Chemo Day 1, "Code Red!"

[FROM SUSAN AND PETER]

So, this will be a blog within a blog...and this is Susan starting things out.  Today was Peter's first day of chemotherapy, and it began at 7:30, and continued right on through, with just enough time for one meal just at the time that the cafeteria closes and switches from breakfast to lunch.  Keeping Peter's weight up is going to be challenging on chemo days.  I did bring some things from home, and hopefully I'll get more creative about this.

 As Peter will recount below, the chemo room (see pic) was a bit daunting.  But friend Debby Blalock came by to keep Peter company and allow me to run a couple of errands.  Debby lives nearby and will help out like this...and Peter really enjoyed her company.  When I returned the Benadryl had just about done him in and he snoozed for a while.

I'll let him tell the "Code Red" tale that took place when he awoke.  After taking a first responder course some time ago I was ready to evacuate a bit farther than the waiting room across the hall.

This entire journey has been quite a whirlwind, and with a chance to sit down with two of Peter's doctors today, we asked some harder questions, and were buoyed by most of the answers we got.  Both doctors were patient, and took all the time we needed without seeming antsy to move on.  I cannot express enough gratitude for this.

Despite the seriousness of this cancer, both doctors declared Peter's to be "curable."  So, what is a cure?  In medical terms, that means a 5 year survival rate with no recurrence.

I was also encouraged by something I read in Anti-Cancer, which got me to consider "the long tail of the bell-curve."  The author explains it through the example of Stephen Jay Gould, in a chapter called "Escaping Statistics."  At age 40 Gould was diagnosed with mesothelioma, a cancer considered "incurable," with a median survival rate (at the time) of 8 months.

Gould found a bell curve chart of his disease.  If you don't remember, they look like this (a generic one):

With apologies to my scientific friends,  I'll try to explain the hopefulness in this situation.  In Gould's case, the peak of the curve would be the 8 month mark, and half of the population would have died by then.  But Gould noticed that the "tail" of the curve, on the right hand side, went on for 25+ months, with quite a few people still alive where the chart ended.

Like Peter, Gould was otherwise healthy, and he was young.  Dr. Willet called Peter "young" today, and declared him otherwise healthy and fit.  The point of all this is that these qualities put Gould (and Peter) in good standing to reside on the right hand side of the chart, and then some.

Gould determined that he would do everything he could to put himself in the best position to ride that bell curve tail for as long as he could.  That ride lasted 20 years, and he died of a different disease.

When Dr. Uronis told Peter that he'd feel OK tonight he said, "Good, because I am going clubbing!"  She laughed, and he told her he was serious (see below) and then she remembered that he was a musician and promised to come see his band play (possibly at The Depot next month).  She told a story of going to see another patient perform, and how much it mean to her to see him being himself and not a patient.  Well, that story just won my heart. 

 Another friend, Susan Rogers, works at Duke and showed up while we were waiting down in radiation (sub basement).  Her visit brightened our spirits (after chemo), and Peter started talking in song lyrics and couldn't stop.

I'll shut up now and let Peter tell his version:   

A short item because I'm going into Durham soon to see the Harvey Dalton Arnold Blues Band at the Casbah club (more on Harvey and this great band later). Walking into a room full of patients undergoing chemo was depressing at first. There were several folks who were obviously futher along in treatment than I am. I was trying to hold off on going to the bathroom, 'cause you had to drag your chemo set-up, e.g., a tray w/ IV bags, along with you. Finally, I dragged myself to the bathroom, expecting a few moments of relief and peace. Alas, it wasn't to be.

I hear a familiar voice- Susan's- say, "Code red! Code red! You've got to hurry up!" I say back, "Leave me alone! This is just like being at home!" Turns out there really was a code red. Some smoke had gotten into the unit's ventilation system and it was unclear if there was a fire nearby. All of us made our way across the floor for a few minutes until it was determined there was no fire in the building.

Here's a great movie scene for musicians and everyone else. This Is Spinal Tap is a much-loved "mockumentary" from the early 80's. It features many inside and other jokes about a loud British band. This scene, oft-quoted by musicians everywhere, features Nigel Tufnel, the group's dim-witted guitarist, explaining that his amplifier "goes up to eleven."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ll7rWiY5obI

- PK