Nothing Cold!!

So, I just learned the meaning of this sign, which has been posted on Joe's hospital door since chemo began:

I thought "nothing cold" WAS the chemo precaution, but no. "Chemo precaution," I just learned, means that Joe's body fluids [sweat, tears, urine, saliva, ETC. (caps intended)] are toxic. So much for the kissing we've done! :) And the kissing we were planning to do. His body should flush the platinum within 48-56 hours or so, but it can't feel great to know your body is excreting Cancer-causing agents. Especially when you have Cancer. Poor Joe. The "Nothing Cold!" order is because cold beverages or food makes the hands and feet of people on this chemo go numb. I would revise the sign to read:

Chemo Precautions!!!!!

(Also, nothing cold.)

But that's just me.

Joe Rocks Chemo

A little Pandora, a little crossword puzzle, and the firmly stated decision to have no side effects from chemo. :) Hello from the hospital!

And we're off!!

Chemo has begun! Thank Whomever. While it's weird that Joe is being intravenously administered PLATINUM, it's nice to think about that evil cancer being thwarted instead of fed. I was able to be at the hospital for a good part of today, but tonight I'm at home with Miles, so couldn't be there when they hooked up the remedy/poison to his catheter. We were on the phone, though, and he's holding up great. Whatever side effects he has will show in a few days. If it weren't so personal, it would be much more interesting to learn that chemo stops rapid cell division (Cancer's so efficient!), and the side effects are all related to the cells in our bodies that rapidly divide. Such as the lining of our mouths, hair follicles, skin on our hands and feet, and digestive tract. It makes sense. I love it when things make sense. Those are the places where we interact with the items of our human experience, and I love that they renew themselves often. Sounds sort of cleansing, in a way.

For the wonks out there: They gave him a steroid (I think), and an anti-nausea drug before they started the chemo. Currently, Joe's got two IVs going- the Oxaliplatin ("Platinum" link above), and the "Rescue Drug" which will hopefully protect some of those rapidly dividing cells he needs. One in the neck, one in the arm. After a few hours of the Oxaliplatin drip, he'll start a series of other medications, which, combined with Oxaliplatin, makes FOLFOX, the chemo cocktail we already researched. He'll be confined to his hospital floor until discharge, so no more walks to the cafeteria for mediocre pizza. ;)

The hospital, Memorial Regional Medical Center, part of the Bon Secours network, has been outstanding. Attentive, cheerful, and empathetic.

They've agreed to give him an Ambien tonight, so he might be conked. But in general,

Joe's mostly bored, so if you want to call him, DO! His cell works, and he's addicted to Facebook, so chat's a possibility. If you need his contact info (or want to talk to me for any reason), you can email me at erinbishop@gmail.com or call me at 804.305.0255.

All in all, I think we're pretty good- glad remedy is underway, taking everything (the move, the diagnosis, the life changes) in stride. As always, much love and appreciation for your support and good wishes!

Nothing Yet...

Hi all,

Joe's been in his hospital room since noon yesterday, and JUST NOW got his implant port (Power Port!) for the chemo. It's a semi-permanent direct line to his bloodstream. This will prevent the nurses from having to find a vein every time they give him a treatment, so it's a good thing. Joe's not thrilled with the night in the hospital for no reason, but seems to be recovering from the port implant well. He's wolfing down a hospital breakfast that's been sitting out for 5 hours, so he must be REALLY hungry!

I think chemo will start today, but will keep you posted. Love to all.

Change of Plan

So, Joe talked to the Oncologist's office today, and was told that his Monday chemo start will be in-patient: he'll be in the hospital for 2 1/2 days. The following Monday radiation will begin, and instead of being in conjunction with Xeloda, the chemo pill, he'll be getting the typical drip, for which he must stay in the clinic for several hours strapped to an IV. Not sure what the drug is called yet. Daily radiation, and bi-weekly chemo drip, for at least 5 weeks. Then a blissful 6 weeks or so of recovery before surgery, followed by more chemo drip. This is going to be a long, hard road. My Outward Bound instructor would say "slow and steady" and I think that's how I'll think of it- with the memory of my worn hiking boot landing a mere 6 inches past my other one, over and over again. A miserable slog resulting in a phenomenal reward.

Headed to Joe's to pack up the kitchen. Tomorrow is moving day. Sunday is funday!

Gettin' this party started!

First, sorry for the absence. I was temporarily shut out of my gmail account, and couldn't post. Second, we've met with a Radiology Oncologist and a Medical Oncologist, and are very, very pleased to report that Joe starts intense Chemo on Monday. Monday! We left the meeting with the MO thinking it would start end of June/early July, which did not feel good. Not only does he start on Monday, but they're giving him a more intensive regimen than was originally planned. I suspect this was due some pressure from our friend/Colorectal Surgeon Andy Vorenberg. Bless that man! Seriously: next time you need a Colorectal Surgeon, he's the one to call. ;)

So, for the next few days, we're in high gear- moving Joe's stuff into the house (he broke his lease with his very understanding landlord), getting this work schedule straight, and... I guess that's it. Just getting ready.

His initial chemo drug will be FOLFOX for a week, followed by 5 weeks of radiation in concurrence with Xeloda , and while the administration of Folfox sucks (a few days in the hospital tethered to an IV), the side effects of Xeloda are way less than the chemo given to breast, ovarian, and pancreatic cancer patients. Those cause the horrible nausea, hair loss, and weight loss that I think we most associate with Cancer. Xeloda side effects include diarrhea (Joe's got that handled!) and fatigue.

Monetarily, everything has been remarkably and surprisingly covered so far, but we learned today that Folfox, which he'll get for 5 weeks, costs about $3,000 per MONTH. Ouch.

As always, thank you for your love, support, and feedback. Be well!

Stage 3

Which is not Stage 4! There was some indication we might be dealing with a Stage 4 cancer, so we're relieved. It's a very aggressive cancer locally (rectum, colon, lymph nodes), but does not appear to have spread to the abdominal wall or any vital organs. The surgeon, Andy Vorenberg, seems great. Direct, honest, open. He looks you squarely in the eyes when he speaks, and doesn't shy away from uncertainty. Though he's not uncertain about much. A quick google search of his name reveals that he also hosted a Royal Wedding party. So....

Anyway, the plan: 1) Chemotherapy: news to me, but there are different chemos for different cancers, and the colon cancer chemo ain't so bad (" 'Nuff said" song?). No hair loss, less nausea than most. Joe will probably be able to keep working more than we had expected. 2) Radiation: kill everything in and around Joe's rectum and colon. This will probably cause some permanent digestive issues. 3) Surgery: remove all that (hopefully) dead tumor, remove tissue around the dead tumor (I believe he called it "margin"), and (more hopefulness) put Humpty Dumpty together again.

It's good to have a plan. And it's good to know we're not Stage 4. Stage 4 Colon Cancer survival rate is about 8%, but more people survive Stage 3 than die from it. And most of them are young! I'm so relieved to be spending the next several months nursing Joe than, like, skydiving with him, you know? So, onward and upward.

Tomorrow we meet with the Radiation Oncologist, and next week with the general Oncologist. I'll figure out why they need to be separate people later. My guess is chemo will start late next week/early the following.

We'll keep you posted. Much love!