Literally, in the street.
March 23, 2010
March 22, 2010
Cancer Cure Perhaps?
Clinical trials by Caltech-led team could open the door to 'game-changing' genetic therapies for cancer, Parkinson's and chronic pain - Pasadena Star-News
PASADENA - Caltech researchers believe they are one-step closer to a cure for cancer, thanks to a "game-changing" genetic therapy that's actually working in some patients.
According to paper published Sunday in the journal Nature, the technique might even work in patients suffering from Parkinson's, Alzheimer's and chronic pain.
Lead researcher Mark Davis said he began to look for an alternative to chemotherapy after watching his wife Mary almost die from treatments.
"She basically said, 'There's got to be a better way than this, why don't you start working on it?" Davis said.
She was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1996 before anyone had proved this kind of genetic therapy could work on animals - much less humans.
"After quite a few years of work here at Caltech and proving that we could do these in animal models, we decided it was ready to go with humans," said Davis, a chemical engineer at Caltech.
This scientific breakthrough is particularly promising for "undruggable" diseases that can't respond to medicine, Davis said.
The therapy works by injecting tiny particles directly into the blood stream of cancer patients. These nanoparticles are stealthy inventions that are programmed to invade the cancer cells in tumors and snip the messenger RNA inside these cancerous cells in two.
This is the key - the therapy interrupts the process of cancer cells replicating by slicing what is called the messenger RNA. If the messenger RNA of these cells is destroyed,
these cancerous cells can't reproduce and tumors can't grow, Davis said.
For the first time, the "game-changing" idea of attacking a disease at the genetic level worked in clinical trials on actual patients.
"We're such complex organisms that you don't know how it's going to work (until you go into clinical trials)," Davis said.
Clinicians took a biopsy of the cancer patients. They found the "smoking gun signature" in the cancer - bits of RNA snipped in half exactly in the place researchers expected.
"It cut at exactly the right place," Davis said. "If you take that away, you take away the cancer."
Scientists have been interested in interfering with a disease at the genetic level since the idea was first floated in a paper by Andrew Fire and Craig Mello in 1998. The pair went on to win a Nobel Prize in Physiology in 2006 for their breakthrough, but they were working on the genes of worms - not humans.
The first phase of the clinical trials began in May 2008, and they are continuing in Los Angeles at the UCLA Jonsson Comprehensive Cancer Center and the South Texas Accelerated Research Therapeutics in San Antonio.
The trials are headed up by a Caltech start-up company, Calando Pharmaceuticals.
PASADENA - Caltech researchers believe they are one-step closer to a cure for cancer, thanks to a "game-changing" genetic therapy that's actually working in some patients.
According to paper published Sunday in the journal Nature, the technique might even work in patients suffering from Parkinson's, Alzheimer's and chronic pain.
Lead researcher Mark Davis said he began to look for an alternative to chemotherapy after watching his wife Mary almost die from treatments.
"She basically said, 'There's got to be a better way than this, why don't you start working on it?" Davis said.
She was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1996 before anyone had proved this kind of genetic therapy could work on animals - much less humans.
"After quite a few years of work here at Caltech and proving that we could do these in animal models, we decided it was ready to go with humans," said Davis, a chemical engineer at Caltech.
This scientific breakthrough is particularly promising for "undruggable" diseases that can't respond to medicine, Davis said.
The therapy works by injecting tiny particles directly into the blood stream of cancer patients. These nanoparticles are stealthy inventions that are programmed to invade the cancer cells in tumors and snip the messenger RNA inside these cancerous cells in two.
This is the key - the therapy interrupts the process of cancer cells replicating by slicing what is called the messenger RNA. If the messenger RNA of these cells is destroyed,
these cancerous cells can't reproduce and tumors can't grow, Davis said.
For the first time, the "game-changing" idea of attacking a disease at the genetic level worked in clinical trials on actual patients.
"We're such complex organisms that you don't know how it's going to work (until you go into clinical trials)," Davis said.
Clinicians took a biopsy of the cancer patients. They found the "smoking gun signature" in the cancer - bits of RNA snipped in half exactly in the place researchers expected.
"It cut at exactly the right place," Davis said. "If you take that away, you take away the cancer."
