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.

Day 18. Another largely uneventful few days.  These little side effect bouts are a little annoying at worst. Thought I'd add today because we changed the treatment schedule and wanted to see if  delaying today's treatment four days had some kind of effect. I believe it did. But not much. I'm getting the sense that the chemo dosage is carefully planned to last the duration of the time between treatments. I know the mind has an awful lot to do with this as well, at least in my history it does. Originally supposed to get treatment #3 on Day 14.  I'm sure that I felt the side effect sniffles and cough clear up more and more Monday through Wednesday.  Sure enough, my body seemed to have little or no chemical left today, and my blood work seemed to suggest that was true, with the white cell count climbing back above average into it's usual spot.  So today I began with sniffles and chills even before the treatment was finished. That should last a few more hours at most. (Sure enough. They've disappeared even before I've finished this.) Next week is my "week off" so I'll be off the juice for about 14 days. Still must go for blood work, but no time in the snack chair.

For some reason, today as Brenda opened the IV line, I could "feel" that juice running off to kill some bad cells. Now, I know it could not work that fast, but the thought was more than b.s. as I've experienced such images a number of times as or just before they came about. We'll see.

The Treatment Room nurses are a breed apart. With four nurses covering up to 28 patients with each at a different place in their treatment sequence, these ladies never ever stop running.  Literally.  Always a smile and a gentle word or laugh for us, no matter what they're grappling with.  And they have the eyes of a hawk and are about as fast on the move. Today, Brenda asked me how the anti-nausea med was working at home and I told her the only nausea bouts were unexpected and brought on by coughing. About ten minutes later I sneezed and she jumped from the station across the room to see if I was going to cough and need the bag. Nope, just smiled instead. I think if we scratch our nose in there, we will have a nurse on it checking for side effects.

Thank you all.

Day 9

A pretty strange day today. Began by waking in my recliner to find home health nurse changing a bandage on my IV.  Seemed to suggest the day was pointed downward, but it turned somehow.  Highlights include getting some overdue chores done while working with housekeeper, Tami. Favorite was driving Larry IV (power chair) out the yard to the storage shed and maneuvering it through the wet grass and mud to where I had stored the remnants of RoD. (Ramp of Death). The point? Retrieve a piece of 2X4 lumber to make bed elevator blocks. Found a saw in the shed and even managed to saw the block in half without shredding my hands. Why share? Because elevating my legs in bed this way will keep my lymph edema down, and get my fat butt out of the recliner every night. Just a shred of normalcy at a time when they are few and far between.

Next was a new person coming to help me get a bath. I always get a little anxious about hanging it all out in front of someone I've never met, but I'm learning to live with that. It was a great sponge bath at a time when I must be very careful about skin-borne infections as well as all the others. And it feels great to be clean.

The trip to my long time primary care doc was perhaps the highlight, though I barely made it in and out of the car both coming and going.. He agreed to send a letter supporting my disability claim to the VA based on the draft I left him. This is no small favor, as he needs to edit it, have it processed, copies made and mailed. Better yet, he completed a lab order for the chemo clinic doc asking for three tests and a couple preventive injections they apparently hadn't thought of.

But the real kicker with Dr. O. was him sharing his opinion about my diabetic peripheral neuropathy compared to the obvious nerve damage in the lumbar spine caused by several pretty serious disc problems. His point was that he has never seen neuropathy so serious as to cause the kinds of mobility problems (can't walk a step without a walker) and loss of use of all organs in the lower unit.  Of course, this is not good news for several reasons, the worst of which is that we have to go back to square one with the diagnostics to figure our what if anything can be done to relieve those problems. I suppose it could also call my VA disability claim into some question, although he makes the point that both neuropathy and spinal damage are obviously involved. He just doesn't know how much damage to attribute to each.

What does all this have to do with pancreatic cancer? We the point of taking the time to share it is that I'm learning daily life must go on with cancer and we do have other things to think about and deal with. That's not to minimize the importance and terror of the cancer. But to say that if we dig into life, we can work with it and find a few smiles here and there.

Best to all.

Here's what's up, based largely on my Tuesday appt with Dr. Benjamin
Nadeau. aka ChemoBoy Although I met with ChemoBoy several times while
in the hospital, this was my first visit to his clinic. He happened to
be wearing the same disgusting orange shirt he had on at our first
visit. I really wanted to rip it off and set it on fire in the trash
can.

So, here's the chemo plan. Begin on Nov 19 if possible.We're getting a
bit anxious about delaying, but have to get my infections gone before
we start. That also depends on getting a permanent vein port stuck
into my neck so they can pour in the juice more easily than with a
normal IV. I had underestimated the time involved. As it stands, his
plan is weekly for two months on Gemcitabine, the primary popular
standard chemo for pancreatic cancer.Then two months on 5-FU. (love
the name) 5-fluorouracil along with daily radiation.This is the one
that carries the most yukky side effects.Then another two months on
Gemcitabine.

I was pretty encouraged by my visit with ChemoBoy. Perhaps just
because he's been less downbeat than he was in our first meeting. He
went line by line through the mystery of the CBC blood panel results
and explained them in intelligent adult ways. CB was clear about not
getting involved in any clinical trials and not considering some of
the innovative stuff they're doing at Vanderbilt as it really doesn't
seem to work with Pancreatic Cancer. He did say though that their
practice is affiliating with a larger practice in Nashville that is
doing some more innovative things. He referred to these options as
things to consider "if it comes back". Asked him about that and what
he said was it is possible, though not terribly likely that they got
rid of all the cancer with the surgery. If pushed, he's betting there
are some cancer cells running around, likely near the former home of
the pancreas and spleen.

When I asked him why he seemed more optimistic than in our first
visit, he said that he has to be careful and conservative in initial
visits lest patients, in their hopefulness, hear something that makes
them believe he brings a cure.  When I asked him why he decided to go
ahead with chemo and radiation/chemo in spite of my present and past
infections and problems, he said he was wanting to go forward because
he "thinks he can do me some good".  Having no other place to hang my
hat, I'll take that for now.

Generally, each chemo treatment is a couple hours, though they can
last as long as six. Perhaps a good time to do some leg exercises when
I'm not scooting Larry to the barf room.

 Still have the drain in that they used in hospital to drain the
abscess and that will be there till about the 15th. Using a very cool
self administered IV thingy for potent antibiotics.  My legs have
become substantially weaker, and it's now a challenge to stand more
than a few minutes, while walking more than a few steps with walker is
pretty much out. Maybe I can improve that with exercise.

Finally, weight is down under 290, from 350 six months ago in
hospital, which we all think is a good thing. Must work on keeping my
appetite and eating good stuff to keep diabetes from running amok.

These days are pretty much eaten up by getting ready for some medical
treatment, going to the treatment, having home treatments from Nursey,
and dealing with questions that come up about previous medical
treatments. Gets old fast. But trying to keep making at least a little
progress each day