Cancer Selfies

Returning to the Chemo Suite

I said a few weeks ago that my cancer symptoms had become more noticeable than my surgery symptoms, and today's talk with the oncologist was a natural consequence of that. I see her again on November 6th, and return to the chemo suite on the 8th.

This is not inherently bad news. The CT scan showed no new tumors, my blood counts are good, there is no evidence of dangerous new mutations yet. I've simply been off treatment for over six months, and it's time.

I'll still be receiving the same chemotherapy cocktail, with the same two week cycle, and the same take home bottle. I am not excited, or looking forward to it, but at least I know exactly what to expect this time around.

I asked about future chemotherapies. There are an additional two varieties of chemotherapy regularly used for colon cancer (which is what I'm being treated for, although I have the related appendix cancer), I don't remember much about the third, but the second is largely similar to what I've been on so far, side effect wise. For me, it's comforting to know that the expected time my treatment options will last is longer than my prognosis, so I shouldn't have to worry about pain.

In the next month I need to get my broken tooth pulled, ideally quickly so it has lots of time to heal before my immune system crashes around cycle 3. I need to finally see my palliative care doctor and get those plans firmly in place. I need to get legal stuff in order. I need a port installed and my PICC removed. And I have one more day trip to make.

Trips & Treatment

This set of photos was taken over the past month.

I can't remember if I've said anything about the CT scan I got a few weeks ago, or the blood work I had done before I left for Bancroft, but that has happened, and it's time to see my oncologist. The appointment is tomorrow afternoon.

I don't have a good understanding of how people think I'm doing. I know I've been pretty vocal about how the surgical recovery has been going (very well, overall, but further gains are likely to be small, although its possible I don't yet know my capacity in some regards). But I have been less vocal (I think) about cancer symptoms.

I haven't been able to sleep through a night in weeks. I'll wake up, with my guts feeling like their solid, in the middle of the night. Sometimes water makes me have to use the bathroom with urgency. Sometimes it makes me throw up for a half an hour. Either way, sometimes I can get back to sleep, sometimes I doze until noon.

The list of things my dietician recommended I avoid a month or two ago has become largely mandatory. The small amount of coleslaw you get with fish and chips is usually fine, but salad or a helping of broccoli is a mistake. Fish never seems to be a problem, chicken is fine unless fried, and most red meat should be avoided. These rules must be followed exactly when far from home, or if I want to travel the next day, but can still be relaxed a bit if I'm staying in the Midland area.

The combination of chemotherapy and sleeplessness, at least, have left me extremely forgetful, clumsy and sluggish. I keep losing my keys. I've forgotten how to do basic computer stuff I've known for decades (or have tried to do it the Windows 95 way). I cannot focus on books, even though I got a fun adult book about dinosaurs from the library. My cooking abilities, long atrophied by years of deep depression, can't manage with my boring diet, tiny kitchenette and lack of energy to do dishes or other chores.

There are pains. Pains in places I especially don't want them, places that might indicate tumor growth (but probably not spread). But are they the sort that predate all this? I can't remember. I'll bring them up.

I'm extremely tired. I'm not particularly jazzed about continuing to do this. I've grown more and more convinced that the Bancroft trip is my post surgery peak, and that it's slow decline from here on. Those sort of thoughts are the way of madness, but the nature of the recovery and the disease means there will exist a peak or plateau.

Two weeks ago I was pretty certain I would not be restarting chemotherapy this time. The CT scan report only reinforces this conclusion. But the last few weeks have been rough, and I'm a lot less sure now.

<figcaptionHuntsville sculpture forest

From the comments

James Petrosky: When I started, I had many reasons to take my selfies, but I was pretty certain they weren't for me. I have no idea if they were then, I don't have access to that brain state. They're absolutely, in part, for me now

James Petrosky: I took a drive, ate a shawarma, almost ate some additional Taco Bell (the line was too long), had a nice drive until I met a raccoon, found a potential corn maze that's very close, and feel a bit better. It's hard to make yourself eat when your stomach is off, even when you know it'll make you feel better. And I need to try harder to get out of the apartment every day, even for a little walk, even if it's hard once the October storms come and it's always so rainy. None of these steps solve anything, but it isn't about solutions, it's a about comfort. For that reason, I'm happy to see my oncologist tomorrow. I get to do a trip to Barrie, I get to talk to people and be around people who, sadly, understand my situation. I get to go for pho after, which is damn near the perfect food for if you're chronically underhydrated like me.
I don't like chemotherapy, but I like trips and cats and people, so if it's time for it, then I look forward to quiet days laying in bed watching old noirs.

Pre-chemo restart blood work

There's no memento mori quite like walking into a cancer centre at 0800 on a Monday

From the comments

James Petrosky: At least I'm the youngest one here by a decade or two. All you alls are allowed to be saddened by that on my behalf, but it's so much easier for me

Don't worry about me, death causes me a lot less mental anguish than the fact that I need to do a urine test in half an hour but really, really need to pee now

Ending cycle 2

Cycle 2 Day 14

I spent a few hours at the cancer centre today, having my once per cycle checkup with the oncologist, and getting blood drawn to monitor a few things, most importantly to me immune system counts (mine are pretty good, given my situation). While there I once again browsed the library of pamphlets. I counted twenty five different specific cancer type pamphlets, only four had photos of people who might have been my age. Three of the four were reproductive cancers. The remainder, including colon, featured people decades older.

I'm very tired, my mood has fallen a bit, but I'm ready to start Cycle 3.

There are a lot of tests

This was written on September 4th, 2022

A lot of new tests had been scheduled, I knew I was driving five hours to Elliott Lake the next day and was dreading it. I'd been planning this visit for months (it got changed up a bit because I got Covid-19, and then again the day before, because I no longer had the energy for big trips and now needed to be nearer an emergency room I didn't think Chapleau could provide)