Scientists have been interested in interfering with a disease at the genetic level since the idea was first floated in a paper by Andrew Fire and Craig Mello in 1998. The pair went on to win a Nobel Prize in Physiology in 2006 for their breakthrough, but they were working on the genes of worms - not humans.
The first phase of the clinical trials began in May 2008, and they are continuing in Los Angeles at the UCLA Jonsson Comprehensive Cancer Center and the South Texas Accelerated Research Therapeutics in San Antonio.
The trials are headed up by a Caltech start-up company, Calando Pharmaceuticals.
March 21, 2010
Politics Must Change
I don't claim to be a follower of either party. But how can a political party be against monumental programs that are designed to make life easier for our citizens almost every time. How can the republican party vote so consistently as a party against landmark legislation each time an opportunity presents itself to better our lot?
My understanding is that they are just against anything government sponsored. They believe that government should butt out of peoples lives, always, and completely. They believe less government is better, and no government is best and I suppose they would vote for that if it was possible, except they would vote themselves out of some pretty cushy jobs.
We have two political parties, the liberal wing and the no government at all wing. It is no revelation that the two shall never agree on anything. The difference in philosophy is too vast between them.
Perhaps it would make sense of we could somehow establish a moderate wing. A party a little closer to what both republican and democrats believe. If you can believe the polls we read, most of us would fall right smack dab in the middle of the moderates.
March 20, 2010
Health Care Vote and a Stupid Statement by Limbaugh
Oh Oh Rush, the bill may get voted on tomorrow and it just might get passed.
Perhaps this is the kazillionaires equivilent to the little kids jumping up and down and screaming, when things don't go their way.
Perhaps this is the kazillionaires equivilent to the little kids jumping up and down and screaming, when things don't go their way.
March 17, 2010
Hazel's Battle with Cancer Part II
The next two months of your life is going to center around your radiation treatment. Hazel's visits there will be the centerpiece of each of her mornings for the next seven weeks; Five treatments, five days a week for seven weeks.
We have no other experience of other radiation centers so this will be the only one we can comment on. It is new, so they have christened it as a state of the art facility. It is clean, and large. When we enter the facility Hazel goes through another set of doors into the treatment area and I, make myself comfortable in the outer room with other patients waiting, or relaxing after the treatment. It is a help yourself environment with coffee, tea, hot chocolate, soda pops and/or whatever a vending machine can offer. In a windowed alcove they always have a couple jigsaw puzzles in progress. Magazines scattered here and there and large wall sized windows letting in lots of light, environmentally and mentally uplifting, with an exclamation point on the mentally uplifting.
On one of Hazel's visits we were amused and amazed by a visit from a lady and her Bichon Frise dog. They were there to help take some of the patients minds off of their reason for being there and just to let them pet the animal, and talk baby talk or dog talk to it. The dog I think received as much love as he gave to the people. The little dog was as cute as the one's they use in commercials with a coat of white and big round black eyes. They also visit the hospital, and senior citizen facilities. God I am sure has special regards for people who are as caring and as giving as they are.
I have become aware that people want to talk about their problem, but will not initiate a conversation until I do. I find that trying to be fairly cheerful and greeting them with a good morning is better than not. After all there is a chance that we might see each other daily for a good portion of Hazel's seven weeks. I am also taken with the good humor of some, even though their stories and prognosis are not always the best. Some are going through an additional series of treatments for one reason or another, but certainly not because things are great. But they keep as cheerful an outlook as possible under the circumstances.
Being that the patient is scheduled for the same time everyday for varying amount of weeks it is run as informally as possible. Hazel leaves me each morning after arriving and goes into the adjoining treatment room where she disrobes. In Hazel's case it is only her top, and she puts on one of those beautiful, and you know you agree, hospital tops. Hazel's time on the behemoth, as she calls it is short. It usually takes a total of fifteen minutes, with ten minutes of that time being taken up by placement so she is in exactly the same spot each and every time. This is vital so accuracy not speed is the watchword. Hazel will be at the half way mark tomorrow and so far, so good. The discomforts she has encountered thus far are occasional pain in the breast and underarm, and itchy skin. The skin is feeling raw from radiation burn which is relieved somewhat with ointment applied in copious amounts. An extra amount of optimism and understanding that the cure, although somewhat painful, is routing out the demons that have trespassed uninvited. Making light of a very serious and sometimes tragic turn of events is hard to do when you really want to fly off into a tangent spouting every curse word you've ever learned, but you cope.
