Friday, 26 February 10
An unusual visit to the dentist today. I have
no cavities (not unusual), I have no plaque on the back side of my front lower teeth (also not unusual) and I was not required to take an antibiotic one hour before the
cleaning procedure began (unusual, unprecedented and atypical). This is the first time in six years that I have been permitted to refrain from the intake of an
antibiotic before keeping a dental appointment. The antibiotic is consumed by people taking chemo as a preventative step, due to the bacteria and material that
becomes dislodged and is invariably swallowed during the cleaning process. The thought is that an immune system, compromised by chemo, might not be able to
effectively fight the mass release of bacteria dumped into the stomach during teeth cleaning. The patient could get sick. Why take a chance? So the antibiotic is
prescribed and faithfully taken per the doctors' orders.
But I am not on chemo and my white blood counts have always been strong, even during chemo cycles. I was thus able to successfully and respectively present the
case for no antibiotic to my oncologist. She contacted the dentist and the deal was sealed. I do not wish to have a med floating around in my body
unnecessarily. The refill expiration date shown on the bottle of the antibiotic, 2/26/10, did not escape my notice!
Today therefore represents another step in my return to normal life, a process whereby I aggressively, yet somehow equally cautiously, seek to reclaim ground that I
began to loose to the brain tumor in January 2004. Each small step provides another piece in the brain tumor post operative reconstructive jigsaw puzzle. Things that healthy people take for granted can be major victories for brain tumor people. Some of my deficits from many years ago have also thankfully found resolution during the past few months.
Monday, 22 February 10
The radiologist's report was received today and I am clean. My cbc results also look great. The mini-mental exam is again a perfect 30 and the peg test was 17/18, which is my fastest time ever to insert the golf tees into the holes in the wooden triangle. My next MRI will be in two months, but my next visit to the oncologist will be in four months. I am taking this step towards normalcy (fewer visits to the doctor) because my blood counts have always been strong except when on Carboplatin chemo.
Saturday, 20 February 10
I have been reading through Leviticus in the Bible and have come across several encouraging statements. A person who had an anomaly on or underthe surface of their scalp but whose condition had improved would be examined and if only artifacts of the disease remained, he would be pronounced "clean." What a thrill that must have been in ancient Israel; it is exhilarating modern America today. Being medically clean is important for this life, but being clean forever is much better!
Friday, 19 February 10
A routine bi-monthly MRI was performed today. The scan is clean and I am grateful. 93% of my post op scans have been reviewed as clean, but I have been on chemo for about 46% of the time these past 6 years. How can this be? Well, I have taken chemo even when there was no trace of the tumor. I stayed on Temodar for 2.5 years, since my blood counts remained strong and I tolerated the chemo so well. When the tumor returned and then returned again, I continued to take Carboplatin for two or three months after the tumor fell off of the grid.
This is probably the last time I exit an imaging facility carrying a packet of film. I have been receiving all scans on CDs for some time now, but my oncologist has requested a hardcopy accompany each CD up to this point. Now that computers populate all of the examination rooms at the oncologist's office, I do not think the film will be required. I have been told that the film will fade over time, whereas the images on a CD will not. Another item of interest was discovered today. The most recent MRI machines do not skip as they scan. "What you see is what you get," according to the radiologist. This is a major step forward, since very small tumors could be missed if the MRI machine's skip is larger than the tumor.
Tuesday, 16 February 10
I have completed the book Reach for the Sky, which describes the fearless combat career of Douglas Bader during World War II. Even more interesting than Bader's aerial victories is the fact that Bader's accomplishments as an RAF pilot were achieved without legs! We worn artificial legs and became in legend in his own time. His book is long, but inspirational.
Friday, 12 February 10
Several emails have been received recently about my status. "Your website has not been updated since January 20th. Are you okay?" If you do not see an update, hit the 'Refresh' button on your web browser to force it to reload the page. I do appreciate inquiries, but so far the problem has been with old editions of my blog being displayed, rather than a true absence of a blog entry.
Thursday, 11 February 10
It is snowing today in North Texas, with several inches accumulating. I remember very well the snow in 2004, received on Valentine's day, just 10 days after my surgery. It is amazing to go back and look at those pictures. The children grow up so fast - in the blink of an eye! I give thanks for my wife and children on a daily basis.
Tuesday, 09 February 10
The pictures I submitted to the publisher for my book have been accepted (converted to high resolution) and I now have confirmation that the book has been sent to the type set editor. The prototype edition of the book will be available for my review in about one month. May the Lord cause the distribution of An Unremarkable Man to be far and wide. The goal is to give hope for now and forever. Hope now for those who have lost hope. Hope now because the net proceeds will be donated to the Legacy Brain Foundation. Hope forever because of God's provision for our temporal human estate. I do not aim to profit from the book or this website. I firmly believe that it is more blessed to give than to receive.
Thursday, 04 February 10
Today is the sixth anniversary of the surgery to remove a high-grade brain tumor. On 30 Jan 04 I felt as if I had been hit by a train and fallen into a pit of dispair upon learning of the tumor diagnosis. Surgery on 04 Feb 04, followed by radiation, six rounds of chemotherapy with two recurrencies, dozens of MRIs, along with the incredible support and prayers of many people, have turned that day of sorrow into joy and hope. The Lord, who answered me in the day of my distress, and has been there with me wherever I have gone. (Gen 35:3)
