Disappeared

It is with tremendous gratitude and much joy that I can report the pathology results from my recent tests show that my “lymphoma has disappeared.”   As hoped for and expected everything is clear.

The results came to me today, Sunday afternoon, in New Jersey.   We are in the middle of a marathon trip “welcome weekend” for my wife as she prepares to begin her new job as the rabbi of Congregation B’nai Israel in Emerson.  She led services, fielded questions, taught religious school, attended meetings, and was honored at a dinner dance Saturday night.  

At the B'nai Israel dinner-dance last night.

Tomorrow she does media interviews and attends more meetings.   All four of us were staying with friends in nearby Teaneck, and we returned “home” Sunday afternoon exhausted – and girding ourselves for more busy days ahead.  We all headed for naps, and when I rose, I picked up a message on my cell phone.  

It was my gastroenterologist.  I had an endoscopy last Tuesday and was scheduled to meet with the oncologist for results on June 3.   The message from my gastroenterologist began “I just received the pathology results, and I felt it warranted a Sunday call.”   This opening, in and of itself, was not necessarily the sunny weekend interruption I was hoping for, but he quickly went on to relay the very good news that the tests were clear and that all evidence of lymphoma has disappeared.

I may get a more complete and nuanced analysis from the oncologist when I see him, but I’m, of course, feeling terrific.  In truth, I feel mostly just confirmed in my own beliefs and expectations.  I would have been surprised to hear anything else. 

So the expectation is that for the next couple of years, I will continue to get periodic endoscopic exams as my condition is monitored.  As we are moving to New Jersey in less than a month, that work is likely to be performed on the east coast.  My California doctors have given me referrals to a local New Jersey general oncologist and an eminent specialist at Sloan Kettering Cancer Center in NYC.   I will be well looked-after.

My only concerns over the last couple of months have been the possible effects of the tremendous stress we have been under as we sold our California house, bought a home in New Jersey, said goodbye to friends & colleagues in Los Angeles, and started the multi-faceted process of moving.  Debby’s new congregation seems very warm, welcoming, and tremendously excited to have her there.  I’m not sure yet what I’ll be doing or where my career will take me.  It’s possible the China film I was working on will come back to life.  I’m talking with a university here about teaching as an adjunct in their film program, and I’m in touch with a growing circle of colleagues in New York.  Then again, after our adventures in real estate lately, I’ve thought that that might be a field I could thrive in. 

The new house (cross-your-fingers) on Bennett Rd. in Teaneck, NJ.

We hopefully get to move in sometime in July.

I’m cultivating an openness to new directions, and I am very eager to put my full energy and health into new pursuits.   This may be the last chapter of this particular blog, but I look forward to being in touch and keeping up with you on life’s new adventures.

Thanks again to all of you for your prayers, warm wishes, and amazing support during this all-but-ended episode.

Nothin' Doing

Mmm. Broccoli.

After a morning of de-stressing with acupuncture and massage, I showed up at the oncologist’s office in a rather jovial mood.  As usual, they whisked me right into an exam room, this time bypassing the lab, and the doctor arrived almost immediately.

He went over what the gastro doctor had said, adding detail.   My original diagnosis had been somewhat large and in multiple sites in my stomach.  What the recent endoscopy found was a small region that still carries lymphoma cells.  It’s such a small region that the PET scan didn’t detect it.   Nevertheless, there is something there, and there are several possible paths forward.

The oncologist affirmed that he originally had said it would take six months for the lymphoma to reduce to “undetectable” amounts. (They don’t say “cancer free” anymore because we all have cancer cells in us.  It’s just that we usually have very few, and our immune system takes care of them.)   So one possible path is to do – pretty much nothing - just monitor my blood levels and repeat the biopsies in three months.   What I have is an indolent, slow-growing condition. So, even if the remaining lymphoma has resisted radiation and is growing again, that growth is likely to be minimal, and the treatment in three months is the same thing he would do now. 

That treatment, the aggressive approach now, would be to do more radiation and/or use the drug retuxan, a non-chemotherapy anti-cancer agent that has been around for a long time, something he had mentioned earlier in my diagnosis.  

He left it to me to decide, although he said he would opt for the wait-and-see approach with one added element.  Even though I tested negative for the H pylori bacteria, which is usually associated with my condition, he thinks there is the possibility of a false negative.  So he would put me on a two-week course of a special antibiotic, which might hasten the shrinkage of the lymphoma.  I agreed to this course of action in which, as he explained, we are now waiting for my immune system to do its job.

