Area C2 to be even more specific. And that all means. . . yup! My counts were good enough for treatment! Yay! My neutrophils were at 1.7 two days ago, so I was greenlit to go in yesterday and for the next four days (til Sunday). Again, it's sort of a mixed bag of celebration I suppose, since I do get to/have to spend the next four days sitting here for 10 hrs a day, but it's another step towards completion of this long haul. It's not so bad - I usually get my own room since I'm here all day, and the place is somehow more cheerful than the normal hospital. When you stay inpatient, the people there are usually all really sick: a lot of them are bedridden or barely mobile. Plus, as I think I've said before, it's just kind of aweful being there at night - it's noisy and uncomfortable and boring and lonely, and you wake up to a totally unappetizing breakfast.
Here in the ITA, some people are just here a couple hours, others the full day like me, but almost everyone walks in and walks out. There are big windows and plenty of daylight. The nurses are all very friendly and they seem a bit less stressed out than the inpatient folks.
Still, this round seems to be hitting me a little harder than the previous ones have. I felt pretty nauseated going home yesterday and I haven't been able to eat much. Maybe it's the fact that I had a bit of a break and was feeling pretty good, so the contrast is that much greater. I dunno.
Just gotta roll with it I guess, and take my meds on time.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
White blood cells, where are you?
The search continues... (7/16/08)
Well, I felt a ton better after the blood transfusion last week, but apparently my white cells are still not cooperating. I went in for my appointment on Monday, and my absolute neutrophils were even lower than last week (0.68, down from 1.3). The baseline for treatment is 1.5, so something seems screwy. The current theory is that the cycle of neupogen maybe to blame. After each round of treatment I've been doing 14 days of neupogen shots to help stimulate the bone marrow to produce more white blood cells. The problem is that neupogen causes the white cells to shoot up in number, and so ideally we should wait until they come back down to a natural level before getting treatment. My doctor likes to use the analogy of factories. We've got bone marrow factories that produce red and white cells. Radiation and chemo tend to shut down those factories. The neupogen is supposed to stimulate the factories to produce, but it does so at an accelerated rate. I guess it's like bringing in a ton of extra workers to get the factory up and running again. Slowly while the extra workers are there, the normal workers get back up to speed. So the factories overproduce at first, and when the neupogen wears off, the factories come back down to their "normal" production level (not really normal, but normal enough to get treated with the next round of chemo!). The problem is that if you hit the factories with more chemo while they're up at their overproduction rate, you might be doing so before the natural level has come back up. You basically get rid of all the extra workers while the normal workers are not quite up to capacity yet. Because of the timing of my previous neupogen shots, it may have been that I was getting treatment during these artificially high production times, and the culmulative effect of overstressing the system ends up being that the white cell counts come way down, which ultimately means delays in treatment. This would explain why my previous few cycles have gone relatively smoothly in terms of timing, but it seems my body is now trying to play catch up.
In any case, we'll go in again next Wednesday to see if things have improved. It's super frustrating, but it's also very typical for this type of chemo regimen. Every time this happens, we ask, "Is there anything I can do differently?". But the reality is that it's the chemo and residual effects from radiation at work, and so no amount of eating differently or resting more or exercising more will really change things. Basically, there's nothing I can do, and that's the worst part. You just have to wait it out, and that makes you feel so powerless. The best thing I try and do is just continue with my life as much as possible. It's this strange mix of feelings - part of me is excited by the extra week of freedom, but part of me just wants to get this thing over with. There's also the sinking feeling that more delays mean more chance for the cancer to fight back between rounds. I guess the flip side of that is, well, maybe the chemo and radiation have already done their work killing off the cancer cells, and the rest of this is just gravy. There's no way to know. . . urgh.
