Score So Far: Joe 2, Cancer 0

It's hard to describe my experiences over the past few months.  Cancer is such a loaded term with many meanings to so many different people, that saying, "I have cancer"  isn't really a good descriptor of what I actually had to go through.  On the other hand, getting overly technical isn't very effective either.  Most of us aren't really equipped to have a discussion about the finite differences between a"Diffuse Large B Cell Lymphoma with a proliferative index >95%, and a more understandable, Burkitt's Lymphoma.  A conversation about the specific origins of a chemotherapy agent, or the specific genetic mutations that contribute to my disease, I've found, are a good way to make people bored with the conversation, or make them wish they paid better attention during high school science class.  

I'm a firm believer that there is very little in life that can't be made better with a sports analogy, so for the past few weeks I've been trying to figure out what the best analogy would be.  Baseball???  kind of like cancer in that you spend a long time waiting for a little bit of action.  One could probably say something about how both baseball and cancer are nearly impossible to explain to someone who has never played the game.  have you tried to explain baseball to someone who's never played.  "so there is this guy named the pitcher, and he throws a ball to a batter, who tries to hit the ball.  He get's three chances or he strikes out.......  It's complicated.

I tried coming up with an analogy about cancer and ice skating, but slipped. (did you see that pun there?) 

I finally settled on an analogy between cancer and a boxing match.  In the imaginary boxing match of Joe vs Cancer, the score so far appears to be Joe 2.  Cancer, 0.  This isn't to say that cancer didn't get some good punches in.  At the end of this most recent match cancer took a fair amount out of me.  I'm 34lbs lighter now than when I started.  I have a distinctly bald head, and even my impressive eyebrows have started to thin out.  I think I have the strength of a 12 year old girl, and some ongoing tingling in my fingers and toes.  In what appears to be cancer's final blow to the midsection, I found out today that I have a Deep Vein Thrombosis embedded near my jugular.  Nothing too serious, but it does mean that I get to be on blood thinners for a lot longer than I originally anticipated.  Interestingly, the DVT was found today when I went in for my Final CT scan.  

I've had to cancel my knife fighting classes that I had scheduled, as well as cancelling my bouts as an ultimate fighter.    Touche cancer.

Despite having been put through the ringer in this latest bout, I can say with elation that I think I whooped this thing.  

I'm very happy to say that not only was I able to do this almost a decade ago, but I was able to do it again.  

Joe: 2                    Cancer: 0

The bell appears to have rung in this most recent round, and I appear to be the victor.  I'm hoping that I will be able to hang up my gloves and retire from this fight for good.  

Without belaboring the analogy too much, I will say that this whole endeavor would have been much more difficult without the numerous people in my corner.  I don't know a lot of people who have the ability to compare cancer experiences within themselves, but I can definitely say that this cancer has been waaay better than the last cancer.  I think a lot of that has to do with the amazing support system that has been there to help me and my family.  My sincerest thanks go out to each of you.    

I'm not sure what this space is going to become in the future.  I anticipate that in the short term there will still be some cancer related stories and news that I might want to share, but long term.... who knows.  I've found that I have liked writing this blog, and I've heard that some have found it entertaining if probably not that informative.  If I were less lazy I'd take up blogging as a hobby and use it to hone my writing skills.  I am lazy though, and therefore, unwilling to commit to anything.  Maybe I'll find something compelling to write about and that can fill this space.  We shall see what the future holds....

Newsflash: Bodies need red blood cells.

This is probably pretty intuitive, but I've found that our bodies (or at least mine) operates way more effectively when it actually has a decent number of red blood cells.  I went into clinic yesterday for what I planned on being the final drug in the final round of treatment.
Clinic visits generally follow the same basic schedule.  I check in on the fancy touch screen.  By the time I sit down the phlebotomist pops her head out the door and calls my name.  They are impressively fast.  I go to the little room, step on the scale.  They do everything using the metric system, so yet again, I berate myself for not doing better at knowing what 99.82KG actually means, and recommit to start using the metric system more.  Really America?  you want to be the final holdout using the imperial system of weights and measures?
I usually reminisce briefly on how much pie I would have to eat to get back up to my starting weight (it's a lot!), and then I think how nice it was that I had so much extra padding going into this thing.
I sit down in the blood drawing chair, and make some small talk while they draw numerous vials of blood.  Somewhere in there I have to confirm that I am who my wristband says I am, which I find somewhat interesting since I'm on a first name basis with pretty much everyone on the 8th floor at LDS hospital by now.
Once labs are drawn, we wait.
With cancer, waiting is something you get really really good at.
Yesterday, we waited.  The labs came back, and it shouldn't have come as a huge surprise to me that pretty much all of my counts were really low.  I was just at the threshold to get red blood cells and platelets.  My white blood cell count was at 0, which coincidentally I found irritating because I've been getting a shot every night to stimulate white blood cell production.  If I'm going to go through the pain of a shot, I better get the gain of increased white blood cells.  I felt kind of cheated.
Lance Armstrong showed how effective blood doping could be in a professional athlete, so it must be just as effective in a cancer patient right?  I took a page from lance's book and we ordered up two units of blood, and some platelets for good measure.
Remember when I said that cancer makes you good at waiting?
This little shift in treatment changed our planned 2 hour long clinic visit into a 8.5 hour long marathon of sitting around.
By the time we left, I had received my scheduled final dose of rituxamab, two units of blood, a unit of platelets, and some cafeteria nachos that sounded waaay better in my head then they tasted in real life.
I am happy to report that things are progressing well.  The red blood cells have made it so I can go up my stairs without being winded, and put some color in my face.  (I'm told pale is not a good look for me).  I have officially completed the drug treatment portion of my regimen.  I think today is day 11 of the 21 day cycle, so technically I have 10 more days to go.  From this point forward, as far as I can tell, most of my activity is tied to recovering from the first 6 days of the cycle where they gave me large doses of poisonous chemicals.  I am optimistic that  soon will be the day where I can lose some of my waiting abilities, and get to a normal that isn't dominated by cancer treatment.