The Road Ahead

Well, the good news is my daily cardio has been keeping the barfing at bay and yesterday, I just completed my 10th radiation session.  Two weeks done!  Only three weeks of chemo and radiation left.

I still feel happy about being on the chemo pills instead of that bottle setup.  Life is much better and, since I only have radiation Monday to Friday, it means I don't have to take the chemo pills on the weekend.  Oddly enough, the bottle was 24/7.  Likely due to it's complexity of unhooking and reattaching it.



The road ahead won't be nearly as much fun as this. 
Likely no motorcycling for me this spring.



A weird occurrence at radiation yesterday.  I finally got a morning appointment but they were about 45 mins late on my 8:20am time slot.  One of the radiation girls noticed me leaving the washroom and asked me if I still had a full bladder.  Nope.  "Well, it's a requirement."  What????

I've had 9 sessions of 25 and apparently, I had to have a full bladder to minimize damage to my bowel.  Wow.  I was really disappointed to find that out now and I thanked the girl for noticing and bringing it up otherwise I would have gone the full 5 weeks without knowing.

It's really too bad because my whole treatment was delayed one week as they didn't like the CT Scans I did in that department.  The reason: I didn't have a full bladder.  Please tell me!  I've done many tests during December as this cancer was fully investigated and I've prepped accordingly.  It ain't too hard to drink half a litre of water beforehand.

There's a trick to having a full bladder in the waiting room while your appointment is either on time or half an hour or an hour late.  I don't know what the trick is yet but I'll have plenty of opportunity to refine the skill. 

Once three more weeks go buy, I rest and, contrary to what I thought, radiation keeps acting on the affect parts.  I don't have a surgery date yet but it'll be about 6 to 8 weeks after the last Feb 17th radiation.  Once I have surgery in April, I will get a colostomy.

The bad news is, our 2nd opinion consultation happened on Wednesday, Dr. Boushey from the Ottawa General, and the 2nd opinion is the same as the 1st opinion.  My colostomy will be permanent.  Dr. Boushey also alarmed me by saying that means no heavy lifting.  That really bothered me.  Images flashed through my head instantly of pulling a dirt bike out of the mud, waterskiing, carrying a canoe and packs on my back, doing weights at the gym.  I'll have to research this and maybe the limitations won't be that bad or I can work around it.

This whole cancer thing has been disappointing.  I haven't had any "Why me" moments, but disappointment is probably the best way to describe it.  I don't drink, smoke or even drink coffee.  I've been a vegetarian for 23 years.  I exercise and, although I've been 10 lbs overweight for the last 10 years, I've stayed pretty fit.  The last two years my cardio has excelled as I changed jobs and fell in love with bicycle commuting daily, rain or shine, from April 1st to late October.  The morning pedal included pedalling up a 15 storey hill (I thought it was only 8 stories until a friend measured it).  I think it's pretty obvious--bicycle seats cause cancer.

The idea that the colostomy will be permanent adds to the disappointment but I temper that with the fact that at least it's me with the cancer and my wife and kids are okay.  I'd much rather have it than them.

After surgery, I will have the PICC line reinstalled and I'll be back on the chemo bottle but it looks like it'll only be for two days of bottle every three weeks.  This plan will be refined as we get into May or June but right now I'm told I'll be on chemo for five or six months.  That will bring me to November or December 2012.  This whole year will be filled up with cancer treatment.  I truly hope to be back at work by early December for my 42nd birthday but we'll see what the year brings.



"FIRE ZE LAZER!!!!"

Radiation Treatment.

I'm undergoing radiation treatment five days a week (Monday to Friday) concurrent with chemotherapy for five weeks.  It's actually good news because I was told initially it would be six weeks but the fact is it's five weeks.  I've done 1.4 weeks already.  I can't wait for the end.

I get my radiation at the Ottawa General Hospital and I have to show up daily for my pre-scheduled appointment.  So far, my appointments are all over the map.  My dream of having morning sessions and going to work right after fell off the page when I got my first radiation dose after my first chemo.  I couldn't get out of bed without feeling like barfing.

The last few days, however, have been better.  The queasiness has subsided so I'll take that as a good day.

The Radiation machine and bed that I lie face down on.  As soon as I see this bed, I drop my pants.  Underwear follows.  Dignity is left at the entry door to the hospital.

The radiation appointments have been going well so far, now that I've been properly set up.  Before radiation and chemo began, I had a CT scan of my pelvis which, of course, involved hoses and fluids going into some unmentionable part of my body (not the ears) and then the technicians gave me some tattoos as a benchmark on the sides of my ass and on the back of my ass up high.  These tattoos are, well, tattoos.  They're permanent.  Small dots, really.  This is required for the technicians to line up the radiation beam so a dose will hit the required area at the desired angles.




Radiation beams come from the middle of this black thingy.




Targetting on my pillow.  Insert backside here.