In other news, I've been doing better at the climbing wall these past couple of weeks. I think the extra blood really helped a lot. Reminds me of the Simpsons episode where Mr. Burns gets a transfusion of Bart's blood and is suddenly revitalized and energetic. I was able to do a bunch of climbs yesterday without feeling too tired, and I've noticed my energy during the day is back more or less to "normal". And to finish off the post, here are a few notes on what I've been up to:
Reading: The Ecology of Commerce, by Paul Hawken
Listening to: Zero 7, The Decemberists, Sara Bareilles (I know, cheesy poppy, but whatever), Flaming Lips, REM (of course), shuffled songs on my iPod
Playing: Super Mario Galaxy (sooo much fun!!)
Slowly working on: my thesis, slides for my defense
Pondering: some post-thesis work that will combine engineering, social benefit, and international development with education, clean tech, and/or medicine
Trying to get back into: Tai chi
Watching: Flight of the Conchords, So You Think You Can Dance, America's Best Dance Crew, Scrubs
Well, I felt a ton better after the blood transfusion last week, but apparently my white cells are still not cooperating. I went in for my appointment on Monday, and my absolute neutrophils were even lower than last week (0.68, down from 1.3). The baseline for treatment is 1.5, so something seems screwy. The current theory is that the cycle of neupogen maybe to blame. After each round of treatment I've been doing 14 days of neupogen shots to help stimulate the bone marrow to produce more white blood cells. The problem is that neupogen causes the white cells to shoot up in number, and so ideally we should wait until they come back down to a natural level before getting treatment. My doctor likes to use the analogy of factories. We've got bone marrow factories that produce red and white cells. Radiation and chemo tend to shut down those factories. The neupogen is supposed to stimulate the factories to produce, but it does so at an accelerated rate. I guess it's like bringing in a ton of extra workers to get the factory up and running again. Slowly while the extra workers are there, the normal workers get back up to speed. So the factories overproduce at first, and when the neupogen wears off, the factories come back down to their "normal" production level (not really normal, but normal enough to get treated with the next round of chemo!). The problem is that if you hit the factories with more chemo while they're up at their overproduction rate, you might be doing so before the natural level has come back up. You basically get rid of all the extra workers while the normal workers are not quite up to capacity yet. Because of the timing of my previous neupogen shots, it may have been that I was getting treatment during these artificially high production times, and the culmulative effect of overstressing the system ends up being that the white cell counts come way down, which ultimately means delays in treatment. This would explain why my previous few cycles have gone relatively smoothly in terms of timing, but it seems my body is now trying to play catch up.
In any case, we'll go in again next Wednesday to see if things have improved. It's super frustrating, but it's also very typical for this type of chemo regimen. Every time this happens, we ask, "Is there anything I can do differently?". But the reality is that it's the chemo and residual effects from radiation at work, and so no amount of eating differently or resting more or exercising more will really change things. Basically, there's nothing I can do, and that's the worst part. You just have to wait it out, and that makes you feel so powerless. The best thing I try and do is just continue with my life as much as possible. It's this strange mix of feelings - part of me is excited by the extra week of freedom, but part of me just wants to get this thing over with. There's also the sinking feeling that more delays mean more chance for the cancer to fight back between rounds. I guess the flip side of that is, well, maybe the chemo and radiation have already done their work killing off the cancer cells, and the rest of this is just gravy. There's no way to know. . . urgh.
In other news, I've been doing better at the climbing wall these past couple of weeks. I think the extra blood really helped a lot. Reminds me of the Simpsons episode where Mr. Burns gets a transfusion of Bart's blood and is suddenly revitalized and energetic. I was able to do a bunch of climbs yesterday without feeling too tired, and I've noticed my energy during the day is back more or less to "normal". And to finish off the post, here are a few notes on what I've been up to:
Reading: The Ecology of Commerce, by Paul Hawken
Listening to: Zero 7, The Decemberists, Sara Bareilles (I know, cheesy poppy, but whatever), Flaming Lips, REM (of course), shuffled songs on my iPod
Playing: Super Mario Galaxy (sooo much fun!!)
