Made it to the half-way point today, both for the radiation/chemo segment and the overall treatment regimen.  Up until last week I had been looking forward to this point. But the side effects are kicking in and kicking my butt a bit.  Actually wasn't sure I'd make today's treatment because in the middle of the night I considered a cab ride to the ER.  Mouth sores, mild nausea, sore throat to the point of feeling like throat tissue is peeling and there is some obstruction lodged there.

This didn't happen with the Gemcitabine alone, so it's down to the 5FU. Disappointing because they convinced me that this was the less powerful when it comes to side effects.
Will pour down the cough drops and lemon/honey tea and keep my fingers crossed for some sleep tonight.  Just three more weeks of that brand of poison.

One thing that's encouraging is observing the others undergoing radiation as we come together in the waiting room. A most cordial gang of geezers, all very kind and thoughtful. What's encouraging is they never talk about their cancer. They talk about life. That makes for a very healthy perspective for me.

Never give up.

The radiation treatment has become less annoying and in fact, I find myself looking forward to it (it's the people) and miss it on the off days. The annoyance is largely from the time and difficulty involved in getting there, getting done, and getting back home. Wheelchair bound with neuropathy it takes two or three times as long to do anything as it would a mobile person. So from beginning to get ready to getting home takes more than six hours for a fifteen minute treatment. Makes it a challenge to get the rest of life taken care of.

Not sure if it's the 5FU chemo or the radiation but some untoward side effects have finally shown up. Not serious yet, but getting little sores on arms, in mouth and on my head. And there was a week of "flu-like symptoms" this week, just sniffling and sneezing to the extent of some minor nose bleeding. Feeling pretty good today with all that stuff.

The radiation machine broke down Friday and they had to go look in Kazikistan for an engineer to fix it. So six hours to miss an appointment. A wee bit annoying.

Otherwise an uneventful week, save for getting the powerchair stuck in the mud today, near but not near enough to the front door. Had made two trips over the same spot while trying to move some planters and pots up onto the ramp and porch to get ready for herb and flower time.  It took about two hours to get it extricated, but all is well. Although I had confidence in Plans A, B and C for getting free and into the house, I still found myself getting strangely anxious as I waited while the sun dropped down into the time of uncomfortably cool.

But all's well and I'm kinda looking forward to getting another week of treatment under my belt.

Never give up.

Not sure which day this is, but it feels like a turning point, and not necessarily a good one. I began radiation therapy in earnest this week and I've been troubled and anxious about it for weeks. The main problem is that my peripheral neuropathy condition makes it very difficult to get onto the radiation "table".  It takes one tech to lift my legs, while two hold my shoulders to keep me from sliding off the table.  Clearly this facility is not designed with disabled patients in mind. Seems ironic and absurd to me. The people are great, and that helps make up for it. It's as though they know patients are struggling with the facility and the procedures and they have to be on their toes to offset that. Whatever the reason, I'm grateful for that part of it.  Five days per week for twenty eight sessions. Two done, bunches to go.

Today we also began Flouorouracil (5-FU) chemotherapy which is intended to facilitate or enhance the radiation treatment. I'd prepared myself for the weekly chemo treatments, but was surprised to find the doctor decided to use a continuous infusion pump instead of weekly IV infusions. So I have this damn pump in a bag strapped around my neck for six weeks. This is and will continue to be annoying as Hell. I'm so sick of tubes pouring stuff in and draining stuff out. It's like I needn't be here at all, so long as the tubes and pumps are doing their jobs.  They say the side effects with 5-FU are generally less severe than with Gemcitabine, which I tolerated very well. Doc said I'm more likely to suffer side effects from radiation than from the chemo.  Gotta remember he's trying to cure me of this menace when we approached the treatment thinking cure was not a reasonable option.

That's the troubling part of the day.  I asked him what he meant when he said, at the onset of treatment, that he "thought he could do me some good."  His response today was that although the odds are against us, it's not impossible that we will cure this monster. So long as it's not making matters worse, it's therefore worth doing the treatment. He suggested that the secondary objective was to delay recurrence, which is frequent with pancreatic cancer. And suddenly mortality hit me in the face. Because he said that when recurrence occurs, there is essentially no cure and the cancer will kill you. So in that regard, it's a matter of buying time. For what? How can I use this time to benefit those I love?  How can I use the time to experience the fullness of life? Finally coming to encounter the reality of pancreatic cancer. And it's no fun. Could use some ideas here, folks.

Stay tuned. And don't give up. Ever.