The next two months of your life is going to center around your radiation treatment. Hazel's visits there will be the centerpiece of each of her mornings for the next seven weeks; Five treatments, five days a week for seven weeks.
We have no other experience of other radiation centers so this will be the only one we can comment on. It is new, so they have christened it as a state of the art facility. It is clean, and large. When we enter the facility Hazel goes through another set of doors into the treatment area and I, make myself comfortable in the outer room with other patients waiting, or relaxing after the treatment. It is a help yourself environment with coffee, tea, hot chocolate, soda pops and/or whatever a vending machine can offer. In a windowed alcove they always have a couple jigsaw puzzles in progress. Magazines scattered here and there and large wall sized windows letting in lots of light, environmentally and mentally uplifting, with an exclamation point on the mentally uplifting.
On one of Hazel's visits we were amused and amazed by a visit from a lady and her Bichon Frise dog. They were there to help take some of the patients minds off of their reason for being there and just to let them pet the animal, and talk baby talk or dog talk to it. The dog I think received as much love as he gave to the people. The little dog was as cute as the one's they use in commercials with a coat of white and big round black eyes. They also visit the hospital, and senior citizen facilities. God I am sure has special regards for people who are as caring and as giving as they are.
I have become aware that people want to talk about their problem, but will not initiate a conversation until I do. I find that trying to be fairly cheerful and greeting them with a good morning is better than not. After all there is a chance that we might see each other daily for a good portion of Hazel's seven weeks. I am also taken with the good humor of some, even though their stories and prognosis are not always the best. Some are going through an additional series of treatments for one reason or another, but certainly not because things are great. But they keep as cheerful an outlook as possible under the circumstances.
Being that the patient is scheduled for the same time everyday for varying amount of weeks it is run as informally as possible. Hazel leaves me each morning after arriving and goes into the adjoining treatment room where she disrobes. In Hazel's case it is only her top, and she puts on one of those beautiful, and you know you agree, hospital tops. Hazel's time on the behemoth, as she calls it is short. It usually takes a total of fifteen minutes, with ten minutes of that time being taken up by placement so she is in exactly the same spot each and every time. This is vital so accuracy not speed is the watchword. Hazel will be at the half way mark tomorrow and so far, so good. The discomforts she has encountered thus far are occasional pain in the breast and underarm, and itchy skin. The skin is feeling raw from radiation burn which is relieved somewhat with ointment applied in copious amounts. An extra amount of optimism and understanding that the cure, although somewhat painful, is routing out the demons that have trespassed uninvited. Making light of a very serious and sometimes tragic turn of events is hard to do when you really want to fly off into a tangent spouting every curse word you've ever learned, but you cope.
March 15, 2010
my favorite photoblog
I believe that 1x.com/ has in my opinion the best, most creative snappers I've run across. This photo for example tells many stories. Pick one and go with it. Mine is that the subject has passed over and is returning to his childhood only to learn he will be unrecognized. His sadness will be acute until he learns that the lessons he learned in his childhood in this place prepared him for a happy adulthood. He is satisfied and hopes that all his childhood chums were as lucky. His journey continues.
March 14, 2010
A new Vincent Van Gogh painting, an 1886 painting titled Le Blute-Fin Mill is the first Van Gogh to be authenticated since 1995. For more information see ART BLOG BY BOB.
March 13, 2010
Boys are suckers for new bicycles
When I was a kid my parents bought me a new Roadmaster bike. It had a horn, front light, and a brake light. It was the coolest.
It's A Bike Jim, But Not As We Know It
Designed for 10 - 15 year olds (kids get all the fun, grumble grumble), this Big Eye Cruiser bike can be adapted whenever the teen has a growth spurt, with the frame stretching horizontally. Read and see more at GIZMODO.
It's A Bike Jim, But Not As We Know It
Designed for 10 - 15 year olds (kids get all the fun, grumble grumble), this Big Eye Cruiser bike can be adapted whenever the teen has a growth spurt, with the frame stretching horizontally. Read and see more at GIZMODO.
