When my cancer was first discovered I had a doctor. Now I have a stable of specialists. One-by-one I’ve been visiting them to make sure my surgical recovery fits into their concerns.
Tuesday it was the oncologist. His one-and-only job is to devise my cancer treatment.
He took out a pad and began to draw a little chart. It is my chemotherapy regimen.
My poison will be Gemzar via IV at Hoag Hospital in Newport Beach. It’s two weeks on, one week off, two weeks on.
He says my chance of nausea is around 5%. I should be able to work.
Next six weeks of radiation five days a week. Just a few minutes a day, but at the hospital. My chance for nausea doubles.
When the radiation is done it’s back to chemo. Hopefully these steps will be enough and I’ll just have to get scans.
Helaine thought the oncologist was very encouraging. This is a vile disease, but I start from a decent place. At the moment I’d test cancer free. With pancreatic cancer that’s a meaningless claim. Gotta stay in front of it.
Like so much else associated with cancer, treatment is a pain in the ass. Because I’ll be needing lots of blood drawn and IV fluid infused I’m getting a port. One more minor surgical procedure.
A port is a permanent catheter into the major vein to your heart. No more needles, they just plug in to your chest. Am I USB3 compatible?
Nothing about this sounds fun. Thankfully, I’ll be in twilight during the procedure.
Cardiologist next. This was simpler.
My EKG looked good. A roving stethoscope found I sounded good. Blood pressure, oxygenation and pulse good. She adjusted one medication and sent me on my way. See you in six months. The appointment’s already made.
Cancer has turned into a second job.