Walking With a Lymph

I should really be coming up with something snarky and irreverent to write, and I don't want to enumerate poultry, but I think I'll let this one stand on its own. ---------------------  From: HU , BEI MD  To: LEVINE, STEVEN MARK  Cc: HOLLIFIELD , WHITNEY S;  Sent: 1/24/2022 10:38:05 EST  Subject: General Message  Hi Mr. Levine, Just wanted to let you know the great news of your pet/ct which showed a complete metabolic remission. This is the best response we could hope for. We will still need to do 3 more cycles of the RCHOP. We can talk more about your pet/ct in detail at the visit tomorrow but wanted to let you know the good news in advance.  Best,  Bei Hu, MD

It’s my own fault. I’d been getting cocky, telling anyone who asked how trouble-free my infusions had been, tempting both fate and the Gods of Chemo. My typical schedule on Chemo Day sends me to the Lab first where they draw blood and access my port. Then, I head upstairs to see Doctor Hu. She usually has the lab results before the end of our appointment. Lastly, it’s to one of two Infusion Centers where I make myself at home for the next 4 ½-hours. Yesterday, 10 nurses had called out sick, and the Lab was pretty backed up. (There are no phlebotomists at the Levine Cancer Institute. Only RN’s draw blood because of the number of patients with ports.) So, Doctor Hu could see some of the results, but not all before I headed to Infusion. We had already started my Chemo regimen when the Doctor called down to say that my phosphorus was low. Evidently, I had lost my glow. Now, because I am my father’s son, I immediately did some research to try and assess the culprit. I needed to know what vi...

“I love you, but you’re going to have to shave that beard.”  I was lying in bed when these words were spoken to me. Though it was not my own bed, I was naked from the waist down save for two pairs of socks, and had only met the man speaking to me the day prior. My wife was there, too, but she was just watching. The sudden announcement was surprising because I was already prepped, and the CNA was ready to administer the sleepy-go-bye-bye meds. Truth be told, I was in surgery about two weeks earlier than anticipated because my surgeon, the man I had met one day earlier, had a cancellation. So, even though my beard was hard to miss, it had escaped any sort of pre-op conversations that would have otherwise been routine. They brought me hospital clippers, and I raced from the pre-op room to the bathroom with my wife valiantly trying to hold my hospital gown closed from behind, ass cheeks flapping in the breeze nonetheless. A nurse lined the sink with a towel, and I proceeded to shave my...

Today marks one week since my first Chemo treatment. Today is also the first day I’ve gone back to bed after everyone else left the house. I woke up at the normal time, roused the kids, made coffee, had a bagel. After Shawnna, et al. left for school I fed the dogs, and sat sipping a second cup while continuing to navigate the flowing torrent of Sondheim remembrances . Then, in an instant, I just felt like crap – queasy and completely sapped of energy. So, I went back to bed. I have felt mildly queasy all week, but this was more pronounced. So much so, that I no longer wished to remain upright, and upright I did not remain. While we tend to think of side-effects as manifesting physically, there are some that take up psychological space, as well. I'm not talking about the mental and emotional toll Cancer can take on a person and his family, rather the physical symptoms that edge their way into the psyche thereby becoming meta physical. For me, such symptoms are the ones relating to f...

I have always said that once I had kids, I became a better actor because my emotions lived so much closer to the surface. If that's true, then this shit should make me fucking Olivier. I've had numerous moments of emotional fragility over the past couple of months. It’s usually been when I’ve had more questions than answers, and when I’m home alone with nothing to occupy my mind. (Showers are particularly bad.) I do best with information, but I’m being very particular as to where I get it. I’ve been avoiding Dr. Google like, well, Cancer. I’ve also avoided legitimate sites like the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society , or National Cancer Institute . Nor do I pour over the voluminous handouts the various healthcare professionals give me. I figure I’ll only understand about 10% of what I read, and the other 90% will send me in to a tailspin. They enumerate all possibilities from the best-case scenarios to the worst, and one’s mind never fixates on the best, “Clearly, based on what I re...