So I’ll go back to weekly acupuncture and look into any other immune system boosting foods and activities.  Debby and I left the doctor and headed to Newsroom Café for a ginger-wheatgrass-spirulina-bee pollen- mango - and banana shake. Mmmm.  If you’ve got diet/activity suggestions or want to join me for a green drink or some exercise, I’d love to have the company.

A little something more

 

These are pictures from the inside of my stomach.  Fun?

It's been an anxious month of waiting (nothing new) as I planned and then had an endoscopy and colonoscopy to confirm results from the PET scans. The scans had seen nothing in my stomach or in my small intestine and shown some mysterious "activity" in my lower bowel.

The visual inspection of my stomach and colon was good.  While I still have evidence of a hernia and did show a little scarring consistent with radiation therapy, there was nothing else of note visually.  The procedure itself was uneventful. 

I received the pathology report this morning. Everything in my colon was negative, but in my stomach they did find a small piece of MALT lymphoma remaining.  It's unclear what the next course of action will be.   Originally, I was told they wanted to wait six months before doing the follow-up endoscopy because it just takes that long for the radiation to work fully.  They did the endoscopy after three months because of the mysterious "activity" in my bowel.   So the course of action may well be to do nothing and repeat the biopsies in six months.   Alternatively, there is an antibiotic treatment that may be indicated.  There may be a small dose chemotherapy agent indicated.  They may want to do more radiation -- or some combination of these.

I got this information from the gastro doctor who did the biopsies.  He had limited information and referred me back to the oncologist, whom I will see Wednesday afternoon.  So more information should be forthcoming then.  In any case, the mass is a slow growing (or slow-shrinking) issue, and there are still many tools available.  So, while disappointed in the moment, I remain confident of a full recovery.

I confess to being perhaps overly optimistic and to backsliding on my diet and self-care in recent weeks.  So it's time to get back on the horse of aggressively healthful nutrition, more regular exercise, and more spiritual focus on my own healing.  I invite participation from friends and family on all three counts.  Thanks. 

Encouraging News

Happy New Year! 

Today – to the sounds of a famous Mozart piece – I had my follow-up CT and PET scans to track the effect of the treatment thus far.   It is not unusual for the treatment to take up to six months to eradicate the errant tissue.   So this is generally a first look to see some initial movement in a positive direction.

While the medical staff at Tower Oncology is still prompt, courteous, and top-notch in all ways one might judge a medical facility, the process of these scans is not pleasant. Having ceased exercise for 48 hours, given up carbs & sugar for 24 hours, and fasted since breakfast, I was in a restless mood already when they handed me the first of my Grande, berry-flavored barium shakes. Three different people asked me what flavor I wanted from a choice of banana, orange, mint, berry, and mochaccino. Honestly, I can’t imagine it makes a difference. The stuff is ghastly.

As I finished downing my first liter, they shot me up with the radioactive dye and deposited my radiant self in a private waiting room to complete downing a second liter of barium. Then, filled with radioactive iodine, I was directed into the scan room and left to lay still for the 40-minute scan process. I was woozy, bloated, and irritable as I left the facility to join Debby for the special weekday treat of lunch and a movie.  Some decent food lifted my mood. As before, I was deemed still too radioactive to be around small children for about six hours.

I have an appointment with the oncologist next week, but in the middle of the movie he called to give me some preliminary results. While some blood tests have not yet come back and more study of some results is warranted, the CAT scan, which shows anatomy, came back completely negative. This is good news, and not entirely surprising as the CAT scan I had right before starting radiation treatment was also negative.

The PET scan was negative in the area of my stomach as well as in the lower intestine area that previously had lit up with mysterious “activity.” More good news. The doctor would not say that the MALT is already completely gone as biopsies are necessary to confirm this, but it is certainly encouraging. The PET scan did, however, light up in a new area in my lower bowel. This could mean there is cancerous activity; it could mean I have some minor inflammation or infection, or it could have another explanation. It is not conclusive, and, at least at this time, not of terrible concern to the oncologist. He will wait for all the data to come in and to consult with my gastro dr. I think it’s likely I have a colonoscopy in my future. That fancy double-balloon procedure is not indicated at this time.