Slowly working on: my thesis, slides for my defense
Pondering: some post-thesis work that will combine engineering, social benefit, and international development with education, clean tech, and/or medicine
Trying to get back into: Tai chi
Watching: Flight of the Conchords, So You Think You Can Dance, America's Best Dance Crew, Scrubs
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
There will be blood. . . eventually
(7/8/08)
Hmmm. . . well I've been delayed again due to low white cell counts. Yesterday was a fun rigamaroll that had me marching around the cancer center trying to figure out some hospital craziness.
I showed up with my mom at about 9am to get my blood drawn. (Before each appointment I need to get my blood drawn so the doctor can see if my counts are high enough for me to be treated.) A simple thing, right? Not so much. First I went to the blood draw lab, but they didn't have my lab form. I usually get the form after my previous appointment, but I didn't have it this time for some reason. So, I went upstairs to the Infusion Treatment Area (ITA), where they do blood draws and outpatient infusions for people with central lines (either a PICC or a port like I have now). In my mind, since I had the port, I thought it'd be easier to get my blood drawn the old fashioned way (but you have to do this at the lab downstairs). So, instead of telling them I had a port, I told them I didn't have a PICC anymore and I wanted to get the lab form to go downstairs to the normal blood draw lab. I waited for a couple minutes and they told me they didn't have the lab form and to go downstairs to the clinic to get it.
So of course I did that, and another fun surprise awaited: there were no lab instructions because my insurance was listed as terminated as of June 23. What the frak? (BSG reference, anyone?) I got on the phone with the insurance company, and they said there was probably a glitch because Stanford didn't put me on the list of students continuing on for the summer, even though the university had already billed me for summer tuition and insurance. Luckily that was easy enough to fix, but it would take a couple days to get it in the system. Meanwhile, we had to wait around while the receptionist (who is exceedingly nice) called around to try and figure out how to deal with the situation. Finally she said I could just go upstairs to the ITA and they could do the blood draw.
Back up the stairs we went, but there were still problems. There was still nothing in the system. Somehow, though, once I told the guy behind the desk that I did indeed have a port, he said I could just wait there and they would get me in. By this time I had missed my 10am appointment, but since the clinic knew things had gotten a little mixed up, I was still able to see the doctor (they're used to this kind of thing I guess). I got my blood drawn, finally, through my port, and went back downstairs to wait to see the doctor.
We ended up waiting for a while in the examination room, and when the doctor came in the full blood results still weren't ready. Of course, when they were finally ready it turned out I couldn't be treated (absolute neutrophils were at 1.3, and they need to be at 1.5 to be treated). Also, my red cell counts were low, so I needed to show up the next day (today) to get a blood transfusion. This was not a huge surprise, since I've been feeling pretty tired the past couple of weeks. It was about 2pm by the time we got out, a good five hours after arriving.
Today was not a whole lot different. We showed up at the ITA at 8am, and first the nurse had trouble finding my orders. Then, it turned out they had to do a blood type check (i.e. draw more blood), and this would take up to (actually more than) two hours. So we went downstairs to the lobby area, where there are some nice cushy chairs, and I basically took a nap for two hours. Finally at about noon, the nurse called me back, and the blood came and we got started at about 12:30. I'm just finishing the first of two bags now, so two more hours and I'm outta here, probably at about 4:30 or 5pm. . . ah, a full day's work. If anyone was wondering how appointments could end up taking such a long time, wonder no more!
Hmmm. . . well I've been delayed again due to low white cell counts. Yesterday was a fun rigamaroll that had me marching around the cancer center trying to figure out some hospital craziness.
I showed up with my mom at about 9am to get my blood drawn. (Before each appointment I need to get my blood drawn so the doctor can see if my counts are high enough for me to be treated.) A simple thing, right? Not so much. First I went to the blood draw lab, but they didn't have my lab form. I usually get the form after my previous appointment, but I didn't have it this time for some reason. So, I went upstairs to the Infusion Treatment Area (ITA), where they do blood draws and outpatient infusions for people with central lines (either a PICC or a port like I have now). In my mind, since I had the port, I thought it'd be easier to get my blood drawn the old fashioned way (but you have to do this at the lab downstairs). So, instead of telling them I had a port, I told them I didn't have a PICC anymore and I wanted to get the lab form to go downstairs to the normal blood draw lab. I waited for a couple minutes and they told me they didn't have the lab form and to go downstairs to the clinic to get it.
