This week's blog is short and sweet. But it's really, really good. So good, in fact, it has puppies AND kittens.
The saga continues . . . you will recall that last month’s
episode found your intrepid blogger the recipient of disappointing news, in
contrast to the sunnier results of the previous month. Dr. Lee delivered the
grim verdict in his usual perfunctory manner before handing me off to the
wizards of infusion who would take over the next stage of my treatment. The last
few weeks featured three infusions of the miracle drug Avastin® and the
installation of my brand new PowerPort©.
On Tuesday I had
another date with the MRI machine (definitely not for the claustrophobic), and
was spared the usual suspense by meeting with my oncologist Dr. Lee the very
next day. The history of our encounters might have provided a hint of what to
expect (this was the “good news” week), but I felt a foreboding nonetheless.
However, the mood instantly lightened when Dr. Lee entered the room. I've told
you this guy has the worst poker face in the world, and his “tell” was like a
flashing billboard.
As the good Dr. Lee whipped out scan after scan, I stared in
growing disbelief as I witnessed The Amazing Disappearing Brain Tumor. Where
there had been big white splotches spelling out evil tumor encroachment, there
was now . . . nothing. Well, OK, not NOTHING, but compared to the ever-growing
spider of death I’m used to seeing, it seemed like nothing. Now, this trip has
been enough of a roller coaster ride that I am cautious about getting too
excited about any promising developments. But Dr. Lee confirmed that, while perhaps
not meriting a “go crazy folks” Jack Buck-type celebration, this is in fact some
pretty damn good news; the best I've seen since I started this ride.
Well, all right! The cancer’s not gone, but the Avastin is
performing as advertised and delivering some fairly eye-popping and ass-kicking
results its first time in the starting lineup. (I described in Part 15 how Avastin works, by cutting off the blood supply of tumors and starving the little bastards.) Not arguing with results, so I'll be back in the infusion chair every two weeks for the foreseeable future. Instead
of seeing me in four weeks, Dr. Lee thinks we can take an eight-week break until
the next MRI.
So, what’s it all mean, Charlie Brown? This good news takes
some getting used to. Maybe I can start looking at things a little more long-term.
Start the down payment on those 2016 World Series tickets? OK, let’s not get
silly . . . but watching a young lady pick up her diploma in a couple of years is something I
consider worth sticking around for.
GOODBYE AMIGOS! SEE YOU SOON! HAHA!!
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| 03.04.2014 |
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| 04.01.2014 |
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| 03.04.2014 |
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| 04.01.2014 |
