Targeting Charmin

It’s August 21, 2013. I’m sitting in a room at the University Inn adjacent to Emory University Hospital. I’ve been up since before 5:00 a.m., with lots of thoughts wandering the myriad spaces of my mind. I’ve chosen to begin this blog to allow those who are interested to follow along on my journey. Ours, really, because Muggy is definitely a part of this too! It is a journey I never even remotely considered a possibility. I’ve got cancer. That’s one of those statements no one ever wants to make, but sadly, there seems to be more and more cancer in our world today. My cancer was, or is, in my tonsils. I say was because the tonsils were removed on July 29. So, the tonsils are gone, but now begins the radiation and chemotherapy. A lot of folks, friends and family, are aware of this situation, and I can say that it is absolutely amazing to consider the throng that surrounds me with support, thoughts, and prayers. My intent in creating this blog is to provide a place where anyone who cares to can catch up with what’s currently happening or learn the chronology of these circumstances. Muggy and I traveled here to Winship Cancer Center yesterday for an appointment with the radiation oncologist, Dr. Kristin Higgins. Emory University Hospital is an incredible complex of medical technology and innovation, and it can be a very, very confusing place. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately for me, I’ve become very familiar with these surroundings. We spent a lot of time here two and a half years ago when Muggy’s lupus flared. Now we’re back for my care. As I sat in the waiting room yesterday, I was given a new perspective on one’s circumstances. Yes, I’m here because I have throat cancer, and it might be really easy to settle into feeling bad and simply ask, “Why me?” But I’m not going to do that. The primary reason for my determination not to lapse into remorse is that I know the God I serve, and I am determined that through this, He will be glorified. But yesterday, I was given an additional perspective. As I waited to be called into the examination room, I overheard a couple talking to another patient. The wife has a tumor the size of a lemon on her brain. With treatment, her prognosis is a five-year life expectancy. She’s in her late 40s. They don’t have health insurance, and her medications alone cost about $10,000 a month! OMG! What have I got to feel sorry about? The recovery rate for the cancer I have is 90 percent. I’ve got wonderful health insurance. I’m seeing some of the best doctors in the world. My otolaryngologist, a word I never knew until a few months ago because most of us call them ENT doctors, has told me that he fully expects my cancer to be cured. After I was called into the examination room and the nurse had taken my vital signs, she said Dr. Marcus, a fifth-year radiation oncology resident, would be in, and then Dr. Higgins would join us afterward. Dr. Marcus arrived a few minutes later, and he looked like a fellow who should be on the cover of Gentlemen’s Quarterly magazine! He was very pleasant and knowledgeable as he went through the history of how we arrived at this point and conducted a brief examination of my throat. He departed and said he’d be back with Dr. Higgins. Now understand, we had been given a handout containing Dr. Higgins’s biography and photograph. She appeared to be a very pretty young woman, but I have to admit that I thought the picture was probably particularly flattering. Wow, was I wrong! When Dr. Higgins came in, I was struck by how beautiful she is. No kidding! She was also knowledgeable and friendly, with a clear desire to be helpful and put our fears and concerns to rest as much as she could. In a conversation later, Muggy said it was as though we were in an episode of Punk’d or some other reality show. She was waiting for the host to yell, “Punk’d!” as the two models portraying doctors stepped out and the fat, old, gray-haired doctor came in. For now, we have our Doctors Barbie and Ken! Anyway, it was an informative and, strange word for a doctor’s appointment, entertaining session. I will likely begin radiation therapy the day after Labor Day. The treatment regimen will last for seven weeks. There will be a lot of pain, lots of medication, and lots of lost weight, a benefit in the midst of the other negatives! We are starting down a path that will prove to be long and arduous. I am saying now that I’m ready for anything, but I also know there will likely be days when I get pretty fed up and overwhelmed. Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers. Today we go to Emory Midtown to meet with the medical oncologist, the chemo doctor, for his insights and instructions. I will also undergo a CT simulation. As I understand it now, this involves the creation of a mask for the radiation treatments to ensure that the correct area is accurately targeted. More to follow. Thanks for reading!