So of course I did that, and another fun surprise awaited: there were no lab instructions because my insurance was listed as terminated as of June 23. What the frak? (BSG reference, anyone?) I got on the phone with the insurance company, and they said there was probably a glitch because Stanford didn't put me on the list of students continuing on for the summer, even though the university had already billed me for summer tuition and insurance. Luckily that was easy enough to fix, but it would take a couple days to get it in the system. Meanwhile, we had to wait around while the receptionist (who is exceedingly nice) called around to try and figure out how to deal with the situation. Finally she said I could just go upstairs to the ITA and they could do the blood draw.
Back up the stairs we went, but there were still problems. There was still nothing in the system. Somehow, though, once I told the guy behind the desk that I did indeed have a port, he said I could just wait there and they would get me in. By this time I had missed my 10am appointment, but since the clinic knew things had gotten a little mixed up, I was still able to see the doctor (they're used to this kind of thing I guess). I got my blood drawn, finally, through my port, and went back downstairs to wait to see the doctor.
We ended up waiting for a while in the examination room, and when the doctor came in the full blood results still weren't ready. Of course, when they were finally ready it turned out I couldn't be treated (absolute neutrophils were at 1.3, and they need to be at 1.5 to be treated). Also, my red cell counts were low, so I needed to show up the next day (today) to get a blood transfusion. This was not a huge surprise, since I've been feeling pretty tired the past couple of weeks. It was about 2pm by the time we got out, a good five hours after arriving.
Today was not a whole lot different. We showed up at the ITA at 8am, and first the nurse had trouble finding my orders. Then, it turned out they had to do a blood type check (i.e. draw more blood), and this would take up to (actually more than) two hours. So we went downstairs to the lobby area, where there are some nice cushy chairs, and I basically took a nap for two hours. Finally at about noon, the nurse called me back, and the blood came and we got started at about 12:30. I'm just finishing the first of two bags now, so two more hours and I'm outta here, probably at about 4:30 or 5pm. . . ah, a full day's work. If anyone was wondering how appointments could end up taking such a long time, wonder no more!
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Me and My Port
(6/24/08)I figured the last post was so jam packed with stuff that I'd save this last pic for a separate post. Here's what the port looks like under my skin. It's a little creepy to me still, like a little alien or cyborg part or something sitting there. Luckily it doesn't really move around or anything. The double circle is where they stick the two needles in to access it, and the line goes up over my clavicle, so you can see the catheter sticking up through the skin there. So far it's definitely been worth it. No more shower sleeve, no more weekly dressing changes - plus I can swim and climb and do all sorts of things without worrying too much about it. I tend to fiddle with it a lot, kind of like people who have piercings, but usually I don't notice it too much. It does help me feel that much closer to normal.
Me and My Brows
On the flipside, one thing that's been making me feel a little less normal is my loss of eyebrows and lashes. The brows have really thinned out quite a bit, and the lashes have also mostly fallen out. I guess like everyone I'm a little vain, so the ability to pass myself off as some guy who just decided to shave his head was kind of nice. I suppose most people don't really notice, or if they do they certainly don't say anything, but for some reason I always end up wondering what the guy on the street would think. Plus, I think I've started coveting other people's eyebrows. For some reason I find myself staring at them all the time now. It's ridiculous, I know, but I guess I just never noticed eyebrows before. Maybe I can start to make other people feel self-conscious by just continuously staring at their nice thick, bushy brows.
Anyway, my eyelashes coming out doesn't bother me that much from an aesthetic level, but practically I think I've started getting more gunk in my eyes as a result. I guess it turns out they really do serve a purpose, to keep crap out of your eyes. I can't even do the boy scout first aid trick we learned where you pull down your top eyelid over your bottom lid to get the botttom eyelashes to scoop out the gunk in your top lid. How is one supposed to get gunk out of his eye without eyelashes?
