Sid Bacon

Another good day … I have not had any back pain for a week and no real nausea to speak of either.  It is possible that the lack of back pain reflects the success of the anti-inflammatory (Aleve), although I don’t think we can say that with any certainty.  Although I definitely would like to know why I have been pain-free this past week, I am nevertheless content to live pain-free without a clear understanding of why.  It is also not particularly clear why I’ve been without nausea this past week.  I am beginning to think that the bouts of nausea are tied to how well my anti-nausea patch is working to ward off that particular side effect of the chemo … the patch works best when it is appropriately adhered to my body, but a good seal is difficult to achieve in this sweat-inducing climate.  Of course, the nausea could be caused by something all together different (e.g., being sick of the hot weather …).  All in all, I’d say I’m a real puzzle (others may have thought so for a long time now …).

Two of the books I have been reading lately – both written by oncologists – have taken me on bit of an emotional roller coaster ride.  Towards the end of “Emperor of all Maladies …”, the author discusses how far we have come in treating certain forms of cancer over the past 2500 years.  For a particular type of breast cancer, the improvement has been substantial, whereas for other types it has not.  For metastatic pancreatic cancer, the prognosis has changed no more than a few months in almost three millennia.  Ouch!  Talk about a lack of progress.  The author does, however, note elsewhere in the book that advances in the war on cancer will occur in leaps.  The book was completed two years ago, so I hold out hope that some of those leaps have occurred since, or at the very least that we are literally on the verge of one giant leap … perhaps to be revealed in my clinical trial.

The Father’s Day book from Laura, “The Anatomy of Hope”, has shown me different types of hope, and has convinced me that my hope is not a false one, but is true and grounded at least in part on data from my own case.  I need to focus on that hope, to keep the emotional roller coaster on a high part of its arc.

We are at Piper and awaiting the results of the blood work to see if I will have chemotherapy today.  I’m predicting a platelet count in the upper 60,000 range; Cathy is predicting one in the upper 70,000 range.  And the winner is … both of us: my platelets were at 147,000, pretty close to the sum of our guesses.  We don’t like to be too competitive with each other, so this is good.  (As Laura and Dan know, mom likes a tie.)

As for my nausea: the folks here at Piper want to refer me to a GI specialist. I probably will go to Mayo, and see the physician I saw just prior to my cancer diagnosis.  I look forward to seeing him again; he has been following my care and has even called me several times just to see how I am doing (and to express his delight in the results of the CT scans).  Another possibility is that the anti-pain medicine, which I receive through a patch, is causing the nausea.  Perhaps I’ll be able to stop using both patches.  That would be great, but I won’t get too far ahead of myself.  Quite frankly, that would be quite a leap from where we are now.

Well, it is about time for me to step into the ring and continue the fight.  I feel you in my corner.  Thanks for being there.

Day 1 after chemotherapy treatment and I feel great!  Cathy and I went on a nice long walk (not nearly as long as the walks in Pinetop, but well over 30 minutes … the heat has to count for something) and I plan to lift weights after I write this blog.  I’m a little sleepier in the evenings a day or two after chemo, but I’m not sure it is noticeably different from all the other nights.  I’ve gotten pretty good at falling asleep on the couch …
 

I hope to feel this well when we go to Colorado the end of next week for our godson’s wedding.  I can’t and don’t take feeling well for granted, as I’ve written before, but I can certainly hope for the best. And if I don’t feel my best, I at least have drugs that ease me through the nausea.  I am determined to enjoy this trip to the utmost.
 

Given our travel schedule (Thursday through Sunday), I will be going to Piper next Wednesday for treatment.  It will be the very last in the scheduled six cycles of this first regimen, which has been extremely successful.  They then want to give me about four weeks off before I start the next regimen, to give me plenty of time to build-up my strength and, I think, just to give me a break.  (I am tentatively scheduled to start on the 27th of August … a nice long break.) We are looking forward to the time off.  The chemo treatments will take on a very different look once we start the new regimen.  We will be going to Piper on Mondays, and starting the day around 6:30 or 7:00 AM. We probably will be there until 3:30 PM or so.  (I hope to convince Cathy to get away from Piper for part of those days, given that they’ll be so long.  I can always entertain myself with music, a book, e-mail, etc.)  The infusion will continue for 48 hours, which means I will be connected to a portable pump that will deliver the chemo at home.  We’ll go back to Piper on Wednesday afternoon to have them disconnect the pump and send us on our way.  That should be a quick appointment, shorter than the drive to Piper itself.  (We aren’t going to complain about the 30- to 40-minute drive, particularly after hearing yesterday that about a third – 30 or so in all – of the patients on their clinical trials are from out-of-state … makes our commute seem wimpy, and also reiterates how fortunate we are to be receiving our care at Piper … people travel a long way for this level of care and treatment.)  Treatment on this new regimen will be every other week, so if my first appointment is the 27th of August, my second will be the 10th of September.  Two weeks on and two off weeks constitute a cycle with this new regimen.  I’ll be scheduled for six cycles, so this will take me into the first few months of 2013.
 

