The Mask

"Is this what has to happen to get you to write in your blog?"

I thought about it for a second, and I answered my mom, "Yes!  I'm going to write about this in my blog.  Yes, I promise I'll write about this in my blog."

I was speaking from behind a surgical mask.  About ten or fifteen minutes earlier we arrived Dana Farber and the receptionist asked if I was experiencing any cold or flu symptoms.  There was no way I could hide it.  My voice was incredibly hoarse and my nose was running.

"How did you guess?" I replied.

"Oh, well we ask that you wear this mask while you're here."

Ugh.  How embarrassing.  They gave me this ridiculous surgical mask to wear while everyone else with a cough or a sniffle either lied or waltzed right past the receptionist because she was only asking patients!  Come on.  For every patient there is at least one or two supporters, and the statistical likelihood that I was the only person in that waiting room with a communicable disease was quite low.  Yet I was the only one wearing a stupid mask.  So, there I sat, looking like a SARS patient and grumbling about it the entire time.  When I went to get my vitals taken, they even used a special ear thermometer instead of the one that goes in my mouth.  Cue the eye roll.  I don't handle these things gracefully, in case you didn't know.

As I sat there, fuming, my mom tried to lighten the situation by asking if I would blog about it, and here I am.  A promise is a promise, even if the incident did happen over a month ago.

The whole time I couldn't help but think about how these other cancer patients deal with the real world.  I mean, when they go to the grocery store do they ask the cashier to put on a mask?  (I think I may have said this aloud a couple of times).  I think if you happen to have a depressed immune system, it's your job to make sure you don't catch anything from anyone else.  Ask me how I feel about it when I'm on the other side of the surgical mask.  Gosh I hope I feel the same way so I'm not a hypocrite.

The irony is, I'm pretty sure I got sick at the doctor's office the week before.  The good news is, they've started asking if anyone that arrives with the patient has cold or flu symptoms.  The fantastic news is, I didn't have cold or flu symptoms the last time I went to the doctors office, so I didn't have to wear the stupid surgical mask again.

Head of the Class

The last time I wrote (yes, I realize it was ages ago) I had just learned the results of my CT scan, showing approximately a 30% reduction in the tumors in my liver.  While it was good news, it didn't really sound great to me.  It was definitely a step in the right direction, but my oncologist did admit that the first scan usually shows the most improvement and the results can drop off (sometimes significantly) after that.

Well, the last two months have been great from a personal perspective.  Rusty and I went to Mexico to see a rock band, Umphrey's McGee.  We have lots of pictures.  I'll share a few of my favorites.

The view from our oceanfront balcony.

Mayan ruins at Tulum.  Can you see the lizard?

Swimming with turtles at Akumal beach.

In the pool at the resort.

We also got to see lots of Phish (yay!) and we spent time with our family for each of the holidays.  It makes the cold weather bearable.  Well, so does 80 degree weather in Mexico.

The last two months have also been very good from a healing perspective.  I recently got the results from my last scan, and since my very first scan, the tumor has shrank a total of 55%!!  My doctor called me with the news and she told me that she was very pleased with the results and that it's been a long time since she's seen results as good as this.

I had my most recent follow-up appointment yesterday and I was curious if other patients were doing this well on the trial.  She and the research nurse agreed that I was pretty close to having the best response.  Then she went on to say quite humorously that I was by far the patient she enjoyed the most.  Then we went into a series of "bests."  I told her that I wasn't used to getting second place in anything, so I was going to have to make sure my third scan was even better.  The research nurse started playing along, so she asked if I was able to work throughout the treatment week.  I told her I only took one day to work from home and she agreed I was definitely the most "high functioning" patient they had.  Since my response was so good, the study calls for an extra scan, so I'll be getting one within 30 days instead of the usual 2 months.  I told them I assume this is so they have better pictures for the awards ceremony and we all got a laugh out of that.

It was a good appointment, and I'm definitely happy with my oncologist at Dana Farber and with the research nurse who is so diligent.  They're both awesome.  This month my Temozolomide dosage is being reduced according to the study protocol because my low platelets have been delaying treatment by a week every round.  On one hand, my doctor wasn't happy to be messing with a good thing.  However, the hope is that I'll be able to stay on a 4-week rotation schedule with the newer dosage so the results should be just as good or better.  We shall see.  I've just completed day one, which is the day I stay home because the anti-nausea meds make me feel a little light-headed and "out of it."  I hope that the lower chemo dose will mean less nausea problems this round.

Thanks for reading!