March 12, 2010
From the book THE BRAIN RULES
From a new book titled: THE BRAIN RULES is this segment on the perfect commercial. It illustrates the rule that the brain does not remember boring things. WATCH.
The Real Story of the Von Trapp Family
The Sound of Music, the super successful stage show, movie, and any other format there might be, came into my thoughts again recently. During a dinner conversation we were discussing how much of the Von Trapp story was true. I conjectured that Captain Von Trapps story was most probably manufactured. Below is perhaps a little insight to the real story.
This video was made in Belgium. A group, to the surprise of regular travelers, entertained them with this dance to Do Re Mi from Sound of Music.
March 11, 2010
Two pictures to define the fifties
Two pictures that define the fifties. The poodle skirt was a fashion statement and Alan Freed was arguably the father of rock and roll. I remember him hosting an afternoon movie from Cleveland Ohio before he hit it big in the rock and roll world. He coined the term rock and roll.
March 10, 2010
This bookcover hit it right on the head for my portion of the world this week. Our climate has unexpectedly changed for the better. It has been really, really nice and I read where it may approach sixty in a day or so. After the winter we've had, I feel like we should keep our good fortune to ourselves or it will quickly change back to snow and cold.
Euro-update 2: Is science art?
Euro-update 2: Is science art?
There are 123 comments to follow. I believe numbers one and seven say what I think about it.
There are 123 comments to follow. I believe numbers one and seven say what I think about it.
March 8, 2010
March 7, 2010
The venerable SPORTING NEWS has picked my team, my beloved Cleveland Indians as the worst, the skunkiest, the most inept group in baseball this year. Yes they are picked by those keyboard tapping group assembled somewhere in New York or Boston, or Los Angeles as the worst in baseball, number 30 out of 30 teams. OH, the cut is deep. So for the other 29 teams don't become too smug, we will return some day or some decade. Here is the other side of CASEY AT THE BAT.
Ted Kooser, US Poet Laureate (2004-2006)
I like poetry. Why? They are really short stories that get right to the meat of the action or they are like 3D movies, they get you right in the middle of your innermost feelings, you have no choice. This video is rather long, but you can watch it in short manageable chunks, guaranteed to get you out of your funks. Was that poetry? Bad poetry maybe.
March 6, 2010
He flung himself from the room, flung himself upon his horse and rode madly off in all directions.
Stephen Leacock
I detest life-insurance agents: they always argue that I shall some day die, which is not so.
Stephen Leacock
Stephen Leacock 1869-1944, was for a period of ten years the most celebrated humouous in the English speaking world.
Stephen Leacock
I detest life-insurance agents: they always argue that I shall some day die, which is not so.
Stephen Leacock
Stephen Leacock 1869-1944, was for a period of ten years the most celebrated humouous in the English speaking world.
Driving to work in the rain.
Thanks Joyce. Driving to work by Robert Birkby reminds me of Spring, which is only 14 days away. We here in Ohio need it badly.
March 5, 2010
March 4, 2010
A Very Personal Cancer Journal
EVEN THE WORD IS TERRIFYING: CANCER
A PERSONAL JOURNEY ALONG A DIFFICULT PATH
FORWARD:
The disease that we all pray does not happen to us, does unfortunately happen to some of us. Hazel is the subject of this narrative. We will follow her journey from discovery to the eventual eradication of all offending cancerous cells. If from time to time I seem to feel her pain, I do. We've been together for fifty six plus years , looking forward to at least ten more years together. The word 'cure' we have found thus far is a word that surgeons, oncologist's, scientists, and others in the field seem reluctant or indeed forbidden to use. It is a fact that there is no cure, so they use percentages to gauge your prognosis. i.e. I believe you will be 95% cancer free when all is done. That is as good as it can get. For the record, Hazel has been diagnosed as having breast cancer, stage one. The journey begins.
The letter came from breast imaging and they had the block checked which stated, "Please schedule another mammogram". This one was inconclusive and probably would be fine on the retake. They saw a shadow they said. Nothing to get too worried about.
