Surviving Two Cancers – Couldausedanotherday

Bug Zapper Syndrome

I’ve been getting my bi-weekly low dose chemo shots for a while now. The shots produce a few routine side effects during the first couple days; the itchy red spot, chills, feeling more tired than usual, and the bug zapper syndrome.

With the bug zapper syndrome, I feel like an electrical jolt has been generated from within and lightly shocks my body. It feels like what a bug zapper sounds like (ZZT!), kind of a random internal lightning strike.

If all is quiet, I think I hear it in my ears. Some days it will discharge repeatedly before tapering off. I do remember experiencing this zapping a few times long before I ever had chemo. Has anyone else had it?

Next week I meet the plastic surgeon who will do the repair after the skin cancer is removed in mid November.

Real Good News Today

I stopped in for my monthly Oncologist visit and a quick (bi-weekly) shot in the chemo lounge – they have Velcade on tap.

Test results and news from the doc isn’t always good, but you take what you get and do the best you can with it.

Today I received very good news. The two main Multiple Myeloma cancer indicators the doc monitors are Light Chains and M-Protein. She said my Light Chains currently are “perfectly normal” and my M-Protein is undetectable (normal).

The trend towards normal began in June. She also noted that I’m approaching one year of low dose chemo treatments. She said two years of this is the standard prescription. If things go well, I won’t be taking it the rest of my life.

I have a friend, Dave, who just had cancer surgery and will likely have radiation, and a friend, Diane, who is waiting for biopsy results. I wish I could share this report with them. I don’t mean share the news, I wish them similar results.

Thank you for your continuing prayers and support. I remain grateful to God for my every blessing.

Time Is Speeding

I am really enjoying this summer and this partial remission. Time is speeding, and so am I. I’m rushing to do what I can while I am able. I got a few things done since my last posting here and a few more things nearly done.

How do I feel? I feel the best that I have since starting this cancer journey. Last week I had my 3 ½ year post prostate surgery check up. The PSA test came back with the word I love to hear, undetectable.

I was showing my urologist the chemouflage on my stomach from the bi-weekly Velcade shots and also my turkey timer belly button, a result of surgery he performed.

He said, “That belly button can be fixed, but it’s another surgery.” I told him my thought about tattooing an eyeball on it.

He liked the idea but said it would be even better if I tattooed a fish on my stomach (motioning vertically with his hand) and let that be the fish eye. We agree that either tattoo would cost much less than surgery.

*Robin and Kellen, I think I see a resemblance here.*

This summer our younger son, daughter-in-law, and grandson stayed with us for a while.

During that time, we watched Kellen go from almost crawling to crawling almost everywhere.

I asked Diane if we could make him some chaps and gloves out of dust mop material.

We got to spend a week with them and extended family at Seaside. It was a wonderful vacation.

I put a complete set of Dakota gauges in the Chevy. The speedometer broke for the third time (in ten years, that’s not bad for a 57 year old car) and it was time for a more permanent and programmable fix.

I was able to attend an event this summer where I love to take a rare, special kind of picture. They are low light, slow shutter speed, moving target, and moving camera photos.

Diane and I remain thankful for your prayers and kind words and eternally grateful to God for our every blessing.

One Year

I’ve heard it said and know it’s true that time flies when you’re having fun. It could also be said that time flies when you’re having cancer.

Once you get out of that early recovery period where time does not fly, it soon hits a pace I would like to slow. I would like to throw a net over it as it races past and drag it down so I could explain that there is no hurry now.

Well, maybe there’s a bit of a hurry to get things done before the cancer makes its move.

Today marks one year since my stem cell transplant. Last July first was my, “day zero,” the day I receive the infusion, the fourth day of my two week hospital stay. I woke up this morning feeling pretty good about putting the year behind me.

I’ve recovered from the transplant with few lasting side effects, and am enjoying partial remission. I get to be here with my wife, Diane, I get to go to work every day, I’ve completed some projects around home, and I got to meet my grandson. Life is good.

Before I checked into the cancer treatment center in Portland, Diane and I met with a nurse. Her name was Sarah, and she was going to be our official guide through this process. She laid out the game plan, answered questions, gathered signatures, and issued documents including my personal calendar and schedule.

I didn’t see her after I checked into the hospital, but we spoke several times on the phone when I returned home. Except in an emergency she was to be my contact person. I would call and ask her if Diane and I could go to a movie or to Kaydia’s birthday party and she would remind me that it was too soon for that kind of exposure.

I kept her business card, and after a few months, I called to tell her my recovery was progressing well. I called her again today to tell her about the one year anniversary, and that I remember her kindness. After a moment, the lady who answered her extension said, “I’m sorry. Sarah was diagnosed with cancer in January and died in May.”