 My first session last week was not 15 minutes.  It was 3.5 hours.  Basically, they weren't happy with the small dots I got tattooed on my ass.  In the end, they did it properly and remarked me.  They didn't mess around and got out the green Sharpie marker and put new targets on my ass.  It's just a Sharpie so they covered them in waterproof tape.  Now, they're satisfied with the marks and all is going well.  The techs are able to set me up properly and easily once I lower my underwear.  The sessions are only taking about 15 minutes each.



New target marks on my backside to replace
small tattoo dots.  I'll keep my pants raised
when around the rifle ranges...

 I think the radiation is working.  In fact, I know it is.  I don't know how this stuff was discovered but I like it.  I don't feel any burning or any changes for my 3 straight minutes of beam zapping but within about an hour after the treatment, I need to nap.  And I sleep like the dead.

One of my problems last year before I knew I had cancer was I was constipated.  The constipation started January 2011.  Then some bleeding followed.  A month or two later I was really agitated with this so I went to an Urgent Care clinic.  I was misdiagnosed.  I was told I had hemorrhoids.  I had to look them up to see what the heck that was.

In the summer that followed, the agitation did not suppress, and, despite blowing my brains out on bran, the constipation only worsened.  My wife scheduled a colonoscopy for me.

In November 2011, by some strange turn of events, we had to drive 600 kms to Kitchener to get the goddamned colonoscopy.  I'm glad we did.  The waiting would soon be over to see why these hemorrhoids were such a pain.

The doctor who performed the scope was very bothered by what he saw and feared cancer. 

In the weeks that followed, more testing ensued and then a formal diagnosis.  I've been diagnosed with Stage 3 Colorectal Cancer.  I've been told I will lose my sphincter muscle and, as a result, my asshole.  Hmm...I'm kindof attached to that...

That was around the time the pain started.  The Kitchener doctor was suprised I wasn't in pain already but within a week or two, the pain started.  I was still constipated but now it was clear as to why---there was a tumour at the exit door and it was blocking the escape.  Ain't no one was getting out.

Many times a day I would visit the bathroom and have the smallest of bowel movements.  It was painful.  It felt like shitting a pine cone.  And the pain continued after that the rest of the day until the next attempt.  It felt like, well, I just shat a pine cone.  That continued until the radiation last week.

I'd say on Day 3 of radiation, I started to have pain-free bowel movements.  The next day, I was on the pills and got rid of the bottle and PICC line.  Things were good. 

I asked the radiation doctor today why the lack of pain and he explained that the tumour likely was shrinking.  Likely because he wasn't checking.  If it was gone entirely, I was still getting five weeks of radiation to ensure cancer-free as much as possible.  95% of the patients respond best to this dose of radiation for my situation so that's what they're doing.

As the radiation doctor, Dr. Kendall, terms it, they're frying my ass.  He was happy that my ass hasn't felt like it's on fire yet but it might in a few days.  Great.

I do this for the full five weeks and then I rest for 6 to 8 weeks before surgery.  As Dr. Kendall says, in that time, I'm still cooking.  Hmm...nice thought.  I hope I can walk...

At any rate, I don't know how many doctors died on the way to discovering the radiation treatments but they seem to be working.  The dream is miracles will happen during chemo and radiation and the course of surgery in April will be steered towards a sphincter-saving solution.

Book in the Mail

Hmm...I've just had my daily nap and I feel better.  Friday, Saturday and today (Sunday) have been good days.  I feel 80% and the queasiness has subsided.  A friend of mine who has just recovered from Ovarian Cancer and has returned to work alongside me just as I exited work last week, reminded me to exercise.  It helps with the nausea.  I did a light cardio stint the last two days and I feel good.  Thanks Sarah!

On Friday, I got a book in the mail from a motorcycle friend.  Thanks Tony!! 


Recommended Cancer reading from Tony


Tony Hendricks was diagnosed with Leukemia a few months before I got a diagnosis.  I know Tony and his wife Lynda through a BMW motorcycle street riding course that I used to help teach at  the Calabogie racetrack.  Great people in their early fifties that have been affected by Tony's cancer developments.  At any rate, Tony is on the mend and is having a bone marrow transplant on Jan 26th.  I bumped into Lynda in the cancer parking lot a few days ago and she was telling me that transplant recipients are not allowed to live beyond a certain radius of the hospital.  Since they live in Perth (about 90 kms from the hospital), they have had to rent an apartment in Ottawa.  She admits it did take two hours to get to the hospital from Perth a couple of days ago in the snowstorm. 

That sucks but she pointed out the bright side that they rented a place by the canal so they hope to enjoy the area for the next year as Tony recovers from the operation.  Good luck Tony and thanks for the book!   If you liked it as much as you say, I'm sure I'll love it.

I'M OFF THE BOTTLE!!!

I like dizziness

My chemo doctor, Dr. Goodwin, had some great news for me.  I've been approved for health plan coverage for the chemo pills.  She first mentioned this as a possibility at our first meeting in December but I dismissed it as a pipedream when I got the PICC line inserted last Friday.  Then, on Monday afternoon came the chemo bottle and I figured that was that.