Through this process I have been a believer in pursuing and receiving all forms of healing. Whether there is quantitative proof of value or not, I can say that all the energy, prayers, and generosity of friends, have lifted my spirits. If you are open to the possibility that there is power in “spirits” in either physical or psychological ways, then these efforts have been extremely powerful for me. I am living on a loving plane of gratitude for all that I have received. Thank you all. May I be a river to pass on this bounty of healing energy to all of you.

More news soon . . .

Treatment and Beyond

(Watching football with Hannah Mathilda)

So I finished radiation treatment a week and half ago.   Other than the inconvenience of going to the facility every weekday for four weeks – about a half-hour each time + twenty minutes travel, the impact of the treatment period was pretty tolerable.  I continued eating well and actually joined a gym to pump up my strength.  I enjoyed a second and very powerful healing ceremony offered by members of our synagogue.  I think it all helps, and I value greatly all the prayers, books, meals, and good wishes that friends offer on my behalf.

Toward the end of the treatment period, the cumulative effects of the radiation did start to take their toll in the form of a pointed kind of fatigue that would hit me in the afternoons.   So I took naps, and that really balanced it out.  Finally, over the last couple days, I am feeling my energy return.

And so, moving on . . . I have a check-up after Thanksgiving at which time we will schedule that follow-up PET/CT scan.   They don’t expect to see much change in my stomach yet.  The effects of the radiation won’t be fully apparent for six months.  However, it will be telling to see if the activity in my lower intestine reappears.  If nothing shows up there – as we all expect – then I’m mostly in the clear for the time being.  My radiologist suggested that, if the scan is negative now, when I do have the endoscopy at the six-month interval, I actually should have the double-balloon endoscopy procedure just to be sure about what initially showed up in the first scan.   Here is an interesting animation showing how this new technology operates (I only get a little cramped watching this): DBE Animation

We’ll be up the Bay Area over Thanksgiving, and I look forward to reconnecting in person with family and friends up there.  I’m keenly attuned to the theme of gratitude as we enter this holiday season.   I’ve received so much good energy, and I send along the bounty to all of you.

Plodding Along

Well, 14 down, 6 more to go.    I’m most of the way through my radiation treatment, and it has been largely uneventful.  I’m very thankful.  The radiology office continues to be so prompt and courteous that, while I may enter with some trepidation, I always leave with a positive spring in my step.  And my check-up with the oncologist was similarly brief and encouraging.   The photos are of the nursing staff on Halloween afternoon.

They say that, if I am to feel any effects from the radiation, it will be from the cumulative impact; so it is likely that in the last week and the weeks following treatment that I may feel some queasiness or fatigue.   I already have made a point to add a rest period to my days, and I think I am now just starting to feel the “phasers-on-stun” effect of the treatment.   My appetite is still good, and I have had no skin irritation at all.  In the afternoons I am just feeling a little tired.

Of course, the whole issue of the “activity” in my lower intestine is the quiet elephant in the room.   It may be that follow-up tests show it to be nothing.   It may be that those tests trigger more involved treatment – or I may still need that double-balloon endoscopy.  We won't know for several weeks.  I think I’m going to get on the waiting list for that procedure just in case.

And it wouldn’t be medical journey without at least a little drama; so here is the latest installment:  At the beginning of this whole episode we decided that I should get a second opinion – just to be safe.  Since my doctor is already an eminent specialist, we thought it only makes sense to get a second opinion from another “MDeity.”   That search led us locally to the head doctor at the City of Hope cancer center in Duarte.  

It took a while to get files from all the various doctors and labs sent to City of Hope.  One lab said they had to prepare new pathology slides and that it would take a few days.   It took them only two days – except they never called me to say the slides were ready.   So that delayed things another week.   To expedite the paperwork, I drove over to the lab and hand-carried the slides out to Duarte.

Meanwhile, City of Hope told me that I simply couldn’t see the doctor I wanted.  Luckily, both my oncologist and my radiologist know the doc at City of Hope.   My oncologist thought it would be a good idea for me to see him, and he called and spoke to the guy personally on my behalf.   I was told to await a scheduling call.   After some phone tag, however, I was notified that this guy still wouldn’t see me – and that the specialist he referred me to is on vacation for a month.   And now my oncologist was out of town on a convention.  So . . . do I try to chase down this doctor who twice has refused to see me?  Do I settle for a second opinion from a competent but un- “deified” specialist?  My oncologist’s office says they are going to chase down the reason for the refusal and find me a solution.