I feel very fortunate that I have responded so well thus far to the breadth of treatment I have received.  That includes the chemotherapy, of course, but it also includes the thoughts and prayers that I’ve received from you and from many others.  For example, my sister works for a retirement home for nuns in the Kansas City area … there is a prayer chain originating from there that makes its way to Rome. I know there are churches throughout the states that have me or have had me on their prayer list.  I also have benefitted immensely from the university providing me the opportunity to work at home. I’ve been able to work without the daily commute or stress that sometimes comes from being at work.  It has made a big difference in how I feel.  It has made a big difference in my progress.  Indeed, I do not discount any of these efforts ... they all are contributing to my success.  I am so grateful for them all.
 

In closing, I want to take this opportunity to wish my dad a very happy birthday.  He’ll be 88 years old tomorrow!  What an accomplishment.  He and my mom are doing great … we are all very fortunate in that regard. Keep up the good work, Dad.

We are in full-blown monsoon season in the Phoenix area.  We’ve had more than our share of wind and messy dust storms, and have even had a scattering of some rain (thank goodness).  The monsoons bring plenty of humidity (usually about 30-40% or so) to the otherwise dry climate, elevating the discomfort level with temperatures still hovering in the triple digits.  Today is another muggy day … maybe not Midwest muggy, but muggy nevertheless.
 

Despite the somewhat oppressive weather, Cathy and I went on a morning walk together, as we did over the weekend.  Indeed, on Saturday and Sunday, we walked the entire route together … a real treat for me.  Today, Cathy was back on the running trail after graciously walking more than half the route with me.  After we parted ways, I decided today was the day to start mixing in some jogging with my walking.  Thus, I ran part way home … the first time I have run since mid January!  I didn’t run far, but it was good just to start getting back into the swing of running.  I don’t have any goals yet in terms of my running, but I would like to add it to my cardio routine, as I get a better cardio workout from running than from walking (though my joints tend to prefer the walking …). If I add running to my biking, walking, and weight lifting, I should be able to get into pretty good shape. 
 

If I pause for a moment … it seems truly amazing that I am able to think seriously about doing all this exercise.  I definitely do not take it for granted and I realize that I may not always feel well enough to exercise, but I certainly am going to take advantage of it while I do.  I am trying to live in the moment, and this moment is good.
 

I am so pleased that I have been feeling well lately … I have had no back pain or nausea for some time now.  What a treat!  Despite the recent lack of nausea, I am going back to Mayo in early August to see the GI specialist I saw just prior to my cancer diagnosis, to see if there is some non-cancer-related reason I occasionally suffer from nausea.  I will have an endoscopic exam early in the morning of the 6th of August, and then will see the specialist at the end of the day.  I look forward to seeing this particular physician again.  I have mentioned him before in this blog.  He is the one who has been following my progress closely, and has called me several times to see how I am doing and to express his sincere pleasure at how well things are going for me.  He is very caring and highly competent.  I am confident that we’ll ultimately get to the bottom of this mystery …
 

Cathy’s sister Mary and her husband Kevin were here for about 20 hours, from Sunday afternoon until this morning, passing through on their way from California to the Black Hills in South Dakota.  After a few days there, they will be on their way to the wedding in Colorado.  The family is starting to converge for the big event, with most of us showing up on Thursday for Saturday’s wedding.  It was fun seeing them, if only for a day.  We managed to squeeze in a movie … “Salmon fishing in the Yemen” … a romantic comedy with some truly humorous dialogue.   
 