Monday, June 23, 2008
Hawaii, Graduation, Round 9, Oh My!!
(6/23/08)
Hey folks, it's been a long while since I last posted. I guess usually that's a good thing, since it typically means I'm able to do more and more besides sit in front of my computer all day (or do something different while I'm sitting here, like actually write up some of my research). Aaaannnyway, It's been a pretty busy month or so. After the last round of chemo (round 8), I spent a couple days trying to recover in time to go to Hawaii (woohoo!) for my college buddy's wedding. I was a tad worried when I wasn't feeling that great on Sunday, since our flight was on Tuesday, but it all worked out and I was fine (though a little tired) by the time we had to go to the airport. After coming back from Hawaii I had about a week to recover from that (I guess somehow I managed to have energy while there but my body kind of revolted and crashed a bit when I came back) before walking for graduation. Then it was on to round 9, my last in-patient chemo and my last chemo with doxorubicin (adriamycin).
Woo hoo Oa'hu
I was a little concerned about bringing my neupogen shots on the plane, but the security folks weren't really phased by it at all. I brought the syringes in a little soft-sided lunchbox cooler that Serena and I found at Target. I had a note from my doctor all prepared, but didn't even need it. The guy did ask to look inside the cooler, but all he said was, "Is it medical?" I nodded my head and that was good enough. (Funny enough, on the way back the guards were more concerned with the orange and jars of jam that I had in my bag than the needles).
So of course Hawaii was beautiful and awesome. My friend Tom (from high school - wait, actually from MIDDLE school!) surprised us at the airport with a lei greeting and took us to a place in Chinatown for lunch. Tommy decided to up and move to Hawaii for a year or so, since his brother is stationed there right now with the Navy. Tom and his bro live up in Kailua, which has a gorgeously long stretch of beach with very few people on it. Quite the difference from the touristy bustle of Waikiki.
Our hotel in Waikiki was a little rundown but had a kitchenette and fridge (though at first we thought the fridge might not be working - it took a while to cool off), so that was good for storing the neupogen shots and cold drinks. We spent most of the days driving around the island or hanging out with friends who were in town for the wedding. I'll let the pics speak for themselves (err, with the help of captions, that is).
Diamond Head: The lookout from the top of the crater on the east side of the island. It's a short but steep-ish hike to get up there - the top part has a bunch of stairs that were part of the old military lookout tower. I was huffing and puffing but I made it up!
Yay! I'm in Hawaii!
This was a really cool lookout point on the north shore. There's a hole that goes right through that big island rock out there.
Swimming at Waimea Bay on the north shore. I actually got to go in the water, too, thanks to my medi-port, but I didn't get any pics of myself.
Morning stroll at Kailua Beach on the windward side of the island. It's a lot more relaxing and less crowded than Waikiki.
Then of course there was the wedding. Not a bad backdrop, eh?
Me and the groom, Mike. In college people used to get us confused with each other because we both had longer hair and would rollerblade around campus. I told him he has to shave his head to keep the confusion going. . .
A mini-reunion of our freshman dorm. I'm standing next to Michael, my freshman year roommate. There were tons of other Stanford folks there too, which made for lots of fun.
Graduation (6/15/08)
Graduation was actually more fun than I was expecting. The day wasn't too hot, and though the ceremony was its normal bit of tedium, it was fun to see people there having a good time with their friends and family. Plus, it was nice to celebrate something after all that's happened (thanks for the perspective, Blase). For those of you who might be confused, no I haven't actually graduated yet. As a PhD student, if you're close to graduating, they will let you walk during the graduation ceremony (for PhDs, you are "hooded" by your advisor), but you don't actually get your diploma. Here are some pics:
Pre-ceremony photos with the roomies, Charlie and Janet. Charlie is also getting his PhD, but he walked last year.
"Getting hooded" by my undergraduate EE advisor, Bob Dutton. Usually this is done by your PhD advisor, but, well, it's a long story...
