Neighborhoods

I'm still feeling pretty good, so we decided to make a trip back home to the Berkshires before starting chemo again on Thursday. We thought of staying until Wednesday, but then Mother Nature intervened. Yet another snowstorm is on its way, the umteenth one this winter. It's due to start Tuesday and go through Wednesday, both here and on the Cape. This time we have the trifecta coming: snow, sleet and freezing rain. So so we'll head back early Tuesday morning instead.

It feels good to see the old home again. There's a lot of snow, but then again it's the Berkshires. We've seen worse before. Shortly after we arrived, our neighbors down the street stopped up with a beautiful homemade card and lots of good wishes for us. They caught us up on the local goings-on, including the neighborhood youngsters, like their daughter, who are away at college for the first time. Our other neighbors across the street have kept a close eye on our house, taken in the mail, checked often to see that the pipes haven't frozen or the mice haven't taken over, and kept our walkways clear. Their high-school age son has kept our driveway clear - not an easy job this winter. We are lucky to live in a wonderful, close neighborhood. We have lived in our house for 33 years, and our three closest neighbors, all good friends, have lived here for at least 20 years. We all know we can count on each other when needed (our next-door neighbors have always been very generous, inviting us in summers to their lake house and when they are away for the holidays, always offering the use of their house for our kids to stay). We've watched our neighbors' kids grow up, and they've watched ours. One of our neighbors was a kid when we moved here and now owns the house he grew up in. Many other families in our three-block neighborhood are long-time residents.

I was fortunate to grow up in close neighborhoods. For my first seven years we lived in an apartment in the Bronx. I had "aunts" and "uncles" throughout the three-apartment neighborhood. The mothers all stayed home and everyone kept an eye on each other's kids. You couldn't get away with anything. After a few years of taking care of my grandfather, my parents bought a modest house in a small New Jersey town. It was a real country town, not unlike Lenox, and a great place for kids. Again we had a close neighborhood. Being the fifties, TV hadn't quite taken over people's lives yet (of course, there were no computers or smartphones yet, so no Facebook or Twitter or online games or any of the myriad other ways to be constantly distracted from real life), so we kids played outside and the adults gathered in the evenings to socialize. We were in and out of each other's houses, usually not bothering to knock if the neighbor was home. Just a shout and then open the door. Nancy grew up in a similar neighborhood in upstate New York as a young girl.

I have to mention our wonderful weekend. Our girls came up from the city. It was so good to see them. We celebrated my son's birthday (I can't believe I have a 38-year old son. I still remember when our rallying cry was "Don't trust anyone over 30"). The grandkids couldn't get enough of their aunties. The only thing that could have made it better was if Atlanta, home of my older son and his wife, was just around the corner.

Hair

Well, it was bound to happen, right on schedule from what I'm told. I was combing my hair after my shower when three hairs floated to the floor. A little later Nancy found five or six more hairs, so there's no denying the inevitable. Nancy promises she won't leave me when I go bald. We'll see. I'm trying to decide what kind of wig to get. There's the prosperous old guy look - longish silver hair perfectly styled, wavy, maybe with a small ponytail. But then I'd have to dress nicely, maybe even wear a cravat. Not my style. There's the Tom Brady look. After all, to quote Rex Ryan, we're both married to supermodels. But after what the Patriots did two weeks ago, I don't think I could do it. (An aside: shortly before that unbelievable playoff loss to the Jets I bought pajama bottoms with the Patriots logo, official NFL gear no less. Of course it was on sale. But, did I curse the Pats? It's too awful to think about. I don't wear the pajamas any more, may burn them in a small purification ceremony.) But back to the wig. I could get a mullet, but then my kids would never speak to me again. A mohawk would probably be the easiest, should be the cheapest, but then no one would ever speak to me again, except maybe my grandson. Maybe I should just stick to a baseball cap. Funny thing is, I've wanted to shave my head for a long time to save a bit of time in the morning, but was prevented from doing so by the very woman who promises not to leave me now. Go figure.

I'm still feeling good, hardly coughing at all. Lots of energy. Going to enjoy it while I can.

One last thought. There's a scandalous story my older sister tells about how, when we were kids, I would suck on root beer barrels, which I loved and she hated, and then blow the smell into her face. Now anyone who knows me knows I would never do anything like that. Well, yesterday a package came in the mail from my niece, her daughter. It contained four bags of root beer barrels! Can I never end this slander?

Snow Day

Well, it finally snowed for real here. The kids have a snow day and, I guess, we do too. Can't go anywhere until the roads are clear. It's an icy snow, very pretty to look at. Here's a picture from our living room early this morning:



And here's one from a bedroom:



Nancy went out to do some shoveling just as the boys with the snow blower showed up. She decided to help them anyway. I was content to watch. It's supposed to clear up and be sunny by early afternoon so we're hoping to take a walk by the bay later, something we haven't done for a while. The bay is always beautiful, will probably be more so with the snow. I'm still feeling pretty good, have mostly lost the cough, and am just biding time till the next chemo next week. Hopefully my updates will continue to be this boring.

