Ready to be Zapped
I'm really good at doing absolutely nothing. Seriously. I could go pro in doing nothing. I went in today to get "sized up" for my radiation treatments. I was told to lie perfectly still, and not move a muscle. As the techs got me in position, I was being cheered on for just lying there.
"Good job! You're doing great!" The techs continually told me. What can I tell you? I'm a natural.
The above image is the "clear" PET scan that I had performed last week. I am cancer-free! It's a big hurdle to clear, but I am quickly reminded that I am not out of the woods yet. The docs will be keeping a close eye on me for the next two years to make sure I don't have a relapse.
This is the scan that I had performed in May. Doc will be taking a close look at the dark areas on this scan to see where to point their beams. As you see, the cancerous lymph nodes were mostly around the left collarbone, reaching down near my armpit. There's also a dark spot in the center of my chest. The really dark spot is my heart, and it's fine. It's black because I ate some fruit the day before (which I wasn't supposed to), and the radioactive tracer is searching for glucose. The trace sugar in my body is what showed up in my heart and in my bladder on the scan. The infected dark areas you see here will get zapped hard. The radiation will go right through me, from front to back, so they have to be very careful about where they focus the radiation.
I got my first tattoo today. I got three actually. One on each shoulder and one on my chest. They are tiny dots, the size of a freckle. Those marks will help line me up in the proper position for the nuking.
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Check it out: I have my Halloween costume already picked out! I was custom fitted for this mask today. It will be bolted to the table so I can't move when I get zapped. It was like having a tennis racket molded around your face. I look like the alien from The Abyss.
Doc said they will cut me into slices a tenth of an inch thick. I was hoping he wasn't speaking literally. He said he'll take the results from the CAT scans performed today, and just virtually dissect me, which was comforting.
From the images, the docs and techs are going to do a bunch of figuring on how to zap only the areas where my cancer was, giving themselves what doc calls "a little wiggle room". At the same time they take precaution to avoid healthy areas. My vocal cords, esophogus, heart and lungs are all in the neighborhood of where I need to get zapped. They will take every precaution to avoid unaffected areas and organs, but the upper vessels and arteries around my heart will likely be in the line of fire. Some lung tissue will be exposed. My esophogus is going to get fried, which means I won't be able to drink any wine for a while. It also means no "sharp foods", like tortilla chips or toast. My vocal cords might be slightly affected, so there's a chance my voice could be affected. "You may sound like Johnny Cash for a few weeks", Doc says. I have record producers on speed dial if that happens. There's a chance I could lose some hair, permanently, on my neck, and under my left arm. I may have to be zapped near my saliva ducts, so I could experience some dry mouth after treatment, possibly permanently.
I mentioned to doc that I was reading an article discussing how Hodgkin's patients that receive radiotherapy are twice as likely to suffer a stroke later in life. The study was for patients who underwent treatment in the mid-60's through the 90's. Doc said that patients who underwent treatment in the 60's and 70's, were getting some high levels of radiation, and the cure rate back then was about 30% for Hodgkins. The cure rate now is better than 95%.
We talked a long time about long-term implications of treatment. Doc admits that there are definitely risks. If my veins and arteries around my heart are exposed to radiation, I run a higher risk of heart problems later on. My lung will suffer some scarring, but nothing that will hinder me long-term. My thyroid is in the way. There's a chance that it could get screwed up, and then my metabolism would slow down. In that case, I would have to take thyroid meds for the rest of my life.
I asked doc a lot of questions, and he patiently answered every one. The last question I asked, however, stumped him.
"Now that the cancer switch has been flipped in me, what do I do to make sure it doesn't get flipped again?"
That's the question that nobody knows the answer to. Yet. Doc mentioned there is a lot of evidence to show that a heart-healthy diet can have benefits in preventing cancer. But lymphomas are tricky. Diet may help keep it away, it may not. I don't have any choice but to err on the side of caution. I will always have an elevated chance of a recurrence of lymphoma, and also for what they call "secondary cancers" because of treatment. I realize now that once I beat this thing, I win the battle, but not the war.
And this war doesn't end.
"Good job! You're doing great!" The techs continually told me. What can I tell you? I'm a natural.
The above image is the "clear" PET scan that I had performed last week. I am cancer-free! It's a big hurdle to clear, but I am quickly reminded that I am not out of the woods yet. The docs will be keeping a close eye on me for the next two years to make sure I don't have a relapse.
