IT'S OVER!!!

(The cancer treatment, that is.) My life begins again today. No more chemotherapy, no more radiation therapy. I still have some follow-up appointments to come yet, but the treatment portion is over. Let's hope I'm in the 85-90% of Hodgkin's survivors who never have cancer again. (The chemo, unfortunately, makes me more susceptible to other types of cancer, especially lung cancer. The radiation also puts me at a 30% risk of a thyroid problem. I'll be having regular checkups to catch these things early if they do happen.)

Again, I'd like to thank everyone for being so supportive since November; it's been a long eight and a half months. My parents, especially, have taken so much time to drive me to the Clinic and accompany me on my doctor visits to be an extra pair of ears.

People have commented on my being "brave" and "courageous," and in the thick of it, I didn't really see it that way; I just felt like it was something I *had* to do and that it would be over soon (save unproven homeopathic treatments, there's not much alternative). Now, in retrospect, I can more relate to what people were telling me, and I thank you all for your encouraging words.

People have also praised my "openness" of posting to my blog and keeping everyone informed. I know some people prefer to keep these types of struggles secret, but I figured I'd want people who care about me to know why my eyebrows were disappearing and why I was tired every two weeks. Plus, the blog serves as a sort of journal for me to look back and remember what I went through -- although I will *never* forget the bone marrow biopsy or the sore throat from the radiation!

I also hope that, because it's on the web, my blog might be of use to other newly-diagnosed Hodgkin's patients. When I was diagnosed, I spent a lot of time reading WebMD and cancer.gov, but it always helps to hear a first-hand account in an informal tone (which is why I joined the Hodgkin's e-mail listserv).

Tonight I'll be going out with my friends -- we always go out on Mondays, but this time we'll have a reason to celebrate!

-Bryan

better yet

My upper chest is only a little pink, and my radiation oncologist said it shouldn't get any worse than that if it hasn't already, so my body must have just tolerated the treatment well (except for that whole throat thing last week). That's good to hear. My last radiation appointment is Monday, then I'll meet with the doctor in 4-6 weeks. (In the meantime, I'll have another checkup with my lymphoma oncologist.) He reminded me that there's a 30% chance of a thyroid problem in the next few years, so I'll have to be checked for that periodically and, if necessary, given a thyroid pill to ward it off.

But for all intents and purposes, my life can start getting back to normal on Tuesday, July 26 -- and this all began when I saw my general practitioner on Tuesday, November 16. At times I've felt like my life was put on hold, that I was just anxiously sitting around waiting for this thing to pass... now we're finally there, I hope.

better

I'm no longer in horrible pain each time I eat. Yay! I can still feel a little something there, kinda like the "lump" feeling I had before, but it's not painful. It's nice being able to eat full meals again. So far, that has been the only side effect of the radiation; no fatigue, nausea, itching, redness, heart palpitations, or whatever else. My upper chest is starting to get pink, but no "sunburn" yet.

I spent last weekend up at my parents' cottage with my college friends, and we had a great time. It was nice to kick back and see everyone again, especially the ones living out of state. It did rain a few times, thanks to the remnants of 'urricane Dennis, but nothing major and mostly at night. Mostly.

Speaking of hurricanes, my brother and his fiancee (by the way, he's engaged now, forgot to mention that) were in Cancun for training with his company, but had to come home early due to Hurricane Emily. Of course, everyone else in Cancun also wanted to leave, so there was quite the mad dash to the airport. Thankfully, his company was able to send charter flights to pick up their employees and fly 'em to Atlanta, where they had hotel reservations waiting for them.

Or not. The hotel filled up and twenty or so people had to go to another hotel, which didn't have the reservation in the name of anyone present. By midnight, they were finally checked in, and five and a half hours later, they were up and off to the airport by 6:30. That should be plenty of time for a 10:00 flight to Cleveland, right?