The second one concluded there definitely was something and perhaps an ultrasound is called for. Finally, after a total of eleven assorted types of mammogram's and one ultrasound and one needle biopsy, after which the radiologist inserted a marker at the site. She then met with the doctor who would become her oncologist. She and I sat in a tiny examination room out of words, fear and apprehension of the immediate future, and what he would say encompassed us completely, absolutely unable to keep our fear inside ourselves as the doctor entered the room. Small talk at this time was ludicrous so we sat there looking at each other, when the door opened and he stationed himself more or less between us in a room that seemed smaller than my closet at home. We tried reading his face and demeanor. If lack of smiles was any indicator we were in trouble. He didn't waste time or words but found a way to not use the word. He told us that he had found a small malignancy, and the next immediate words became lost in emotions desperately loose in this little room.
Immediately thereafter because speed was of the essence, or they wanted to keep her so busy she would forget her misery, they sent Hazel to the hospital to undergo many tests to provide the surgeon information that would be needed before the operation took place. All the procedures that took place were, according to my wife Hazel by which she will be known for the rest of this narrative, painless, except one. For this she had to report to the nuclear department. This alone should have sent spasms of fear through anyone, but who knew?
The purpose of the visit was to inject radio active dye into Hazel's breast for tracking purposes of the disease. Now a little history is required here, Hazel when facing an operation or some procedure at the dentist can gather herself to weather what is to come as stolidly as necessary, but not this time. The technician was apologetic even before he administered four (4) injections into her nipple. She reports that this was the absolute worst pain ever administered by a health professional. I can't help but repeat the oft used phrase by anyone having to undergo the nightmare that won't go away, why her?
The day of the surgery dawned cold with snow showers. Hazel was scheduled early at the imaging center for the purpose of having a 'wire' inserted into her breast to mark the spot for the surgeon. The results of her many mammogram's had determined that she had an 5mm x 8mm tumor. For the medically disadvantaged that is a very small tumor. The doctor elected to do a lumpectomy, and Hazel agreed. Local anesthetic was not an option, and a general was given. The surgery was over in an hour and a half.
The wait started as Hazel recuperated and we all waited for the doctor to appear with his findings. My sister-in-law had come to sit with me in the reception area, and offer encouragement and a shoulder if need be. We waited.
I thought the plan was for the doctor to come to the reception area and present us with the results of this operation. We waited some more. Finally word was given to me by one of the receptionists to please meet with the doctor in the 'family conference' room. OMG, my heart fell to the floor. What the hell is this? This can't be good. I've seen many too many movies with 'family conference rooms' in them to be lulled into thinking this is nothing but bad news. The sister-in-law and I asked for directions and I, mumbling under my breath, at least I think it was under my breath, but really I could have cared less if the whole place was offended by what I may have said. My whole world was predicated upon a mere doctor. I think I needed a God of some kind to bring this situation to a good conclusion.
We found the room and seated ourselves, waiting again. In just a few minutes the doctor arrived and pronounced without a dramatic moment that he had news and all of it was good. I breathed.
The good news was that he removed all of the tumor and he also removed three lymph nodes so he could have them tested further to make sure the cancer was contained. His tests at operation time were that they were negative. What a beautiful word, negative.
Now a period of recuperation was started. It turned out to be about four weeks. One other good piece of news we received was that the lymph nodes that were sent away for further evaluation came back negative also. Our cup runneth over.
The recuperation time was over. Now began radiation therapy. One treatment of approximately fifteen minutes once a day, five days a week, to total about thirty-five to thirty- six treatments.
Side effects and damage to the skin after approximately seven weeks of radiation being blasted at, in, and around her will be what she must endure. Trying to accept what has happened to her will be a large task. She has only now taken one small step in that direction. Week one is complete and the only side effect thus far is fatigue, itching, and redness at the treatment site.
PART II
The next two months of your life is going to center around your radiation treatment. Hazel's visits there will be the centerpiece of each of her mornings for the next seven weeks; Five treatments, five days a week for seven weeks.
We have no other experience of other radiation centers so this will be the only one we can comment on. It is a new, so they say it is a state of the art facility. It is clean, and large. When we enter the facility Hazel goes through another set of doors into the treatment area and I, make myself comfortable in the outer room with other patients waiting, or relaxing after the treatment. It is a help yourself environment with coffee, tea, hot chocolate, soda pops and/or whatever a vending machine can offer. In a windowed alcove they always have a couple jigsaw puzzles in progress. Magazines scattered here and there and large wall sized windows letting in lots of light, environmentally and mentally uplifting, with an asterisk on the mentally uplifting.
