Half-Way, More or Less

FIVE Chemo infusions completed and FIVE to go!

Here is the latest chapter in my very, very strange year of medical anomalies. After my fifth Chemo treatment (treatments are three weeks apart): The news is mostly good--very good.

1  My PSA has decreased from a high of 54 in May to 15 at the end of July!
2  My appetite has improved greatly. For nearly six months most foods tasted terrible or at best bland. All of a sudden food tastes like food again. Why? Maybe I'll never know but I will continue to enjoy eating normally.
3  And my weight has increased by more than ten pounds since May. I almost look normal (but on the slim side) again. I had to buy some new clothes to fit my trimmed down frame (bought pants in the Boys Department).
4  I am able to jog a little and walk a mile or two most days. For about an hour a day I can work in the yard, split and carry wood, or do a few household chores.
5  My tolerance of the Chemo drug has been pretty good. No serious side effects, no major pain, and I still have much of my hair. I didn't have all that much to begin with.

There are always challenges:

1  I regularly experience fatigue, take a nap or two each day, and sleep 10 to 12 hours at night. I fall asleep while watching TV and often don't make it past 8:00 pm. I fall asleep while talking to my wife (she thinks I'm just ignoring her). This is worst the first 7 to 10 days after Chemo. It gets better about a  week before the next treatment.
2  My attention span suffers from time to time. That may also be related to my advanced age.
3  I catch colds easily, have developed rashes and a fungus, and use a ton of hand sanitizer. It's hard to remember to be careful and avoid all sorts of dust, germs, and other stuff.

Cancer Survivor? We are all survivors. I have come to the conclusion that you are a 'survivor' at this very moment and you never know what will happen five minutes in the future. There are never any guarantees. That's OK.

We still plan our life as we always have. We travel, visit friends and relatives, and take on projects on the farm. But now, for example when making airline reservations, we always buy the trip insurance--just in case. Life is pretty good. Thank all of you who have cared and supported me.
Stay tuned!

axman

Getting Older—an Exercise in Extremes

As I get older (and older) the dialogues in my life have changed. It is interesting and a bit amusing, in a black humor sort of way. Several times someone has said, “You’re looking pretty good‑‑for someone your age!” Meaning if I were younger they might be concerned? I can opt out of jury duty because I qualify as too old. Some of my friends have been told they’re too old to drive (they’ll have to pry my keys out of my cold dead hands). 

Recently my Doctor became concerned that my heart rate was too slow (as a lifelong runner my heart rate has always been slow—in the 40s and 50s). Turns out a low heart rate can be a concern for old geezers. I’m often too cold (takes a long time to warm up), too hot (hot flashes), too tired (fall asleep

while watching TV), and always too stubborn (so says my wife). Extremes all!

Then there are those extreme “trigger” words that all of us cancer survivors dread to hear in any form: terminal, incurable, late stage, life threatening, inoperable, off the charts, etc. The older you are, the worse they sound.

More than once I have redefined what I mean by “a good quality of life.” When I was 40 it meant everything worked at 100%. At 60 maybe 80% was OK—a few aches and pains. Now, in my 70s, my requirements for “a good quality of life” are less stringent. If I can stand up, get dressed, eat, lift a glass of wine to my lips, walk (albeit slowly), drive a car (at least for now), and remember who I am and approximately what day it is (most of the time) it is a good day!

Trying to focus on what I can do and not what I can’t do is a challenge, but worth the effort when it works. A fading memory is an asset in this endeavor.

axman

How to be a Cancer Survivor

(Hint: don’t die)

Maybe the most common term in the world of cancer (after, “You have cancer”) is Cancer Survivor. There are about 12 million survivors in the U.S. and millions more around the world. The term can have vastly different meanings for different people. In a nutshell, if you have (or had) cancer and are still alive, you are a Cancer Survivor. If you had cancer and are no longer alive, you are NOT a Cancer Survivor. Amen.

To some, the term is insulting or at best irrelevant. To others it is a badge of honor for fighting long and hard to survive. There are, of course, numerous types of cancer, many and varied treatments, and several levels of severity. And all the people in all these situations fall into the general category of Cancer Survivor. Surviving is good (at least that’s the way I look at it). But the term Cancer Survivor doesn’t differentiate between a cure and Stage 4 or a few skin cancer cells and an incurable melanoma. I am a Cancer Survivor who is a lot healthier than many other Cancer Survivors but not as healthy as some other Cancer Survivors.

When someone asks you if you are a Cancer Survivor, what do you say? Should you tell them more? How much more? Or just nod and say, “Yes”? Does it matter whether you are a breast cancer survivor, prostate cancer survivor, lung cancer survivor, or a survivor of a hundred other cancers? I think most people without cancer use the term as a sign of support and caring and probably don’t want or need a lot of information. What do you think?

axman