The Mall

Day 13 of my first cycle of chemo and I'm feeling remarkably well. My cough seems to be taking a break this morning, so I really can't complain about anything (darn!). It's been rainy here at the Cape so yesterday we had to take our daily 2-mile walk at the mall. I'm not a big fan of mall walking; I'd rather be outdoors any time. But if it's raining, the mall is a good alternative. The Cape Cod Mall is only a mile or so from our place, very convenient. It's not a bad place to walk if you have to walk indoors. It has two main corridors and lots of side alleys. One loop around is about a mile (15 min.). We usually go for two or three loops. I don't really like malls - I much prefer to shop in a nice downtown or even an outdoor plaza - but our mall isn't the worst. It's usually pretty lively, has a comfortable feel and even has a real, working merry-go-round. It also has a good-sized Barnes and Noble, a Best Buy and, for the ladies, the usual 10,000 or so specialty clothes stores. And lots of comfortable chairs for the bored husbands to fall asleep in. There are the usual restaurants, food court, multiplex, specialty stores and anchor stores found in all malls. A nice bonus is the presence of a Trader Joe's, my favorite food store, next door to the mall. Next to Trader Joe's is a Christmas Tree Shop, the world center of impulse shopping. No one goes in there looking for anything specific, but just fishes for the latest unbelievable bargains. Fig and pomegranate marmalade imported from France for only $1.29? Who can resist. A 12-piece barbecue set for $2? Gotta have it. Two hundred AA batteries for only $1.50? Why not. Should last the grand kids at least a week. Needless to say, we've bought a few things, but never an actual Christmas tree, there. There's also a Borders, but not a very large one, nearby, as well as a Home Depot and pretty much any other kind of shopping  a person could wish for. In other words, we live close to the shopping heart of the Cape. As for bookstores, there are, thankfully, a number of excellent independent bookstores in the area. And, of course, there is downtown Hyannis with lots of stores and restaurants. One of our favorite walks is downtown and the harbor. More on that later.

Nurse Nancy

It's time to introduce my partner on this journey, my wife of 45 years. Her name is Nancy but she's known throughout the family, even through the younger generations, as Nurse Nancy. You have symptoms? She has a diagnosis. Your doctor said it's A? She'll tell you it's B, and maybe you need to consider seeing a more competent doctor. The really scary thing is sometimes she's right. She's not a real nurse, she's a retired teacher. But as a caregiver, she's the best. She has an instinctive feeling for what to do when things get mucky. Maybe it comes from raising four kids and doing it so well. She's a beautiful Irish redhead (and no, Al, she doesn't dye her hair) of a certain age, who looks at least 20 years younger. She's often mistaken for my daughter. She graduated from a Catholic college, all girls, where there were basically three career options: teacher, nurse or nun. Anyone who knows her would get a good laugh trying to picture her as a nun. Just try telling her what to do (I gave up long ago), then duck. She would have been a good nurse, but made the right choice of career as an elementary teacher. Many happy parents and kids over the years would agree. She's the friendly one in the family. She has a ton of friends and is responsible for about 100% of our social life. I'm just along for the ride.

Right now Nurse Nancy has three or four theories about my persistent cough, the only symptom I'm having (the chemo has been remarkably kind to me so far, knock on wood). She has explained each theory to her son, an actual doctor, who has carefully explained why each one is unlikely to be true. This has, unsurprisingly, had little to no effect on her thinking. So the four possible causes remain prominent in our conversations, and the cough, which is apparently due to irritation of my esophagus from a tube used for anesthesia during my chest biopsy, continues. But still, I wouldn't want any other partner for this journey, or for the bigger journey we've been on for the past 45 years.

Saturday

Day 9 of my first cycle and I'm feeling much better. Fever is gone, as is the fatigue of the past couple of days. We had a pretty active day. Took a 1 1/2 mile walk in the cold but sunny morning, then went to watch my 7-year old grandson's tennis lessons. Kids came over afterward and I managed to lose five straight games of Ducks in a Row to the 7-year old. I wish I could say I was going easy on him but by the end I think he was going easy on me. Maybe I can blame it on the cancer.

Cancer

I'm still getting used to the idea that I have cancer. I don't feel like I have cancer, more like I have a slight flu. I look the same, except a lot skinnier, probably weigh what I weighed in, maybe, high school. I've lost a good 10% of my body weight since the summer. Have to wear a belt now to keep my pants up, even the ones that used to be tight. I eat like crazy now, more than I used to, but can't put on weight. But at least it is staying steady.

Even though we have quite a bit of cancer in the family (mom, three of her siblings, three first cousins), I always thought it would be heart disease that got me. I guess watching your Dad die of a heart attack when you're 16 will do that. I'm a bit of a healthy food and exercise nut and fortunately have a very healthy heart. But I never could figure out what to do to avoid cancer. It seems like so many of the risk factors are beyond our control, especially if you live and work in the real world.