Nay! With a scant one person working the booth at Delta, and the woman at the front of the line who took 45 minutes to resolve her situation, they barely got their tickets in time. Mind you, they got their tickets in time -- but not with enough time to check their luggage before the flight. The next two flights were also booked up, so they waited on standby and left around 11:30 or so. They were not happy, to say the least.

But, at least they made it out of Cancun before the storm hit. My aunt from Weslaco, Texas, cut her visit to Ohio short to go home and board up her house in preparation for the hurricane, which looks like it will hit Brownsville today.

In other news, I've just agreed to reorganize the North Ridgeville City Schools website and update it when necessary. This will actually be the first web design job I've done where I'll be paid my standard rate. :)

Speaking of design, I now have some portfolio pieces on my graphic design web page. Right now everything is in PDF format, so I'd recommend a high speed connection if you want to see the full piece. I'll add some faster-loading images later. I have also updated my résumé.

Edited to add: The radiation has also raspified my voice somewhat. Yesterday I could sing a low F for the first time since 8th grade (I went from soprano to bass to tenor in 7-9th grades, respectively).

wince

For the past few days I've been near tears after every meal, not from emotional pain but physical pain. I wince every time I swallow. Mentally, this is almost worse than the chemo, because 1) actual physical pain, 2) it happens every day, rather than one day every 2 weeks, 3) I really *do* feel like eating and everything tastes normal, but it hurts to eat. It doesn't matter if it's soft, hard, liquid, acidic or plain old water; it hurts.

Today was the 12th treatment and they started using the esophageal block. The radiation oncologist said because there are lymph nodes near the throat, they do want to treat that area, which is why they only use the block for half of the treatment. He said now that it's there, my throat should naturally start to heal, but if it's not better by Monday they can prescribe some pain medication.

(When I say "block" here I'm referring to the lead pieces they place between me and the radiation machine. There were just two pieces, but now they've added another T-shaped piece to block exposure to the esophagus.)

Nothing else exciting to report, I guess.

blockage

Yesterday, my throat blocked up. I couldn't finish my lunch, because it hurt too much. Even swallowing water or saliva hurt.

They gave me this "OraMagic" oral rinse to use if this happens, but I didn't have it with me at work, and it came so suddenly. I used it when I got home, and although it didn't make the "lump"/blockage go away, it at least stopped the burning so I was able to trudge my way through dinner. I'm supposed to use this four times a day.

I also have been getting the hiccups randomly for the past few days; I don't know if that's related or not. I guess my grace period is over.

haircut

I got a haircut Saturday, so it's finally back to the way it was before I was diagnosed. Yay! No more carrying a comb, no more checking my hair in a mirror. It's still not 100% filled in yet, but unless you were to stand me next to my October 2004 self you wouldn't really know.

Today was my 10th radiation treatment, so I'm now halfway. Starting tomorrow they're going to use an esophageal block so my throat won't be as exposed and to hopefully minimize side effects. At this moment all I have is a feeling of a small lump in my throat when swallowing (actually just irritation, not a lump), which comes and goes. But this is the third week, so side effects should be more pronounced soon.

The Relay for Life was an interesting experience. It was held at Elyria Catholic High School's football stadium, and there were people walking around the track from 7 p.m. to noon the next day. Local Relay for Life teams have tents and canopies set up, usually for selling food, crafts, raffle tickets, etc. Our church's team sells the "hillbilly taco," which is taco meat poured into a small bag of Fritos with cheese on top, eaten with a spoon.

As a cancer survivor, I was given a bright yellow RfL shirt and medal. At 9:00, they had a little ceremony where a few people talked about loved ones that they lost, and explained the symbolism of a table with an empty chair that was set up. We then walked around the track and lit luminaries that were placed in memory and honor of cancer victims and survivors.

Anyone who knows me well knows that I'm not a very emotional person in the existential sense (which is handy when you have cancer), but being there, looking around at scores of other yellow shirts, seeing the hope in the eyes of people that one day we'll find a cure rather than just a treatment, thinking about how all these people (including me) have pulled through, was very moving.