I've got another pic like this from when I got my masters. This time, they actually put something in there to tell you you have to give the folder back. Last time, it was just blank. I guess my mom found it amusing and wanted to recreate the picture.
Me, my mom, and my advisors. Prof. Gunter Niemeyer (Mechanical Engineering) is the tall guy on the left (sporting MIT faculty robes) and Dr. David Liang (Cardiovascular Medicine) is the one on the right. Don't ask me how I'm ending up with an EE degree, but it does turn out that both of them have "courtesy" appointments in the EE department.
Round 9 (6/16-6/18/08)
Well, as I said before, this was my last in-patient chemo AND my last chemo with doxorubicin (adriamycin). From here on out, when I get this set it'll just be VC (vincristine, cyclophosfamide), which is just a one day infusion. So the remaining chemo cycles will alternate between four days (ifosfamide, etoposide) and one day every three weeks. Just eight more cycles to go!
Right now I'm feeling pretty good (6/23/08), although I last week I was apparently a little anemic. Not enough to need a blood transfusion, but I think it was enough to make me feel really tired and worn out when I went climbing yesterday (I know, I should probably just be happy to be able to climb at all and not complain about how well I'm climbing, but I guess that's the overachiever in me. Besides, what's the world coming to when you can only do a 5.9 and can't make it all the way up a 5.10a at Planet Granite? Honestly...). It's actually not too bad if I take long rests between climbs, but if I try and do anything that requires a modicum of endurance, my whole body starts to feel like it's about to collapse. It's such a strange feeling, because it's much more sudden than if you were normally just exhausted from exercise, but it also recovers more quickly as well.
Oh, and there's one more bit of good news! My scans were totally clear! I had an MRI of my pelvis and it showed that the nefarious "butt bump" has totally gone away. My chest CT showed that the little lung nodules are still there, but as we thought before, this probably means that they're just from an old infection or something. My doctor thinks it's very unlikely that one tumor would respond to the chemo but the others wouldn't, so basically the nodules should have gone away if they're tumor. Since they didn't, it seems like they're not. Woohoo!
Hey folks, it's been a long while since I last posted. I guess usually that's a good thing, since it typically means I'm able to do more and more besides sit in front of my computer all day (or do something different while I'm sitting here, like actually write up some of my research). Aaaannnyway, It's been a pretty busy month or so. After the last round of chemo (round 8), I spent a couple days trying to recover in time to go to Hawaii (woohoo!) for my college buddy's wedding. I was a tad worried when I wasn't feeling that great on Sunday, since our flight was on Tuesday, but it all worked out and I was fine (though a little tired) by the time we had to go to the airport. After coming back from Hawaii I had about a week to recover from that (I guess somehow I managed to have energy while there but my body kind of revolted and crashed a bit when I came back) before walking for graduation. Then it was on to round 9, my last in-patient chemo and my last chemo with doxorubicin (adriamycin).
Woo hoo Oa'hu
I was a little concerned about bringing my neupogen shots on the plane, but the security folks weren't really phased by it at all. I brought the syringes in a little soft-sided lunchbox cooler that Serena and I found at Target. I had a note from my doctor all prepared, but didn't even need it. The guy did ask to look inside the cooler, but all he said was, "Is it medical?" I nodded my head and that was good enough. (Funny enough, on the way back the guards were more concerned with the orange and jars of jam that I had in my bag than the needles).
So of course Hawaii was beautiful and awesome. My friend Tom (from high school - wait, actually from MIDDLE school!) surprised us at the airport with a lei greeting and took us to a place in Chinatown for lunch. Tommy decided to up and move to Hawaii for a year or so, since his brother is stationed there right now with the Navy. Tom and his bro live up in Kailua, which has a gorgeously long stretch of beach with very few people on it. Quite the difference from the touristy bustle of Waikiki.
