4.26.12

(I hope my postings don't read like Travis Bickle's diary in Taxi Driver!)

Recently I was reading some material on colon cancer (self-absorbed reading, I know- I don't believe that one should devote his life to morbid self-attention... there's one!) and one of the items I came across was the five-year survival rates for the various stages of the disease. (Note: colon cancer is a relatively treatable and curable disease if detected early enough. However, many of the early symptoms are often difficult to detect, or even notice, absent appropriate testing. I had felt fine until the sudden onset of symptoms: You're only as healthy as you feel... Damn, there's two!) Many of the rates were relatively encouraging, relatively good... until I came across those for stage 4, my stage. For stage 4 the five-year survival rate is eight percent, meaning only eight percent of those diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer survive five years after diagnosis. While my oncologists had already discussed the median prognosis and all with me last year this knowledge nevertheless did bum me out for a few days. Until I had the enlightening- for me- realization that someone has to make up that eight percent; why the hell not me?! I do have some things working in my favor- I'm considerably younger than many colon cancer patients (age alone would skew the mortality rates somewhat higher.) Apart from the cancer I have no other/underlying health issues; except for the cancer itself I'm healthy. I maintain a pretty clean and healthy diet, I exercise, and I'm in pretty good shape physically. Just as importantly I have some truly outstanding and committed people working on my behalf, both at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center (where I receive treatment) as well as at Fenway Health (affiliated with BIDMC) where I receive my primary care (my sister and her husband also receive their primary care at Fenway. Good people.) And as I posted awhile back, one-time Presidential candidate Herman Cain was diagnosed with almost my exact same condition back in 2006, and he's still alive and kicking. Again- someone has to make up that eight percent, why shouldn't I be one of 'em?

None of this is to suggest that I'm not aware of the odds nor is it to suggest that I'm putting things off, figuring I have a slew of time to do them. It's important to live in the moment, in the now. None of us know when those may be taken away. What the above does hopefully suggest for me is that there is the possibility of more moments, more nows, than I may have anticipated and that, with the continued exemplary care from my health care team, my own efforts, and perhaps my will, those moments and nows may extend further.
(I'm tempted to say My whole life is pointed in one direction...  but anymore Taxi Driver quotes might be a little too creepy!)

4.19.12

Had my first sort of setback Wednesday. I had my routine blood work and chemo done and was informed that a key blood marker (CEA) they check to, well, check the status/progress of the treatment and the cancer had risen significantly since last month, from 81 to 167 (ideally, in a healthy adult it should be at/near zero; last August mine was at 960, so... ) It was disappointing news in that, when I met with my oncologists earlier in the day they, and I, were very pleased with the results and all thus far, telling me that, as of then, the response to the treatment had been the best-case scenario for the extent/advanced stage of the cancer, both for how it was beating back the cancer as well as my tolerance to the treatment (they also told me that I was easily their most physically fit/active patient- yeah, a little pat on the back for Vito!) and then to find out these results later in the day, a little before I was done with my chemo session, was, well, disappointing. I felt- and feel- fine; still wouldn't know that I was sick if I didn't know that I was sick. And they'll check it again in two weeks, see where it is going, if it's a pattern or a one-off kind of deal, and what to do about it. But still... disappointing.

In a way this sort of serves as a bit of a wake-up call, a prod to re-focus a bit more on getting the most out of each day. Where I've been feeling perfectly well and have had, to this point, such positive results it has made it somewhat easier to take things a bit more for granted, to not live with quite the sense of- what?- urgency, or at least of purpose, that I had back when all of this was still newly discovered and things were still sort of in flux. The past few months I've sort of, not forgotten but maybe dismissed the fact that I am on the clock as it were and that it is important to take the effort to accomplish more of the things I'd like to while there is still time and I am still well enough to do so.

So if I can get something positive out of this, then good.

4.01.12

This one is a bit introspective and ponderous- feel free to skip...

My Aunt Carol passed away last week. She was older and had been in poor health for quite awhile, with the diminished quality of life that comes from that. Nevertheless when the end came it was sudden and unexpected. I've wondered how this has been on my mom- Carol was her only, and younger, sibling, and the lone surviving member from her side of the family. As my mom said, she's now the only one left (fortunately she's in pretty good health, still answers the bell each day!) She seems to be dealing with it pretty well; they were close, but not super close, and again, the poor health and quality of life Carol had probably cushions her loss somewhat.

I've also been thinking of Carol's daughter, my cousin Cheryl. Cheryl is an only child, and me, my brother, and my sister are her only cousins, only relatives. Growing up we really didn't see or have much to do with Cheryl, despite her and her mom only living one town away. There was some animosity between our moms at that time but more it was just, not even indifference but simply, I dunno, unawareness, never even considering that we were Cheryl's only relatives. Relatives, aunts, uncles, cousins were something I think we took for granted; from our father's side of the family we had a slew of them, many of them living in Easton (and you know who you are!) Even given age differences or that we might not have always run in the same groups they were always there, we'd always see or run into one another, be it at school, the park, the store, at church, wherever. Whether we always got along or not (sometimes both!) having that extended family around lent a sense of- what?- of stability, of connectedness. And, not maliciously or with malintent but simply out of lack of awareness, Cheryl didn't have that, didn't experience that from the people who could have/should have extended that to her.

As I got older on those occasions when I'd think of Cheryl I always felt badly about that. She deserved better, and we missed out on getting to know a wonderful person. Awhile back I re-connected with Cheryl (as have my brother and sister), and she was good enough to reciprocate. Over the last several months we've stayed in pretty good touch, and my hope is that, especially now, with the passing of her mom, she can consider us her family, that she might begin to experience at least some of the connectedness that she has with us (and we with her,) as much as our family has had with all of the extended Donaghues.

If there are any points to this they are; be they family, friends, whomever, don't take people who are, or should be, important for granted. It's a loss to them as well as to us. As possible or feasible, making the effort to connect/reconnect with people important to you can be rewarding. Lastly, it shouldn't take an illness to figure these things out.