On one of Hazel's visits we were amused and amazed by a visit from a lady and her Bichon Frise dog. They were there to help take some of the patients minds off of their reason for being there and just to let them pet the animal, and talk baby talk or dog talk to it. The dog I think received as much love as he gave to the people. The little dog was as cute as the one's they use in commercials with a coat of white and big round black eyes. They also visit the hospital, and senior citizen facilities. God I am sure has special regards for people who are as caring and as giving as they are.
I have become aware that people want to talk about their problem, but will not initiate a conversation until I do. I find that trying to be fairly cheerful and greeting them with a good morning is better than not. After all there is a chance that we might see each other daily for a good portion of Hazel's seven weeks. I am also taken with the good humor of some, even though their stories and prognosis are not always the best. Some are going through an additional series of treatments for one reason or another, but certainly not because things are great. But they keep as cheerful an outlook as possible under the circumstances.
Being that the patient is scheduled for the same time everyday for varying amount of weeks it is run as informally as possible. Hazel leaves me each morning after arriving and goes into the adjoining treatment room where she disrobes. In Hazel's case it is only her top, and she puts on one of those beautiful, and you know you agree, hospital tops. Hazel's time on the behemoth, as she calls it is short. It usually takes a total of fifteen minutes, with ten minutes of that time being taken up by placement so she is in exactly the same spot each and every time. This is vital so accuracy not speed is the watchword. Hazel will be at the half way mark tomorrow and so far, so good. The discomforts she is, and has suffered, are itching skin in the breast and occasional pains. The skin is feeling raw and a feeling like a burn which is relieved somewhat with ointment applied in copious amounts. The burning although not painless is understandable from the radiation being absorbed. An extra amount of optimism and understanding that the cure, although somewhat painful, is routing out the demons that have trespassed uninvited. Making light of a very serious and sometimes tragic turn of events is hard to do when you really want to fly off into a tangent spouting every curse word you've ever learned, but you cope.
Part III
The ordeal of radiation therapy is coming to an end for Hazel. Monday will be her 36th and final treatment. She tells me that the whole experience for her was much less traumatic than what she thought it would be. The God who is in charge of the dreaded side effects department dealt kindly with her she believes. Yes she has radiation burn. Yes, she has occasional flashes of pain. But it has not completely sapped her energy nor effected her ability to carry out her daily activities. The amount of actual time spent at the radiation center is minimal, and the flexibility of the scheduling should accommodate most people so they can continue their daily schedules as close to normal as possible.
On a personal note, I must say she has been very brave and has throughout the whole ordeal kept as the Brits say, a stiff upper lip. I, on the other hand, am damn glad it's over. At least this portion is over. Now she will have to start a pill regimen that is scheduled to last five years with dozens and dozens of side effects. Each person of course is different and what side effects will effect the individual is of course different.
Posted by jimkitt at 2:48:00 PM 0 comments 
A PERSONAL JOURNEY ALONG A DIFFICULT PATH
FORWARD:
The disease that we all pray does not happen to us, does unfortunately happen to some of us. Hazel is the subject of this narrative. We will follow her journey from discovery to the eventual eradication of all offending cancerous cells. If from time to time I seem to feel her pain, I do. We've been together for fifty six plus years , looking forward to at least ten more years together. The word 'cure' we have found thus far is a word that surgeons, oncologist's, scientists, and others in the field seem reluctant or indeed forbidden to use. It is a fact that there is no cure, so they use percentages to gauge your prognosis. i.e. I believe you will be 95% cancer free when all is done. That is as good as it can get. For the record, Hazel has been diagnosed as having breast cancer, stage one. The journey begins.
The letter came from breast imaging and they had the block checked which stated, "Please schedule another mammogram". This one was inconclusive and probably would be fine on the retake. They saw a shadow they said. Nothing to get too worried about.
