Chemotherapy and Attitude

Tomorrow I begin my chemotherapy.  Since it's my first day, it will be my longest; it could take 7 or more hours.  "Normal" days may be closer to 5 hours.  I will go every other week for the next 3 months.  My attitude is this: I'm scared and dread the potential side effects.

One thing everyone, including people with and without experience with cancer/chemo, says is "think positive,"attitude is everything," and "you can will yourself to be well."  I have no quarrel with these statements/sentiments.  They very well may be accurate.  I don't know.  No one really knows.  Individual experiences (success stories) do not justify generalizations or absolute truths.  I should probably mention here that I keep my religious views to myself, so I'm not going there.

Here's my problem: I'm am pessimistic about this whole cancer thing that I'm going through.  Each step of the process -- since April -- has been a colossal failure, medically-speaking.  I have no reason to believe I will magically begin to improve.  It could happen; experience doesn't predict the future. I personally wouldn't bet on it though.

This is when folks say, "think positive," etc.  Great.  I appreciate the support.  But here's the thing: I can't turn off my pessimism like a light switch.  I feel what I feel and am not able to will myself to be optimistic about my chances of "success."  I wish I could flip that switch.  Maybe it will happen on its own, but it's beyond my control.  It would be nice if it would happen before chemo starts tomorrow.

These are just my random thoughts and feelings.  If I've offended anyone, I am sorry.  This blog is about me, however, so if you don't like what I say, feel free to go away.

When call screening bites you in the butt...

My cell phone rang last night around 6 pm with a number and area code I didn't recognize.  As is my usual practice, I let voicemail handle it.  Well, I listened to the message and it was JOE WALSH.  The Joe Walsh.  Yeah.  He called to say "hi" and make me feel better.  My mom knows him and told him about my situation, so he offered to call me to talk.  He also said in his message that he'd call me later this weekend so we get to talk in person, and that he was going to be sending me "some stuff" to make me feel better.

I have to give a big shout out to my mom for contacting Joe, but the rest of it was his idea.  I think that shows what kind of guy he is.  Now if I can just get him to come to Goochland to teach me how to play the solo from Rocky Mountain Way...

Link to American Cancer Society Pancreatic Cancer Overview

http://www.cancer.org/Cancer/PancreaticCancer/OverviewGuide/index

So here's the story...

This all started on April 7 when I became severely jaundiced.  I had a blockage of my common bile duct with sludgy stuff from my gall bladder.  I had an ERCP to clear the blockage and my doctor placed a stent to clear the stricture/blockage.  My body didn't like that and rejected the stent.  So the doc put in another one.  That lasted even less time.  

Then my gall bladder came out, and fresh stents were put in the bile duct.  Two days after coming home from that, I was vomiting and sick as a dog (despite taking Zofran for nausea).  So my surgeon ordered another CT Scan (I've had 3, not to mention an MRCP and EUS) and discovered that my pancreatic duct was dilated (this is bad).  So they readmitted me to the hospital.  By now it was the end of May and they'd ruled out cancer and primary sclerosing cholangitis (a deadly disease of the biliary system) through testing.  The treatment for me was prednisone (this is the standard treatment apparently) but my body did not respond to it.  After checking my pancreas carefully for cancer (MRCP and biopsy), I was scheduled to have a Whipple procedure, a complex surgery to re-route the digestive tract, and remove a large piece of the pancreas and the ducts.  This took place on Monday August 1st.  As soon as the surgeon got me open, however, he saw that my abdominal cavity was full of "nodules" (his term) which he immediately tested.  They immediately came back as malignant and he stopped the Whipple procedure.  

Now I've mostly recovered from the abortive Whipple and am getting ready to start chemotherapy.  On Wed. 8/24 I had a catheter surgically implanted in my shoulder/neck area, and on 8/30 I get my first dose of chemo.  My cancer is inoperable. 

It has been a wild 4 months, and I've been extremely lucky to have the support of my wife, Elaine, and my family and friends. I'd be lying if I said the chemo didn't scare the hell out of me.