This is the scan that I had performed in May. Doc will be taking a close look at the dark areas on this scan to see where to point their beams. As you see, the cancerous lymph nodes were mostly around the left collarbone, reaching down near my armpit. There's also a dark spot in the center of my chest. The really dark spot is my heart, and it's fine. It's black because I ate some fruit the day before (which I wasn't supposed to), and the radioactive tracer is searching for glucose. The trace sugar in my body is what showed up in my heart and in my bladder on the scan. The infected dark areas you see here will get zapped hard. The radiation will go right through me, from front to back, so they have to be very careful about where they focus the radiation.
I got my first tattoo today. I got three actually. One on each shoulder and one on my chest. They are tiny dots, the size of a freckle. Those marks will help line me up in the proper position for the nuking.
Check it out: I have my Halloween costume already picked out! I was custom fitted for this mask today. It will be bolted to the table so I can't move when I get zapped. It was like having a tennis racket molded around your face. I look like the alien from The Abyss.
Doc said they will cut me into slices a tenth of an inch thick. I was hoping he wasn't speaking literally. He said he'll take the results from the CAT scans performed today, and just virtually dissect me, which was comforting.
From the images, the docs and techs are going to do a bunch of figuring on how to zap only the areas where my cancer was, giving themselves what doc calls "a little wiggle room". At the same time they take precaution to avoid healthy areas. My vocal cords, esophogus, heart and lungs are all in the neighborhood of where I need to get zapped. They will take every precaution to avoid unaffected areas and organs, but the upper vessels and arteries around my heart will likely be in the line of fire. Some lung tissue will be exposed. My esophogus is going to get fried, which means I won't be able to drink any wine for a while. It also means no "sharp foods", like tortilla chips or toast. My vocal cords might be slightly affected, so there's a chance my voice could be affected. "You may sound like Johnny Cash for a few weeks", Doc says. I have record producers on speed dial if that happens. There's a chance I could lose some hair, permanently, on my neck, and under my left arm. I may have to be zapped near my saliva ducts, so I could experience some dry mouth after treatment, possibly permanently.
I mentioned to doc that I was reading an article discussing how Hodgkin's patients that receive radiotherapy are twice as likely to suffer a stroke later in life. The study was for patients who underwent treatment in the mid-60's through the 90's. Doc said that patients who underwent treatment in the 60's and 70's, were getting some high levels of radiation, and the cure rate back then was about 30% for Hodgkins. The cure rate now is better than 95%.
We talked a long time about long-term implications of treatment. Doc admits that there are definitely risks. If my veins and arteries around my heart are exposed to radiation, I run a higher risk of heart problems later on. My lung will suffer some scarring, but nothing that will hinder me long-term. My thyroid is in the way. There's a chance that it could get screwed up, and then my metabolism would slow down. In that case, I would have to take thyroid meds for the rest of my life.
I asked doc a lot of questions, and he patiently answered every one. The last question I asked, however, stumped him.
"Now that the cancer switch has been flipped in me, what do I do to make sure it doesn't get flipped again?"
That's the question that nobody knows the answer to. Yet. Doc mentioned there is a lot of evidence to show that a heart-healthy diet can have benefits in preventing cancer. But lymphomas are tricky. Diet may help keep it away, it may not. I don't have any choice but to err on the side of caution. I will always have an elevated chance of a recurrence of lymphoma, and also for what they call "secondary cancers" because of treatment. I realize now that once I beat this thing, I win the battle, but not the war.
And this war doesn't end.
ZAP AWAY! Imagine those cancer cells being beaten down!
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I love reading your new entries. What a crazy journey. You are strong and so brave.
If you don't mind me asking, because I am not so knowledgeable with this sort of cancer...what were the symptoms that you had it? How did you know something was wrong?
Best of luck now, and in your future.
xox
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Hi Carrie (Spicy): That's a good question. I think I discussed this early on, but it bears repeating, because this is a pretty common theme in spotting lymphoma. I had some bumps around my neck. I noticed one at first, and then several. They weren't getting smaller, and I sought the advice of several doctor buddies of mine, who told me who to see, what to ask, and what tests to have performed. I didn't have any other side effects (fever fatigue, night sweats). Apparently, it's rare to detect Hodgkins simply from enlarged glands. The moral is, if you have bumps that you didn't have before, for heaven's sake, get it checked out! it probably saved my life.
