Time to Go Back to Work

 
“It's funny how it can be so easy to kill those tumors [on my spine] with no side effects and none of the nausea that comes with chemo, but the tumors in my lungs cannot be treated the same way.”
 
 

My vacation is just about done. That's what radiation has been like for me — a vacation from the chemo. I know that for some people, radiation is tough: the redness, the irritation, the pain. But I had it easy. Just 10 treatments. So now it's back to reality, or at least my reality.

I have one last radiation treatment. At that point, the doctors are pretty certain that they will have killed the two tumors in my spine. It's funny how it can be so easy to kill those tumors with no side effects and none of the nausea that comes with chemo, but the tumors in my lungs cannot be treated the same way.

So then it will be back to my old life. The first thing is to get a new CT scan. I've been off the chemo for a while now. And that's been great. I've felt more like my old self than I have any other time in the last year. But that vacation may have come with a price. What have the lung tumors been doing since they haven't been fighting with the drugs? Have they grown? Are there new tumors? I think it's pretty likely that the news from the new scans will somehow be bad.

And then it's decision time. What do we do next? The choice is pretty basic. Either a new set of chemo drugs, or do nothing. I'm not ready to stop treatment yet, so I guess it will be the new chemo. That's not something I'm looking forward to, but it does hold out the possibility that this time it will work. Of course, it's also very possible that it won't work at all. We won't know until I try it.

I've made some new friends while I've been getting radiation: some of the patients, the nurses and doctors. I probably won't see them again. The chemo ward is two floors and a world away. I wish them all the best. And it will be good to see my old friends in the chemo room. But unfortunately, I can't just make a social visit. It's time to go back to work.

 

Comments (Send a comment)

Nose to the grindstone Leroy... you've got miles to go.

Sent by Brit | 2:44 PM ET | 01-10-2007

An amazing update for anyone who read my conflicted comments a few days ago... the unlikely reality my Brother-In-Law whole-heartedly expected... has actually happened. The radiologist used the words "cancer free" to describe the results of his latest MRI (after surgery, radiation, and chemo for stage 4 brain glioblastoma multiforme). G-d bless him, he had rock solid faith that this would be the outcome. I was so afraid to believe in it based on the horrible statistics for his condition. I was determined to see the reality of the situation (within my own head at least) and the best I could do for him was to zip my lips.

I know he'll always have some aspect of this disease in his life, but this is the absolute best outcome we could have hoped for at this time. I now honestly believe he is doing so well because he steadfastly believed that he would. He wouldn't pay attention to anything that sounded remotely negative and he meditated during treatments and pictured his body attacking the bad cells. I'm humbled by his example and grateful for the lesson and that he is feeling so good and going to be with us for significantly longer than I feared.

And I'm hopeful for you, too, Mr. Sievers and all of you amazing warriors reading this. I FINALLY have faith in the power of positive thinking. I can see my brother-in-law shining his light for others for a long time to come... and I can see that for any and all of you as well.

So when you do the treatments your Doctors recommend... at the same time, visualize those nasty cells disintegrating and getting gobbled up by your kick butt warrior cells and KNOW that you will live a long long time despite what the statistics or current situation might be. At the very least... what can it hurt?

You are all in my prayers... and so is a good dose of gratitude on this beautiful day.

Sent by Nichole | 2:50 PM ET | 01-10-2007

Leroy

Good luck on your next scan! You deserve great one!

Art

Sent by Art Johnston | 2:59 PM ET | 01-10-2007

I think God puts us in the right place at the right time. So you are now in my life to help me and my friend deal with her cancer. She is not fighting and I feel your glorious outlook on life will help her as it has me. Thanks so much for this wonderful gift you have given me and others.

Sent by Betty O'Connor | 3:28 PM ET | 01-10-2007

Speaking about the reality of a cancer patient is very interesting. My mom is currently battling recurring cancer which doctors have labeled "incurable" this time. In a matter of minutes, it seems as if life as we know it has changed forever; reality as we know it has changed. I feel I have a new perspective on everything. Somehow the car that cut me off or the "bad" day at work is no longer important. What is important is to cherish each day we have with our loved ones because every day is a gift.

Sent by Allie Floyd | 3:32 PM ET | 01-10-2007

It is so interesting... I have finished my SIRT radiation. It is time to decide about what to do next. Like you, I am back to chemo, since it is what we have to do.

I was thinking it will be different to be back to the "comfort" of chemo where you know what is happening next and even though it is a roller coaster ride it is one with which we are familiar. We know the people (at least to nod) but we know the nurses and more importantly they know and care about us. They will be asking us to fill them in on our alternate journeys with professional interest but also human interest.

