Season Finale of "As the Tumor Turns"
Part 3
Now, having completely lost all my faith and trust in doctors I wasn't sure what to do next. I'd graduated from UCLA so my medical insurance through them was due to expire. Since I was eventually going to have to transfer my whole case file back to my HealthNet Primary Care physician anyway, I decided to print copies of my whole UCLA/Ferrante case file and take it back to my good old doctor in Glendale, John.
John was my medical doctor when I got clean and sober in '91, and during my Hep C scare in the mid-90s. Needless to say, he was shocked and dismayed to find me in such terrible pain. He used a revolutionary new medical instrument called a "blood test" to see what was going on (which was more than Mr. Epidural Specialist ever thought to do). Turns out my erythrocyte sedimentation rate was way out of whack, suggesting auto-immune disease, e.g. rheumatoid arthritis. He referred me to a rheumatologist for further testing and ordered some more blood work.
On Tuesday, September 6, I woke up and got in the shower before going to get blood drawn and to meet the rheumatologist. In the shower I coughed. Nothing big, just a little cough like probably every other morning of my life. But this cough triggered such blistering pain in my mid and lower back that I started to lose consciousness. I ended up on my knees in the tub screaming and unable to stand for several minutes. When I finally got to my feet, I called my dad and asked him to drive me to ER.
At the hospital, they put me in a CT Scan machine without missing a beat, while attaching me to a morphine drip. The CT Scan showed shadowy lesions over roughly 80% of my spine and a large mass inside the left lung. I wasn't going home for awhile. I started to really worry when I saw that my room was on the Oncology floor. It was really quite amazing to me to find that I had been assigned to no less than six specialists: Oncologist, Pain Management, Pulmonologist (sp?), Radiologist, Nuclear Medicine and GP that oversaw the whole team's work.
During my ten day stay, most of the time was spent a) adjusting my medication so that I could function without screaming or drooling; and b) attempting to collect and analyze tissue samples for diagnostic purposes. This latter proved to be quite difficult.
On Wednesday, I was subjected to a bronchoscopy, which is where they shove camera equipment through your nose and down into your lungs. Of course, the purpose is to get a good look at anything unusual, and collect tissue samples if possible. In my case, they couldn't see the lung mass because it was located outside of the bronchial tube proper. This was a good thing, since it reduced the fear of sudden strangulation, etc, but it was bad because it meant they couldn't reach the mass to take a biopsy from the inside.
Next they tried to needle biopsy the lung mass through the front of my chest. Again, this approach didn't succeed in collecting a usable tissue sample, and to make matters worse, they managed to give me a fine pneumothorax (lung puncture, essentially), which took another two days and a very painful procedure to correct. The third time was a charm, biopsying the adjacent lymph node instead of the lung mass itself. Meanwhile, many other scans and tests etc kept me from being too bored. Five "hot spots" were detected in my brain, eighteen on my spine and pelvis and another 2-3 on my liver. But, until they collected that lung mass biopsy, they couldn't issue a proper diagnosis. These were "growths" or "hot spots", but never tumors or cancers.
Once they got a good tissue sample and were confident that my arsenal of medications was properly balanced, they sent me home. I'm too tired to talk about the massive medication fuckup that ensued at checkout. Be grateful, it's a long and obnoxious story. Suffice it to say we got it straightened out. Next morning, my oncologist called me with the diagnosis: Level IV non-small cell adenocarcinoma, a very common type of lung cancer. Because it has already metastasized into multiple organ systems, we will not be attempting to remover any cancer via surgical means. Chemotherapy will provide the bulk of my treatment (I'll post more about this when I've learned some more). Also, presumbably because of the dangers of swelling, I'll be starting radiation therapy on my brain starting this coming Tuesday.
And that, my dear friends is the story of my cancer, so far. Sorry for the long drawnout posts but I can't seem to get LJ cut tags to work today.
Now, having completely lost all my faith and trust in doctors I wasn't sure what to do next. I'd graduated from UCLA so my medical insurance through them was due to expire. Since I was eventually going to have to transfer my whole case file back to my HealthNet Primary Care physician anyway, I decided to print copies of my whole UCLA/Ferrante case file and take it back to my good old doctor in Glendale, John.
John was my medical doctor when I got clean and sober in '91, and during my Hep C scare in the mid-90s. Needless to say, he was shocked and dismayed to find me in such terrible pain. He used a revolutionary new medical instrument called a "blood test" to see what was going on (which was more than Mr. Epidural Specialist ever thought to do). Turns out my erythrocyte sedimentation rate was way out of whack, suggesting auto-immune disease, e.g. rheumatoid arthritis. He referred me to a rheumatologist for further testing and ordered some more blood work.
On Tuesday, September 6, I woke up and got in the shower before going to get blood drawn and to meet the rheumatologist. In the shower I coughed. Nothing big, just a little cough like probably every other morning of my life. But this cough triggered such blistering pain in my mid and lower back that I started to lose consciousness. I ended up on my knees in the tub screaming and unable to stand for several minutes. When I finally got to my feet, I called my dad and asked him to drive me to ER.
At the hospital, they put me in a CT Scan machine without missing a beat, while attaching me to a morphine drip. The CT Scan showed shadowy lesions over roughly 80% of my spine and a large mass inside the left lung. I wasn't going home for awhile. I started to really worry when I saw that my room was on the Oncology floor. It was really quite amazing to me to find that I had been assigned to no less than six specialists: Oncologist, Pain Management, Pulmonologist (sp?), Radiologist, Nuclear Medicine and GP that oversaw the whole team's work.
During my ten day stay, most of the time was spent a) adjusting my medication so that I could function without screaming or drooling; and b) attempting to collect and analyze tissue samples for diagnostic purposes. This latter proved to be quite difficult.
On Wednesday, I was subjected to a bronchoscopy, which is where they shove camera equipment through your nose and down into your lungs. Of course, the purpose is to get a good look at anything unusual, and collect tissue samples if possible. In my case, they couldn't see the lung mass because it was located outside of the bronchial tube proper. This was a good thing, since it reduced the fear of sudden strangulation, etc, but it was bad because it meant they couldn't reach the mass to take a biopsy from the inside.
Next they tried to needle biopsy the lung mass through the front of my chest. Again, this approach didn't succeed in collecting a usable tissue sample, and to make matters worse, they managed to give me a fine pneumothorax (lung puncture, essentially), which took another two days and a very painful procedure to correct. The third time was a charm, biopsying the adjacent lymph node instead of the lung mass itself. Meanwhile, many other scans and tests etc kept me from being too bored. Five "hot spots" were detected in my brain, eighteen on my spine and pelvis and another 2-3 on my liver. But, until they collected that lung mass biopsy, they couldn't issue a proper diagnosis. These were "growths" or "hot spots", but never tumors or cancers.
Once they got a good tissue sample and were confident that my arsenal of medications was properly balanced, they sent me home. I'm too tired to talk about the massive medication fuckup that ensued at checkout. Be grateful, it's a long and obnoxious story. Suffice it to say we got it straightened out. Next morning, my oncologist called me with the diagnosis: Level IV non-small cell adenocarcinoma, a very common type of lung cancer. Because it has already metastasized into multiple organ systems, we will not be attempting to remover any cancer via surgical means. Chemotherapy will provide the bulk of my treatment (I'll post more about this when I've learned some more). Also, presumbably because of the dangers of swelling, I'll be starting radiation therapy on my brain starting this coming Tuesday.
And that, my dear friends is the story of my cancer, so far. Sorry for the long drawnout posts but I can't seem to get LJ cut tags to work today.