The second one concluded there definitely was something and perhaps an ultrasound is called for. Finally, after a total of eleven assorted types of mammogram's and one ultrasound and one needle biopsy, after which the radiologist inserted a marker at the site. She then met with the doctor who would become her oncologist. She and I sat in a tiny examination room out of words, fear and apprehension of the immediate future, and what he would say encompassed us completely, absolutely unable to keep our fear inside ourselves as the doctor entered the room. Small talk at this time was ludicrous so we sat there looking at each other, when the door opened and he stationed himself more or less between us in a room that seemed smaller than my closet at home. We tried reading his face and demeanor. If lack of smiles was any indicator we were in trouble. He didn't waste time or words but found a way to not use the word. He told us that he had found a small malignancy, and the next immediate words became lost in emotions desperately loose in this little room.
Immediately thereafter because speed was of the essence, or they wanted to keep her so busy she would forget her misery, they sent Hazel to the hospital to undergo many tests to provide the surgeon information that would be needed before the operation took place. All the procedures that took place were, according to my wife Hazel by which she will be known for the rest of this narrative, painless, except one. For this she had to report to the nuclear department. This alone should have sent spasms of fear through anyone, but who knew?
The purpose of the visit was to inject radio active dye into Hazel's breast for tracking purposes of the disease. Now a little history is required here, Hazel when facing an operation or some procedure at the dentist can gather herself to weather what is to come as stolidly as necessary, but not this time. The technician was apologetic even before he administered four (4) injections into her nipple. She reports that this was the absolute worst pain ever administered by a health professional. I can't help but repeat the oft used phrase by anyone having to undergo the nightmare that won't go away, why her?
The day of the surgery dawned cold with snow showers. Hazel was scheduled early at the imaging center for the purpose of having a 'wire' inserted into her breast to mark the spot for the surgeon. The results of her many mammogram's had determined that she had an 5mm x 8mm tumor. For the medically disadvantaged that is a very small tumor. The doctor elected to do a lumpectomy, and Hazel agreed. Local anesthetic was not an option, and a general was given. The surgery was over in an hour and a half.
The wait started as Hazel recuperated and we all waited for the doctor to appear with his findings. My sister-in-law had come to sit with me in the reception area, and offer encouragement and a shoulder if need be. We waited.
I thought the plan was for the doctor to come to the reception area and present us with the results of this operation. We waited some more. Finally word was given to me by one of the receptionists to please meet with the doctor in the 'family conference' room. OMG, my heart fell to the floor. What the hell is this? This can't be good. I've seen many too many movies with 'family conference rooms' in them to be lulled into thinking this is nothing but bad news. The sister-in-law and I asked for directions and I, mumbling under my breath, at least I think it was under my breath, but really I could have cared less if the whole place was offended by what I may have said. My whole world was predicated upon a mere doctor. I think I needed a God of some kind to bring this situation to a good conclusion.
We found the room and seated ourselves, waiting again. In just a few minutes the doctor arrived and pronounced without a dramatic moment that he had news and all of it was good. I breathed.
The good news was that he removed all of the tumor and he also removed three lymph nodes so he could have them tested further to make sure the cancer was contained. His tests at operation time were that they were negative. What a beautiful word, negative.
Now a period of recuperation was started. It turned out to be about four weeks. One other good piece of news we received was that the lymph nodes that were sent away for further evaluation came back negative also. Our cup runneth over.
The recuperation time was over. Now began radiation therapy. One treatment of approximately fifteen minutes once a day, five days a week, to total about thirty-five to thirty- six treatments.
Side effects and damage to the skin after approximately seven weeks of radiation being blasted at, in, and around her will be what she must endure. Trying to accept what has happened to her will be a large task. She has only now taken one small step in that direction. Week one is complete and the only side effect thus far is fatigue, itching, and redness at the treatment site.
PART II
The next two months of your life is going to center around your radiation treatment. Hazel's visits there will be the centerpiece of each of her mornings for the next seven weeks; Five treatments, five days a week for seven weeks.
We have no other experience of other radiation centers so this will be the only one we can comment on. It is a new, so they say it is a state of the art facility. It is clean, and large. When we enter the facility Hazel goes through another set of doors into the treatment area and I, make myself comfortable in the outer room with other patients waiting, or relaxing after the treatment. It is a help yourself environment with coffee, tea, hot chocolate, soda pops and/or whatever a vending machine can offer. In a windowed alcove they always have a couple jigsaw puzzles in progress. Magazines scattered here and there and large wall sized windows letting in lots of light, environmentally and mentally uplifting, with an asterisk on the mentally uplifting.
