Pavarotti Sings About Cancer, a Chemo Primer

Diffuse Large B-cell Lymphoma (20%) with Follicular Lymphoma (80%), WHO Grade 3A.

That’s what I got, and for what I got they give you Chemo. The specific treatment protocol is called R-CHOP, which is simply an acronym for the Chemo Cocktail I’ll be receiving. From what I understand, there isn’t a lot of room for Physician deliberation and interpretation – with Diffuse Large B-cell Lymphoma (DLBCL), you get R-CHOP. Period. My cousin, who’s both a retired Oncologist and a Lymphoma survivor, called it “cookbook medicine.”

DLBCL is aggressive, but potentially curable. Follicular is not curable, but is slow-growing and treatable. "Follicular" also makes me think of this:

Starting on November 23, I'll be getting Chemo once every three weeks for a total of six cycles. So, my itinerary is set until April. I’ve gone from running the kids around town, forgetting to unmute on Zoom, and planning a vacation with friends to being Guy with Cancer. I know, ‘Don’t let it define you! You are more than your disease!’ But the primacy of Cancer cannot be denied. Everything is now in reaction and in deference to Cancer.

“Can you run to the store?”
“Not sure, let me check with the Cancer.”

“Are you going to call in to the department meeting tomorrow?”
“I’ll have to see how the Cancer is doing.”

“Red or white?” 

“What goes best with Cancer?”

In a three-week Chemo cycle, they tell me that week two is when I’ll feel particularly crappy. Because I’ll have a severely compromised immune system during a global pandemic, I’ll also be consigned to my house during the entire 18 weeks of treatment. I assumed the saving grace of all this would be that I'll lose the extra COVID-19 I've been carrying around for the past two years, but because I'll be on prednisone I'm far more likely to gain weight than lose it. It's not only prednisone. I just picked up the prednisone, three different anti-nausea meds, and an anti-viral. The pharmacy only filled one of the anti-nausea meds initially; they assumed the Doctor was giving them a choice. After all, who in the hell needs three different anti-nausea meds? (That would be me.) The anti-viral is to guard against Shingles and Herpes specifically. I've had the Shingles vaccine, but Chemo will probably wipe out any immunity I received as a result. Herpes is a concern because of all the random sex I'll be having during treatment. It's cool, though, because Chemo is also likely to make me sterile. Of course, that didn't stop the Doctor from spending way more time than was necessary explaining that we should use two forms of contraception because, though I may be sterile, the possibility that I can impregnate someone still exists, and birth defects would be likely. Who knew Cancer was such a turn-on? So, Chemo kinds of sucks, but not as much as my punk-ass lymph nodes, and that's the trade-off.

The great irony is that other than this weird lump in my neck I feel fine. My energy may flag a little earlier in the evening than it once did, but that could just be because I'm 53 and completely out of shape. Other than that I feel fit as a fiddle, but, not to worry, the Chemo will soon take care of that!