As I look forward to the wedding, I realize how much I have improved physically since Dan and Liz’s wedding three months ago.  I am a lot stronger and have considerably more energy.  I also weigh about 10-12 pounds more now than I did.  I certainly do not have to worry about whether my pants will stay on … quite the contrary!  I am grateful for my progress, and grateful for your continued support.  I can’t thank you enough.

When I was first diagnosed with metastatic (stage IV) pancreatic cancer, I was pretty sick and things looked pretty dire.  My tumors were growing aggressively, having increased measurably in just two weeks between CT scans.  I had completely lost my appetite and was having difficulty eating or drinking anything; I was losing weight rapidly.  Indeed, while I was in the Mayo Hospital, it took me well over an hour just to drink a bottle of water in preparation for that second CT scan that would reveal just how aggressive my tumors were.  I needed surgery to install a stent that would enable food to travel more easily through my stomach.  There were questions, however, as to how successful that surgery would be, given the obstruction caused by the tumor on my pancreas.  It seemed as though the news was bad at every turn.  Fortunately, the surgeon called it a “textbook” surgery when he spoke to me after I woke up … finally, a promising sign.
 

In those early days of this journey, as I started my chemotherapy treatments, I had two imminent (long-term?) goals.  The first was to live long enough to attend Dan and Liz’s wedding.  The second goal was to make it to Andy and Kate’s wedding.  As time progressed, I got stronger.  Although I needed a blood transfusion shortly before Dan and Liz’s big day, there was no question that I was going to be there.  And the transfusion made the experience all the better … I even made it to the dance floor a few times!  Now, on the eve of Andy and Kate’s wedding, I am even stronger than I was a few months ago. Assuming safe travels, there is no question that I will be at the wedding. Check and check.  Both goals achieved.
 

My goals now are more audacious.  Today is my 57th birthday.  I want to make it to my 58th … 59th … 60th … and beyond.  I want to live long enough to spend more time traveling with and, more importantly, just being with Cathy.  I certainly want more time with my children, and if there are grandchildren in the future, I desperately want time with them; I want to live long enough for them to remember me when I’m gone. I want more time with the rest of my family and friends.
 

I also want to give back to the community of cancer patients, a very special community that no one really wants to join.  But when you are there, if you are lucky, you realize that you are not alone.  Many others are there with you, pulling for you, and giving you the strength to fight on.  I want to talk with other cancer patients and, if at all possible, give them hope for the future.

I have hope for my future.  It is not false hope.  I learned that from reading “The Anatomy of Hope”.  I realize that my tumors may become resistant to the chemotherapy and start growing again, perhaps as aggressively as before, or even more so.  And that could happen at any time.  I live with that threat.  But the tumors also could remain stagnant for an extended period of time, sufficient to get me to at least some of my goals, maybe all of them. That is certainly my hope. 
 

I am a year older today.  I am extremely happy to say that.  As my dad knowingly says “Getting older is better than the alternative.”  Amen.

Thanks for the many wonderful birthday wishes.  That wasn’t why I mentioned that yesterday was my birthday, but it was certainly a nice unintended consequence.  So … thank you very much.

Today is going to be a good day.  Once again, I have no back pain or nausea.  I hope to keep it up through the weekend, so I can fully enjoy the trip to Colorado.  I know we are going to enjoy our godson’s wedding and all the surrounding festivities.  I know we also are going to enjoy the weather; the highs will be in the mid 70s and the lows in the mid 40s.  Quite a change from what we are experiencing in Phoenix these days!

Cathy and I will be going to Piper this afternoon for my 1:30 appointment.  If my platelet count is above 50,000, I’ll have my last chemotherapy treatment with the current drug regimen.  I’ll then have about a month off before starting the new regimen.  I am looking forward to the time off.

We are excited to be meeting our friends, Mary and Bob, for lunch today before going to Piper.  We haven’t seen them for a while, so it will be good to get caught up. (P.S. We had a very nice lunch, and it was indeed fun to see them again and to see pictures of their two granddaughters.)

I’ll finish writing this entry from Piper after we hear the results of my blood work …

My platelet count today is sufficiently high (85,000) for chemo.  This will be my last chemotherapy treatment until the 27th of August.  I’ll have blood work and another CT scan a few days before that.  The break from chemotherapy certainly will be nice.

We’ll be traveling tomorrow and then will be enjoying ourselves in Colorado through the weekend.  I will write again on Monday. 

Thank you for all your support!  I couldn’t do this without you.