I realize I'm one of the fortunate ones. My older daughter sent me a link to a blog of a friend of hers who has a much worse cancer than mine, has undergone very painful chemo and radiation treatments for three years with no end, and no promise of a cure, in sight. He's a very brave guy with a wonderful spirit and sense of humor. I can only hope I would be that good in his situation.

First Side Effects

Well, I guess it couldn't last. Felt a little punky last night. Turns out I had a fever of about 99.6 degrees.  As the evening wore on I began to get chills and my temp climbed to about 100. Not yet at the threshold for calling the hospital (100.4 degrees), but as the night wore on temp kept going up. At 2 AM it was 100.1. We decided to call the NP at Beth Israel (BIDMC). He is an ultra-sharp guy, like having another doctor on the case. My doctor is in Greece for a week's vacation, lucky guy. The NP rescheduled my tomorrow appointment to today and off we went to Boston. Traffic in the city was terrible even though it was well past rush hour. When we got there, they did lots of blood work (including something with two little bottles that looked like those small liquor bottles?!). It looks like I either have sinusitis or an infection in the urinary tract. But my blood counts are good so no one is too worried. An antibiotic was prescribed and hopefully that will clear things up. Got to keep watching my temperature. It is 101 right now, called back to Boston, they said to keep an eye on it and call if it hits 102. That's the technical stuff. My wife has been doing all the driving, running around, nursing. She's a trooper. Tonight I'm hoping to feel well enough to watch my favorite show, The A-Team, on video, courtesy of our library.

My Journey Through Cancer

I really should have titled this "Our Journey" since my wife of 45 years and great patience is on this journey with me. The title comes from my follow-up visit with the thoracic surgeon who did my chest biopsy. After all the technical discussion of my results and possible outcomes, he wished us "good luck on your journey". It was a very human sentiment that touched us both. 

Some history first. It was in late October of last year that my back went out, and then developed into a very painful sciatica on my left side. After an x-ray and an MRI, I was diagnosed with a badly herniated disk. Two neurosurgeons both recommended a micro-discectomy to solve the problem, and one was scheduled for the week after Christmas. A pre-op chest x-ray showed a mass in the center of my chest and a CT-scan determined it was enlarged lymph nodes. The possible causes were lymphoma, an infection or inflammation. At this point I have to mention my younger son and his wife, both medical people who live on Cape Cod with our beloved grandchildren. They convinced us to have my testing at the Cape where my son practices, and in Boston as needed. They wanted to be able to help and guide us to the best treatment possible. They have been on top of this journey from the beginning. I couldn't be in better hands. My other three children and spouses have been with us all the way too, calling often to check up on me. Their love and support is as important to us as any treatment I may receive. We are also blessed with our wonderful extended families who have also cushioned us with their love and concern. And so many friends have expressed support and often helped us in tangible ways.

Fortunately, we have a small condo on the Cape where we'll be staying through my course of treatment. The first step was a bone marrow biopsy at Beth Israel Hospital in Boston. Thankfully it was negative. A few days later a biopsy was done here at the Cape on the nodes in my chest, and the result was lymphoma. So now I officially had cancer. The question was had it spread and if so how treatable would it be. Kind of an anxious time. A PET scan was scheduled at Beth Israel. The results could not have been better - the cancer had not spread beyond the chest. The diagnosis was Stage 2 diffuse large B-cell Non-Hodgkins lymphoma, which is a type of lymphoma common to older men like myself. Stage 2 is an early stage. This form of lymphoma (there are many) is curable and in my case the cure rate is quite high with chemotherapy. So I consider myself fortunate and am very optimistic for the outcome. 


Chemotherapy was prescribed, an 18-week regimen consisting of six 3-week cycles of drugs and recovery. The first chemo session was at Beth Israel; the rest will be done at Cape Cod Hospital, about five minutes from our place. I was very happy to find out that a three week cycle consisted of four drugs being infused on the first day, about five hours at the hospital, followed by four days of an oral med, then sixteen days of recovery. So only one day every three weeks at the hospital. And a lot of free time to kill (I had to give up my teaching this semester for the treatment). This is the sixth day of my first cycle and thankfully I feel great. But I'm warned the it won't last, that fatigue will definitely set in, nausea may occur, hair will definitely disappear, and a host of other side effects are possible. We'll see. I'm an annoyingly incurable optimist so I'm going to go with I'm feeling fine. As for the hair, there's not much there to begin with.


I decided to do this blog for several reasons. For my wife and me it is a record of this journey. For anyone else who chooses to read it, my blog may be informative, particularly for someone diagnosed with a similar condition. For my family and friends, when they are curious about how we're doing they can take a quick look here. I hope to keep it updated daily. After all, I have plenty of free time now.


Finally, my prayer for anyone who is diagnosed with cancer is that their prognosis will be at least as good as mine.