So I continue (mostly) with my diet, save for a detour to a fabulous steakhouse and falling off the wagon at a kids’ birthday party where I stuffed myself with bagels & pizza.  I’m definitely going to need some new pants at a svelter size. 

(Me with Hannah Mathilda (3) and Emmett (5) in the background)

The intuitive healer suggested I get checked for parasites and microbes, but that all turned out negative.  I’m buoyed by so many peoples prayers, meals, good wishes, and other healing efforts.   I appreciate it all.  Tonight I’m off to another wonderful healing ceremony which I hope will keep the good momentum going.

Radiant

As the sounds of The Rolling Stones’ Let It Bleed warbled from the sound system, I underwent my first session of radiation treatment Thursday.  It was blessedly uneventful.

We arrived early and a little anxious.  The radiology office truly put us at ease, addressing me by name with a smile as I entered the building.  Pretty much right on time, a technician ushered us back to one of their two radiation rooms.  We grabbed a couple quick snaps of the enormous machine in the center; I doffed my shirt and then took my position laying on the tray.  Turns out I am not laying in a cast but just on this tray with handles, exactly like the tray used for the previous week’s CT scan – so I assume the exact same position.  The technicians then aligned my body with positioning lasers aimed at the tattoo dots I received last week.  Then everyone left the room.

“Well, we all need someone we can lean on . . .” sang Mick Jagger as the giant machine came to life.  The tray raised me up and a little closer to the machine’s axis, while two x-ray wings on the sides folded inwards toward me.   The whole machine then slowly orbited around me a couple times.   They were doing a couple x-ray scans to make sure I was aligned precisely right.  Then  . . I . . waited on the slab, er, “tray” while they retrieved the radiologist to the control room to approve my positioning.  Finally ready, they commenced.  The x-ray wings folded back, and the machine gave out a loud, vibrating hum.   The irradiating head made two orbits around me of about 40 seconds each.   I may have felt a small amount of heat, and I strained my eyes to see the fan blades inside the machine adjusting slightly as it turned by my front.   The hum stopped, and the machine started to reset.   That was it.    1 down, 19 more to go.

In the afternoon I had my second session of energy balancing and therapeutic massage.  It’s a little bit of counseling with an alternative bent before the bodywork begins, and it was a terrific antidote to the stress of the morning.   In the late afternoon I was tired, but it could have been from the massage, stress, or my daughter waking us up early – as much as it might have been from the treatment.  I took a rest, and by the evening I actually felt more energized than ever.   I may eventually develop fatigue from the cumulative treatment.  We’ll see.

Today’s session was much the same, although the music was some generic Sinatra knock-off I didn’t recognize.   Debra tells me it’s Michael Bublé.  (I’m out of the pop loop.)  It was followed by a quick check-up with the radiologist.   We reviewed that I will be receiving 20 sessions of 150 centigrade radiation for a cumulative dose of 3000 centigrade.  (I may not have the unit name exactly right.)   The radiation damages the DNA of the tumor cells.  When the cells grow and divide, they die.   Thus, the eradication is not instantaneous but only occurs as the tumor cells attempt to develop.   So I’ll have that follow-up PET scan in 8-10 weeks to check on progress, and then I’ll wait the 6 months before having an endoscopy to confirm that all the tumor cells are eradicated.   The radiation does affect some healthy cells in the area of the tumor, but healthy cell tissue is able to repair itself more quickly, within a few weeks.  

Interestingly, this radiation is an “oxidizing” process; so taking massive doses of healthful anti-oxidants would work against the treatment.  The radiologist did say I can eat my vegetables, but he warned against doing any unusual treatments while undergoing the radiation.   I meet with a nutritionist from his office next Tuesday, but I think I’ll put on hold the super-alkalized water I was going to place into my diet.

He also suggested that we now wait a few weeks before soliciting the second opinion.  City of Hope had “triaged” me to more junior physician, noting that the head doctor we wanted was unavailable.  My radiologist said he knows the top guy and will get me in at the proper time.  I’m still waiting for UCLA to prepare the biopsy slides I ordered last week anyway.  

And I’m feeling good, looking toward my last session on November 11.   Maybe we’ll have a party.