Radiation Therapy--The Gift That Keeps on Giving

Can you say "osteoradionecrosis"? What it means is "Bone death from radiation" and is a side effect in about 11% of head/neck cancer patients who get treated with radiation. Well, count me among those 11%'ers. About a year ago I got an ulcer in my mouth that exposed parts of my jaw bone under the skin. That first one went away and the doctors hoped it was a one-time event. Then, about six months ago I started to get them on a regular basis, and it was decided that this condition needed to be treated now, before it got any worse. If not treated it will eventually cause my jaw bone to deteriorate to the point of needing reconstructive surgery.

While this would become a very serious problem if left untreated, at this stage it can be treated with good confidence that these ulcers will heal (but no guarantee that I won't get them in other parts of my jaw). The treatment is a long series of sessions where I'll be in a hyperbaric oxygen tank for 2+ hours at a time, Monday through Friday for about 8 weeks. Not the best of news for someone who is claustrophobic! Can you say "Valium"?

Somewhere around the middle of that time, they will be extracting a tooth that has been compromised beyond repair by the radiation, and also scrape out any dead bone they find. Can you say, "Hurts like a m_______r"?

A CT scan next week will give the doctor an estimate of how much bone death there is, but she won't know for sure until the tooth is extracted and she can poke around and see for herself.

While all of this sounds gruesome, at this time I'm not in much pain and the upcoming treatments and procedures will reduce the chances of the osteoradionecrosis getting to a much more advanced stage. Can you say, "precautionary measures"?

I will admit, and Terry will attest, that I didn't take this news well for the first few days. We both had a very bad deja vu event when we saw the hyperbaric treatment facility--it looked a lot like the dark and dingy radiation treatment facility of two years ago. And, the realization that I have to start every weekday for two months by getting up very early and going to a hospital to lay in a big glass tube for 2 hours, was a bit of a disappointment. We are also disappointed that we had to cancel this coming week's trip to my hometown to see family and friends. Can you say, "pissed off"?

But, my short pity party is over and it's now time just do what I have to do to keep fighting those nasty Prairie Dogs in a different way, starting Monday. Can you say "Game face on again"?

So, for the next 8 weeks, while those of you on the East coast are enjoying breakfast at home, send me some good vibes that the Valium is working and I'm not trying to bust out of the hyperbaric chamber with the hammer I'm going to conceal when I go in there. Can you say, "I hope he's not serious"?

Time will tell.

I'll post again once they have scheduled the mid-point procedure and ask for a Team Mike meeting for extra special Good Vibes.

Mike

"I had a hard run..."

Well, I managed to finish my second Peachtree Road Race after completing cancer treatments in 2009, but barely. It was the hottest starting temperature ever for the race, nearly 80 degrees (and very humid) by the time I crossed the starting line a little after 8 am.. Today's paper reported that 28 runners went to the hospital, and 269 others were treated for heat-related problems at the finish line. I felt a little light-headed after finishing, but that went away a few minutes later with the coldest, best-tasting beer I ever had.

The most significant part of yesterday was that it was a typical Peachtree Race, and an uneventful 4th of July, which tells me that I'm having the best revenge possible against cancer--just getting back to a normal life. Well, at least a new-normal life. I've learned to cope with the lingering effects of chemo and radiation, and understand that I will have some 'maintenance' things to deal with for the rest of my life, but those are easily managed with a little attention to them from time to time.

Even while I celebrate this return to normalcy, I know that I can never say that my battle with cancer is over with for good. But, while the Prairie Dogs are in retreat, I'll live my life as fully as I can, and look forward to another Peachtree 10K in 2012.

A special thanks goes out to Mary Jane Handlan who added a local touch to the Livestrong t-shirt that is the only shirt I'll ever wear for the Peachtree and the ATL half-marathon races again (click on the photo for a close-up). The city of my choice to battle prairie dogs from now on is DECATUR. GEORGIA. Please free to kick Prairie Dogs' ass in your own home town.

mike