A Good Report
A new 21-day round of treatment began today with bloodwork as usual, and as usual my veins were uncooperative. Apparently I am tough-skinned and have tough, shifty veins that like to roll away from the needle. Who can blame them? The second stick by the third tech worked. I still would rather give blood and take the chemo that way than have a port installed like a good many of the other patients have.
The best part of the visit, though, was the visit with the oncologist, Dr. DeVore, who went over the results from last week’s CT scan with me. The liver looked normal, and there was only one of the lymph nodes in the area of the esophagus that was still enlarged, but only very slightly. The esophagus itself also looked normal. In the original CT scan in February, the cancer showed as a thickening of the esophageal tissue, but in last week’s scan the esophagus appeared normal. Dr. DeVore said that the responsiveness of the cancer to treatment at this point, now about four months after diagnosis, was probably in the top five percent of all cases. I asked if he could estimate the shrinkage of the esophageal tumor, and he opined that it might be about 5% of what it was originally.
Of course, as I was warned near the very beginning of this ordeal, evidence of cancer disappearing from scans does not mean that the cancer is completely gone. Indeed it is a near certainty that it is not, so we’re continuing the current treatment regimen – a dosage of Herceptin intravenously, followed by 14 days of Xeloda taken orally, then 7 days to rest up for another round. The doc thought out-loud about increasing the dosage of Xeloda, but pulled back after reminding himself of the intensity and duration of the intestinal side-effects I endured back in March/April, which placed me in the bottom 5% of taking the chemo well. I guess it is confirmed that both my body and my cancer are very susceptible to the chemotherapies.
Between scans we’ll take our cues from the CEA tumor marker that shows up in the bloodwork, although I’ve been cautioned not to fret if it goes up from the current 0.7 since anything under 3 is in the normal range even for people without cancer. Unless that starts tracking upwards significantly, the assumption will be that the therapies are continuing to work.
We’re taking a wait-and-see approach to the arterial claudication in my right leg. Assuming that it was probably caused by the Oxaliplatin that wreaked such havoc on my hands and feet with the neuropathy, we’re going to hope it improves like my neuropathy has since we quit that chemotherapy. My hands are just about back to normal, and I think I may be beginning to see a little improvement with that leg pain while walking. That’s a man-to-man prognosis every adult male longs to hear from his doctor: “It’ll probably go away on its own.” This has been a good day.
The Lord has been good to me through your prayers. The doc thinks so too, and is impressed, especially after what he called “our horrible start.” Please keep it up, and I’ll return the favor for your needs and requests.