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Thanks for answering. Not sure if we will make it for sure yet, but am definitely going to shoot for going to the AquaSox game Saturday. Definitely will get a pink extension in your honor if I do. Best wishes!!!
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Once again you move me to tears, Bill.
My mother lost the war to breast cancer in 1958. I remember her showing me the areas marked for her radiation treatment. I was only 9 then. I hope your treatment goes well. While I haven't the money to donate to the walk, I will continue prayers for you.
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I caught up with your situation after missing you on the morning news and finally seeing you sans hair this evening. Having been through cancer treatment myself (Stage 3 breast cancer 6 years ago) I recognized the cancer "haircut" instantly!
You are correct when you say that you will have won the battle, and that the war doesn't end. That was the biggest adjustment of all for me.
I have found that there is much joy, laughter, and conscious living to be had as you go through all of this. Life will never be the same, and you may find, as I did, that it is much better than before.
Thank you for demystifying the cancer experience for those who have not been there. My prayers are with you and your family.
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Hi Bill,
I just wanted to say hi and let you know that I am thinking of and praying for you. I completely understand much of what you are going through. I noticed enlarged lymph nodes around my neck in January of this year and was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma that same week. I went through 4 cycles of ABVD (8 total infusions) and 3 and a half weeks of radiation. I finished all of this in the very end of June. It's now been about 6 weeks or so and I am starting to feel better. I am still extremely tired and fatigued... but a lot of the other side effects have dissipated. Things are looking very good. My radiation oncologist says I don't need to see him for a year. My primary oncologist will follow up with me in 3 months for labs and in 6 months for a CT scan. He says chances are 95% that the treatments cured me. I'm having surgery to get my port out next week!
Emotionally, this has been a trying year for me... however, God has given me the grace and strength to handle each day as it comes. Keeping a positive attitude and making the best of every situation has made this process so much easier. I am 27 years old, single, and live alone. While I had supportive friends and family, they obviously couldn't be there all the time (and the tangible, physical help did taper off quite a bit)... I worked pretty much full-time throughout this entire journey (taking off for appointments and treatments, etc). One thing I learned through this is that I can do anything. In July, I took part in the Relay for Life(benefits the American Cancer Society). To kick everything off, there was a survivor's lap. My friend, who had come along with me to the event, encouraged me to join in. I was hesitant, because I didn't really want to go join this mob of people alone. I went anyway. As I made my way around the lap, I found myself really wishing that I had a loved one walking with me. The sidelines were crowded with people cheering and clapping. As I came to the final part of the lap, I began to see how this was really a metaphor for my battle with cancer. Friends and family can only do so much. They can't walk this journey for you. They can only cheer you on as you face cancer head on. It is up to you to make the lap and it is up to you to cross that finish line. Living alone, there was no one to get me a glass of water or fix me dinner (when I felt like eating)... or even clean my house, do the dishes, do laundry, get groceries, etc... it was all me. There was no one else to make the money and pay the bills for me... it was all me. And at the end of the day, when it comes down to emotional and spiritual health - it was all dependent upon me. What kind of attitude did I choose to have that day?
I'm waiting at the finish line cheering you on as you finish your lap. Keep going... you're almost there!
Feel feel to check out my blog if you want to read more about my journey www.crystalpedia.wordpress.com
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Hi Bill,
Yes, winning the battle isn't winning the war. I finished treatment in May and it still sneaks up on me any ol' time. I think ice cream is the key. Well, it sure helped me get thru radiation, and it can still pick up a bad day. I didn't get a halloween suit or mask, just 30 days of laying still, a bit of a burn, and moderate esophagitis. The techs were really good about keeping my spirits up. Hope it goes easy and quick and you never need see that place again.
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Dear GORGEOUS Bill~
I've lived in Washington all my life and have watched you on the news for quite some time now! I've spent the last year or so out of state and I just came back. I'm watching you on the news right now and I still think that you are the most handsome guy I've seen! You are so smart and sexy.. and UGH! Definitely my celebrity crush. Well, you and President Obama to be honest. BUT. You make a very sexy bald man.
Any who.. I'm very happy to see that you are doing so well.
Stay happy, handsome.
<3 Ay
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Bill, I sure enjoyed supporting you and the LLS effort last night at the walk. It was a terrific event. You can view my photos at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2039156&id=1222671953&l=4a1d9ff8a5. I'm glad you're nearing the end of treatment and wish you nothing but the best of health going forward. You're very inspiring!
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