Bacon and Bankin'

Life expectancy would grow by leaps and bounds if green vegetables smelled as good as bacon.  ~Doug Larson (US newspaper humour columnist) 


The above quote has little or no relevance to what I'm about to write, but I like it just the same.


Then again, the correlation between life expectancy and bacon might not be so absurd after all. Think about other things that are purported to extend life expectancy - certain medications, for example. Oft times these panacea are little more than broccoli sans pancetta. 

Case in point: In recent months/weeks I've been prescribed a sizable list of medications that were meant to cure ailments I didn't actually have (e.g. Clindamycin), were not effective in treating a very real affliction (e.g. Herceptin), or proved beyond all doubt that the cure was far worse than the disease (e.g. Capecitabline and Pramidronate). Yesterday, Lapatinib and Foretinib were added to the list.

My oncologist could easily see, even without the aid of a written radiologist's report, that Monday's CT scan showed a marked change in the lesions when compared to the previous scan. As was the case with the previous study, I was removed from this Lapatinib/Foretinib trial due to lesions growing beyond the allowable parameters. The one in my trachea was among those showing most marked growth, which likely accounts for recent bouts of wheezing. In addition, there is evidence the cancer has spread into more of the lung tissue. At this point, I do not know if it is in any of my other organs (aside from the spleen which continues to play host to its own collection). The radiologist's report will clarify, but it won't be available for another week or so - allowing for typing and copying time.


Needless to say I'm a tad bummed by this news. However, aside from fatigue and a bit of wheezing (which will be greatly relieved with the help of an inhaler) I feel pretty good. The fact that Dr Lorisch has another treatment option also means I ain't done yet. Better still, her two-year prognosis of March 2009 ends in four months. She assures me I won't expire before then, and likely not for some time after. So the good news is that while they might have failed me in the end, the various treatments I've had since 2009 have certainly bought me a great deal of quality time. Reminded Dr Lorisch of my reaction to her prognosis back in 2009: "I've always worked on a five-year plan. Mind if I continue?" She laughed at the reminder, and said she is pleased to see I am keeping up my end of the bargain. 


So, what's next? Another intravenous drug treatment has been proposed, one that can be administered at St. Mary's in Sechelt. Once again, this will consist of a two-drug cocktail - Gemcitabine and Cisplatin. The treatment plan will be six chemotherapy cycles (about five months) with each cycle being three weeks in length. I'm not entirely clear how often during each cycle I get in touch with my old pal IV - literature I was given says on day 1 and day 8, one week apart but that doesn't add up to three weeks. I'm sure all will be revealed once the treatment schedule is put together. 

I've already been given prescriptions for two anti-nausea medications (the same two I had for my initial chemo treatments back in 2008), so I have a good idea of how I'll be feeling over the next while. 

Other POTENTIAL side effects: Have read that the Cisplatin can cause damage to the peripheral nerve endings. Yippee! Not!! Apparently the drug can also affect my hearing, resulting in tinnitus or loss of hearing. Provided I drink plenty of water over the two days following treatment, kidney dysfunction should be minimal. Gemcitabine will likely produce flu-like symptoms. Both drugs may cause some hair loss (thinning, but likely not total hair loss). Oh yeah, and I can look forward to mouth sores once more. Of course, all of these are only common side effects. None is guaranteed to occur, and level of severity varies from one patient to another. 

While I'm not wild about the idea of experiencing any of this, past chemo reactions have been largely mild or short-lived - with a couple of exceptions. In any case, I am not obliged to take the treatment, and can certainly halt it at any time should it be too uncomfortable. As long as I can see some benefit, I'm willing to put up with a bit of discomfort. On the other hand, if I'm unable to do the things I enjoy, I have no problem facing a future with another - possibly alternative/non-conventional type - treatment or continuing along sans medicine. There is little doubt that a time will come when nothing anyone does will help. 

So, what does the future hold? In the words of Woody Allen: "If only Gold would give me a clear sign! Like making a large deposit in my name in a Swiss bank."