Setting the Record Straight

It seems that my last series of posts caused some alarm among a few of you who take the time to read these things  on a regular basis.  I really appreciate that some of you come back to check on me every once in a while, so I apologize for any worries I may have caused.  I'd promise not to use such heavy sarcasm in the future but that would be a waste of my words and your reading time.

But, now that I have made it through that stretch of hyperbarics, debridement, five months of opiate pain killers, and detox I will honestly say that I had no idea how much all of that had affected me.  I was in constant pain, had constant fatigue, was lightheaded a lot, was legally blind, and maybe even hit a stretch of depression from the sum of it all over the last 3+ years.

But now that the pain and meds are in the past, I'm back exercising some, have new eyeglasses, and the fatigue is gone--I'm feeling good again, and back to my normal self--age-adjusted, of course.  Just a few weeks ago I thought there would be no way I could even start the Peachtree 10K on July 4th, much less finish it.  While I know I can't run the whole distance, I'm sure I'll make it to the finish line to greet Terry, have the celebratory coldest-beer-ever and bitch about the color and design of the race t-shirt with my running partner Jeff.

All of that will remind me yet again that I'll be affected by cancer for the rest of my life--and getting rid of it in my body won't change that fact.  The ups and downs of this gig will go on forever and I need to remember to recognize when new challenges happen and to not let them get me down.  I have a lot of friends and family who are rooting for me, and a loving wife who will continue to captain Team Mike for many years to come.  After this series of setbacks 3+ years after treatments ended, I have no doubt that more will happen and I need to be ready for them when they do.

All I want now is for Terry to be sure enough that I'm OK to switch from plastic knives to our regular ones at home.   (Yes, Paully, I'm back)

Mike

Some Encouraging News, Some Less So, SFL, and 6 Wonderful Years

I had two appointments this week with doctors.  The first was with the oral surgeon who did the debridement in April.  He thinks that the healing in that area is off to a good start, and he is optimistic that I can avoid the would-be next step in this treatment progression--a jaw resecting.  I'm not out of the woods quite yet, but I can see the edge of the forest--sort of.

My other appointment was with a special opthamologist who examined me for the blurred vision I've had since starting hyperbaric treatments last August.  Blurred vision is a common temporary side effect, but mine did not clear up between the two sets of treatments, or since the end of the last set.  I joked around for ten months that I was legally blind, and guess what? I am!  If they had changed the big "E" at the top of the eye chart to any other letter, I would not have known what it was--so I got that one right.  Below that, I couldn't even guess at it.

They did some tests and it looks like I'm at the early stages of developing cataracts in both eyes.  The likely cause is corticosteriods given to me to reduce swelling in my neck during the radiation treatments three years ago.  Sure enough, my search on the web indicated that this is a known side effect--under the "rare but severe" category.  The plan is to get fitted for new glasses ASAP so I can drive again, and then monitor the cataracts' progress.  At some point, though, cataract surgery will happen--just a matter of how long into the future.

So, let's take stock here.  First I get diagnosed with base of tongue cancer--which unfortunately is not rare anymore.  But, my cancer cells are mucoepidermoidal, which are found in less than 5% of these cases.  Down the road I develop osteoradionecrosis, which occurs in only about 10% of head/neck cancer patients.  For the vast majority of those people, ORN comes and goes one time.  Mine is chronic, and so I head into nearly a year's worth of treatments that include the dreaded hyperbarics, two extracted teeth, and a debridement. That series of events appears to be coming to a good ending, but then I'm told yesterday that I have the "rare but severe" side effect of cataracts from meds I took three years back.

So, with those kinds of odds in my life why is it that when I play the lottery I can't get more than one number on any line of my ticket?  Well, there's three kinds of luck.  Good Luck, Bad Luck, and  SFL (it'll come to you), which I appear to have plenty of in the last three years--medically related.

But today is June 1 and the sixth anniversary of the luckiest day in my life--when I married Terry.  Without her I would not be alive to write this, or enjoy the many years I expect to have as a cancer survivor.

Mike