On one of Hazel's visits we were amused and amazed by a visit from a lady and her Bichon Frise dog. They were there to help take some of the patients minds off of their reason for being there and just to let them pet the animal, and talk baby talk or dog talk to it. The dog I think received as much love as he gave to the people. The little dog was as cute as the one's they use in commercials with a coat of white and big round black eyes. They also visit the hospital, and senior citizen facilities. God I am sure has special regards for people who are as caring and as giving as they are.
I have become aware that people want to talk about their problem, but will not initiate a conversation until I do. I find that trying to be fairly cheerful and greeting them with a good morning is better than not. After all there is a chance that we might see each other daily for a good portion of Hazel's seven weeks. I am also taken with the good humor of some, even though their stories and prognosis are not always the best. Some are going through an additional series of treatments for one reason or another, but certainly not because things are great. But they keep as cheerful an outlook as possible under the circumstances.
Being that the patient is scheduled for the same time everyday for varying amount of weeks it is run as informally as possible. Hazel leaves me each morning after arriving and goes into the adjoining treatment room where she disrobes. In Hazel's case it is only her top, and she puts on one of those beautiful, and you know you agree, hospital tops. Hazel's time on the behemoth, as she calls it is short. It usually takes a total of fifteen minutes, with ten minutes of that time being taken up by placement so she is in exactly the same spot each and every time. This is vital so accuracy not speed is the watchword. Hazel will be at the half way mark tomorrow and so far, so good. The discomforts she is, and has suffered, are itching skin in the breast and occasional pains. The skin is feeling raw and a feeling like a burn which is relieved somewhat with ointment applied in copious amounts. The burning although not painless is understandable from the radiation being absorbed. An extra amount of optimism and understanding that the cure, although somewhat painful, is routing out the demons that have trespassed uninvited. Making light of a very serious and sometimes tragic turn of events is hard to do when you really want to fly off into a tangent spouting every curse word you've ever learned, but you cope.
Part III
The ordeal of radiation therapy is coming to an end for Hazel. Monday will be her 36th and final treatment. She tells me that the whole experience for her was much less traumatic than what she thought it would be. The God who is in charge of the dreaded side effects department dealt kindly with her she believes. Yes she has radiation burn. Yes, she has occasional flashes of pain. But it has not completely sapped her energy nor effected her ability to carry out her daily activities. The amount of actual time spent at the radiation center is minimal, and the flexibility of the scheduling should accommodate most people so they can continue their daily schedules as close to normal as possible.
On a personal note, I must say she has been very brave and has throughout the whole ordeal kept as the Brits say, a stiff upper lip. I, on the other hand, am damn glad it's over. At least this portion is over. Now she will have to start a pill regimen that is scheduled to last five years with dozens and dozens of side effects. Each person of course is different and what side effects will effect the individual is of course different.
Posted by jimkitt at 6:00:00 AM 
2 comments:
- Melissa said...
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Go Hazel! I've been thinking of you two.
- 10:47 AM
- Bill Crider said...
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Glad to hear this good news.
- 3:41 PM
Hazel's Feelings
February 22 was my first radiation treatment appointment. I've never been so scared in all my life. I wanted to bolt out the door, run home, get into my chair, cover up, and never leave the house again. Obviously I did not run away. As my radiation oncologist had promised, the treatments were painless---I survived.
Monday April 12 was my 36th and final treatment. My support person, AKA my loving husband Jim and I had been going there for seven weeks and one day, so I entered with a happy heart knowing that it would finally be over.
Imagine my surprise when the final treatment was over, 'the stiff upper lip' collapsed and upon leaving the building-I burst into tears! Instead of being elated I was depressed the rest of the day and part of Tuesday. Fortunately those 'blues' have gone and 'happy' has returned.
I think it was the stress of coping with a nightmare from Christmas Eve until April 12 was finally set free.
March 3, 2010
Flag by Jasper Johns
Laura Vere-Hodge of Christies walks along a gallery containing Picasso's "Femme et Fillettes" (L) and "Flag" by artist Jasper Johns at the auction house in London. The paintings are part of the collection of Michael Crichton, best selling author of Jurassic Park, which will highlight a sale of post-war and contemporary art at Christies in New York on May 11. REUTERS/Kevin Coombs.
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