Good luck on your return, I will wave from some of the twists and turns!

Sent by Cherie Brown | 3:49 PM ET | 01-10-2007

There is NO doubt in my mind what your next choice is... bring it on, Leroy... we are right behind you!

Sent by Marianne Dalton | 3:51 PM ET | 01-10-2007

Dear Leroy, I am so thankful for your "vacation" and hope it has allowed you the joy of feeling better and also the chance to renew your reserves. I so respect the way you look it all in the eye and articulate thoughts and feelings along the way. Cheering you onward!

Sent by Sarah | 3:53 PM ET | 01-10-2007

Leroy,

Today was my husband's last morning down in rad also. I wasn't with him today so I wasn't able to say goodbye and wish you well in person. He had the chemo and radiation at the same time. For him it was the opening salvo. After the radical surgery, that is.

You said you were on xeloda for a year. That's one of the chemos he's been on and it won't break my heart to say goodbye to it. Six weeks... I can't imagine a year.

I think for me as a spouse the hardest part other than watching helplessly as the chemicals ravage the person you love, is the not knowing. Is it working? What about that spot on the lung they casually mention in a report but don't tell you about? It's such a silent killer. It's strange for me to think this is going on inside but its not something you feel. You don't feel the growths on your lung until boom its too late.

I have appreciated reading your blogs but mostly I am happy to have talked to you however briefly and witnessed firsthand your spirit.

Thanks and good luck,

Spouse of "cancer boy," as my daughter sometimes jokingly refers to him.

Sent by M. | 4:03 PM ET | 01-10-2007

This year I will be at the five-year mark following treatment for breast cancer, so far cancer-free. I am interested, and have written, on the topic of intimacy/sexuality after cancer, more as it pertains to women. I feel its the "elephant in the room" that isn't discussed nearly enough during discussions about which treatment to pursue. We all want to be better from our illness, and fortunately many of us get well again, but doctors are often ill-prepared to help us return to a high quality of life, particularly as it pertains to sexual issues.

I co-wrote "Intimacy after Cancer: A Woman's Guide" to help people who were in the same situation as me. I talked to many, many women about their experiences coping with sexual issues after cancer. Many of their comments were incredibly moving. Does anyone share my frustration with the amount of information available about this topic?

Sent by Sally Kydd | 4:22 PM ET | 01-10-2007

I was diagnosed, a great shock to all, with stage 3b lung ca last June and not given a year to live. Here I am and this started back to work — part-time. Your articles are my words put more eloquently. I read them every day and thank you for sharing.

Sent by Anne Fitzgerald | 4:48 PM ET | 01-10-2007

We've found that the whole point of continuing one treatment after another and another, Leroy, is to hold it off until someone invents something that works. It's happening every day. Dogged persistence, one foot in front of the other. My husband, who has lung cancer, has had two surgeries, been hospitalized with awful side affects from experimental drugs, and just keeps getting up and going to work and taking the next round of whatever they think — this time Temodar. For the first time in over a year of chemos and biologics, we're seeing a reduction in his tumor. Thank God and may it continue. Keep fighting! Keep believing. You are a survivor.

Sent by Anne Palmer | 5:34 PM ET | 01-10-2007

What do we do next? Is that the question? We catch ourselves asking "Is that all you have? Bring it on." This is my second go around with the mystery disease, the first was esophageal cancer, where I lost 86 lbs in 5 months, almost starving because you can't eat. Got that taken care of and was well on the way to recovery, when I was rediagnosed with adenocarcinoma (again). Adenocarcinoma is a gland cancer. This time it has attached itself to my right hip, naval and 2 lymph nodes in behind the kidneys (pretty sneaky, huh). We just gather up our soldiers, our prayers and dreams. Don't give up and climb back into the chemo room and get ready for another battle. As long as you believe you can keep winning the battles, it won't be long before the war is over.

God bless you Leroy. I learned about this blog from my girlfriend around Thanksgiving. Now I drive over the road delivering new cars, so you are a topic everyday I talk to her or I tell her I will be home tonight to read the blog. Thanks for being such an inspiration, and having such a positive attitude. Keep up the good work. Just remember we are all your soldiers and are on your side, no matter what decisions are made.

Sent by Charlie Parrish | 6:00 PM ET | 01-11-2007

Many thanks to you, Leroy, and blessings, from someone (so far) on the outside. And the same to all those who are struggling with you and who share with us all.

Sent by Connie Brown | 6:24 PM ET | 01-11-2007

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