This was my first appointment without The Wife.  Erinn, upon hearing of this, was immediately suspicious.  Was I weaseling out of this stupid bottle?  Who brought this up?  Was I begging to be put on the pills?  She made phone calls to the hospital to check up on my story.  Her girlfriend, Shannon, a hospital administrator at CHEO (Children's Hospital of Eastern Ontario) reacted the same way.   Patty cannot be trusted.  Erinn was a tech-company accountant and with her girlfriend working in a hospital, I'm badly outclassed.  They're pretty much doctors themselves.  My recount of what my doctor told me has to be verified if The Wife wasn't there.

Well, no more!  I gots me my pills and went to the hospital this morning to have the PICC line and bottle removed.  I had to bring the pills as proof so they could remove the line.  I felt instantly free.  I went home to celebrate with a nap or a shower.  The nap won.  The shower came after the nap.


Funny thing about napping, I've been doing a lot of it.  I woke up in the afternoon to eat some lunch and head back to the hospital for my daily radiation zap.  I left feeling good and able to do up the car seatbelt without worrying about pinching my chemo bottle.  By the time I got home, I needed to sleep.  And I slept like the dead.  Erinn woke me for supper but I was groggy all through supper.  Back to bed for my third nap of the day.  How does one get anything done???  I have no time!  Must nap!!

Maggie and Kate at the cottage

It's just as well that the bottle is gone.  Last night I was awake and Erinn headed out for a couple of hours to get a break while I looked after the kids.  My bottle, being piped into me all the time, was an accident waiting to happen.  Maggie (3) and Kate (5) each surprised me by grabbing my waistband bottle bag and hanging off it.  I've had to protect my arm where the line goes in cause they like jumping on daddy.




I don't understand how the dollars are compared between the PICC chemo bottle feed and the pills.  I'm told by Dr. Goodwin that both work but one is difficult to get coverage for.  The PICC line to me seems very expensive.  I had the line installed in a hospital.  The following day I visited a medical clinic so the line could be inspected and the dressing changed.  Three days later the bottle was inserted to the line in a hospital.  Accessories given.  A courier delivered one box of supplies to our house.  The next day, Tuesday, a home care nurse came over to inspect the chemo bottle, change the dressings and follow up with more instructions.  It was a one hour visit.  As I left for radiation, another courier came to the door and delivered six more boxes of PICC line supplies.  Wow.  The system works and events, so far, have been well coordinated, but I don't know if all these expenses are considered.  Those pills have to be rather expensive to eclipse the true cost of the bottle. 


Add the cost of freedom sans bottle---priceless!!!

Cancer Treatment

My cancer treatment has finally started.  After being diagnosed in late November 2011, on January 16, 2012, I finally got hooked up to a permanent chemo flow and radiation zaps five days a week.

The chemo treatment is 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  This is accomplished by piping it into me on a continuous basis.  The chemo itself is a dangerous combination of drugs that kills my veins and will involve a hazmat team if I spill it (except, as the nurses say, I'm the hazmat team).

To run the chemo into me, they've inserted a PICC line (peripherally inserted central catheter line) into the inside of my right bicep and it travels about a foot or so into my body, across my chest to my heart.  Technically, it stops about 3 mm shy of my heart.  The idea is that the chemicals can travel into my body without destroying the veins.  Upon release from this line right at the heart, the chemicals get immediately diluted, sucked up by the heart and distributed throughout my body.

I don't think they need to go everywhere but that's just how blood distribution works.  The chemicals are being used now to make the cells more receptive to radiation.  That's why I'm on chemo.

I carry a bottle of one week's supply of chemo chemicals on my hip like a less-than-enthusiastic jogger from the Running Room.  I wear it everywhere and it interferes with everything.  I eat meals with it, I sleep with it, I shower with it without getting it wet.  It's a pain in the ass. 

Radiation appointments are to be 15 minutes each.  My first radiation was right after they hooked me up with the chemo bottle on Monday.  It took longer.  It took 3.5 hours.  They weren't happy with the tattoo alignment marks I received two weeks before (a repeated CT test which ended up delaying my treatment by a whole week).  I was worried they'd pull the plug and delay my treatment yet again.  I thanked them for their perseverance.

There are many possible side effects with radiation and many with chemo.

One of the big ones is a result of having both chemo and radiation occur at the same time.  It's diarrhea.  A lethal combination of it.  I worry about that one.  Sounds like it'll land me in the hospital if it hits hard.  Yay!

Right now, the treatment has me very tired and queasy.  I haven't thrown up yet but my stomach is often unsettled and I'm sleeping all the time.  If I'm awake, I'm groggy.  I'm at the hospital daily and I asked both the chemo and radiation people about this fatigue and they each blamed the opposite--chemo said it was the radiation and radiation said it was the chemo.  It's probably both.