Christmas Colonoscopy

I’m not completely sure why I watch House.  Every episode is the same.  It could be this, if its not this the treatment we give may kill him, what the hell lets give it a try.

But tonight’s episode was super special.  Here I am, 12 rounds of FOLFOX and no one seems to know what the hell I do from here.  On House tonight Dr. House diagnoses cancer when Dr. Wilson, the oncologist, thinks its not cancer.  Of course House is right and wins the $100 bet.  House diagnosis is made with almost no information.  That’s what I need is Dr. House.  Of course they would first treat me for herpes before they realized it was colon cancer.

What is even better is that Dr. Wilson ends up donating a lobe of his liver to transplant to his patient.  This is after a potential donor’s family waffles over the donation based upon a religious belief until the liver is no longer viable.  House states “Great, religion kills another person.”  Beautiful.  What I want to know is where the hell is my oncologist with that liver donation? Step up to the fucking plate doc and give me some liver.

I guess I like House for the same reason everyone else does.  The stories get old, but House will always be a smart ass. That you can rely upon.

I had chemo round 12 yesterday and I’m tethered to the pump giving me a steady diet of that scrumptious 5-FU.  I’ve scheduled a new surgical consult as well as a 2nd opinion oncologist at Huntsman Cancer in Salt Lake City.  In the the meantime, I have the FOLFOX prison blues.

Johnny giving the finger to cancer.

Many of you, even the Johnny Cash fans, may not know that Folsom Prison Blues was originally written as FOLFOX prison blues based upon Johnny’s experience with close family member with Colon Cancer.  However, he later felt that Folsom Prison Blues would better related to the populace.  But, here are some of the original lyrics.

I hear the drip a comin’
It’s rolling round my head
And I ain’t seen the chemo nurse since I don’t know when,
I’m stuck in FOLFOX prison, and time keeps draggin’ on
But that poison is a rollin’ on down each vein I own..
When I was just a baby my mama told me, son.
Always be a good boy, don’t ever use tobacco.
But I smoked and ate a “western diet” just to watch me die
When I hear that chemo drippin, I hang my head and cry..

(enter killer guitar solo)

OK, nevermind, I’m full of shit and made all this up.  But, I still think that it could have been a hit.

It would be easier to do if I thought it was over.  It clearly is not.  My PET scan last week showe basically no better, no worse.  I met with my onc today and he does not believe that I have cancer in my big old man titties.  So thats good.  I’d never live that shit down.  Nonetheless, he has a handful of options that don’t sound too good.

1.  We do nothing and check in a few months.  That makes little sense.

2.  We do FOLFOX less the Oxi to lessen side effects.  If FOLFOX is not working why would eliminating Oxi work?

3.  We move to FOLFIRI.  He was not very convincing that this would be much different.

4.  I talk to surgeons about another resection.

I am going to talk to the surgeons.  But, my last liver resection was an absolute bitch.  I’m not up for that shit again, especially given that my last resection was worthless.  The little bastard tumors grew back faster than we could cut the fuckers out.  I need better than a coin flip odds to do that shit again.

So, one more round tomorrow and a visit with the surgeons in a few weeks.  I may seek a 2nd from another onc as well.  I don’t know what the hell to do.

Thanks for reading.

P.S.  Rotorhead, I tried out a small glass of Laphroaig tonight according to your recomendation. I got say that it is awfully smooth going down but the finish is a little smokey for my taste.  I’ll try it with a good cigar in a few weeks and let you know.

I had PET Scan number 4 this morning.  I really was not expecting good news.  But, being very anxious I stopped by radiology at the end of the day to see if the radiologist had kicked out a report.  He did.  The report indicates that the liver mets are “grossly unchanged” from the last scan.  “Grossly” are you serious? Come on, you are a doctor, this cannot possibly be “gross.”  Suck it up and be professional for god’s sake. You son of a bitch.  Also, some uptake near the “areolas” (i.e. nipples to you and me).  Please don’t tell me I have male breast cancer.  I’ll never live that down on the rodeo circuit.  I can hear it now “Matt has breast cancer in his huge man tits.” Give me a break here.

I had decided some time ago that some form of “celebration” or reflection was going to be necessary after this PET.  It is kind of a turning point.  I am finishing the 12 rounds of chemo prescribed and determining that I am done, or more treatment is necessary.  Either way, it is the first day of the rest of my life, so I wanted to play it out right.  So, I slipped on the “Cancer Condom” tonight (ribbed for the pleasure of no one in particular).  Surely you have read my Cancer Condom post.  Perhaps it is the height of irresponsibility, but I settled down tonight with a bottle of scotch (single malt, of course) and a fat juicy cigar.  Good move.  Scotch on top of a damaged liver and Cigar on top of cancer.  Well though out. I have not had a cigar in more than 20 years.  But, with the cancer condom I am invincible.  It started with a glass of The Glenlivet, a good scotch, but not as pricey as some of the alternatives.  Then, I lit up a Romeo y Julieta Churchill.  It was delightful.  A nice evening, outside, I smoked the son of a bitch down to the nub.  3 glasses of scotch set me up for a long winters nap.  If a creature was stirring, I didn’t give a fuck.

This was a nice way to relax and reflect.  I’m outside, by myself, thinking, with the sound of my swimming pool waterfall, nice mild cigar and scotch. It is the first day of the rest of my life.  Maybe I got 4 years, maybe 20.  Either way, I have a life to live. I need to spend more meaningful time with my kids, work on my marriage, and do something to leave a mark on this world that will live beyond me.  A little deep.  Nonetheless, I have some serious life changes to make.  Regardless of cancer.  I’ve got to quit crying and whining (of course not on this blog because crying and whining is funny) and live life. So, I will keep crying and whining for your pleasure and the humor, but god damn it, I’m going to enjoy what I have left.  That likely will mean more scotch and cigars.  Fuck it.

I made it back. Had a great time in DC. What a great town, except for the whole traffic and trying to find parking thing. But, I saw most of the sights, leaves were dropping, and crazies protesting at the white house. It was a great time.

So, I got PET scan number 4 tomorrow, bright and early. 3rd time was not a charm. Frankly, I’m not holding my breath here. The CEA has been trending upward. That, and I have grown to be an even more pessimistic dick than I was before. And believe you me, I was one giant monster dick before all this (metaphorically, of course).

I am of to Washington DC for about a week. Work for the wife, pleasure for me. One of thos “bucket list” items, although I’m not quite there yet. In my normal healthy pre-cancer life I may have passed on this trip. Can’t do it anymore. So, I wil be gone for about a week and away from the computer. Don’t think I’m dead. Out