Our hotel in Waikiki was a little rundown but had a kitchenette and fridge (though at first we thought the fridge might not be working - it took a while to cool off), so that was good for storing the neupogen shots and cold drinks. We spent most of the days driving around the island or hanging out with friends who were in town for the wedding. I'll let the pics speak for themselves (err, with the help of captions, that is).
Diamond Head: The lookout from the top of the crater on the east side of the island. It's a short but steep-ish hike to get up there - the top part has a bunch of stairs that were part of the old military lookout tower. I was huffing and puffing but I made it up!
Yay! I'm in Hawaii!
This was a really cool lookout point on the north shore. There's a hole that goes right through that big island rock out there.
Swimming at Waimea Bay on the north shore. I actually got to go in the water, too, thanks to my medi-port, but I didn't get any pics of myself.
Morning stroll at Kailua Beach on the windward side of the island. It's a lot more relaxing and less crowded than Waikiki.
Then of course there was the wedding. Not a bad backdrop, eh?
Me and the groom, Mike. In college people used to get us confused with each other because we both had longer hair and would rollerblade around campus. I told him he has to shave his head to keep the confusion going. . . 
A mini-reunion of our freshman dorm. I'm standing next to Michael, my freshman year roommate. There were tons of other Stanford folks there too, which made for lots of fun.
Graduation (6/15/08)
Graduation was actually more fun than I was expecting. The day wasn't too hot, and though the ceremony was its normal bit of tedium, it was fun to see people there having a good time with their friends and family. Plus, it was nice to celebrate something after all that's happened (thanks for the perspective, Blase). For those of you who might be confused, no I haven't actually graduated yet. As a PhD student, if you're close to graduating, they will let you walk during the graduation ceremony (for PhDs, you are "hooded" by your advisor), but you don't actually get your diploma. Here are some pics:
Pre-ceremony photos with the roomies, Charlie and Janet. Charlie is also getting his PhD, but he walked last year.
"Getting hooded" by my undergraduate EE advisor, Bob Dutton. Usually this is done by your PhD advisor, but, well, it's a long story...
I've got another pic like this from when I got my masters. This time, they actually put something in there to tell you you have to give the folder back. Last time, it was just blank. I guess my mom found it amusing and wanted to recreate the picture.
Me, my mom, and my advisors. Prof. Gunter Niemeyer (Mechanical Engineering) is the tall guy on the left (sporting MIT faculty robes) and Dr. David Liang (Cardiovascular Medicine) is the one on the right. Don't ask me how I'm ending up with an EE degree, but it does turn out that both of them have "courtesy" appointments in the EE department. Round 9 (6/16-6/18/08)
Well, as I said before, this was my last in-patient chemo AND my last chemo with doxorubicin (adriamycin). From here on out, when I get this set it'll just be VC (vincristine, cyclophosfamide), which is just a one day infusion. So the remaining chemo cycles will alternate between four days (ifosfamide, etoposide) and one day every three weeks. Just eight more cycles to go!
Right now I'm feeling pretty good (6/23/08), although I last week I was apparently a little anemic. Not enough to need a blood transfusion, but I think it was enough to make me feel really tired and worn out when I went climbing yesterday (I know, I should probably just be happy to be able to climb at all and not complain about how well I'm climbing, but I guess that's the overachiever in me. Besides, what's the world coming to when you can only do a 5.9 and can't make it all the way up a 5.10a at Planet Granite? Honestly...). It's actually not too bad if I take long rests between climbs, but if I try and do anything that requires a modicum of endurance, my whole body starts to feel like it's about to collapse. It's such a strange feeling, because it's much more sudden than if you were normally just exhausted from exercise, but it also recovers more quickly as well.
Oh, and there's one more bit of good news! My scans were totally clear! I had an MRI of my pelvis and it showed that the nefarious "butt bump" has totally gone away. My chest CT showed that the little lung nodules are still there, but as we thought before, this probably means that they're just from an old infection or something. My doctor thinks it's very unlikely that one tumor would respond to the chemo but the others wouldn't, so basically the nodules should have gone away if they're tumor. Since they didn't, it seems like they're not. Woohoo!
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