There haven't yet been many side effects from the various drugs yet, so I focused on the exercises I can do in the room to help keep somewhat fit, to prevent bone density loss, and to keep from going stir crazy. Two PT staff persons helped me go through sets of upper and lower body exercises that can be adjusted as my blood platelet count drops during the therapy.
Then I spent 30 minutes on the exercise bike, and quickly discovered, as I always suspected, that stationary exercise is a lot more boring than doing it outside with the sights, the wind, and the weather. Even my push lawn mower and my arsenal of snow shovels are more fun than just doing weights. To help motivate, I bought an MP3 player before I came in, so now I will just have to learn how to load songs onto it.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Settling in for the Long Haul
Today, day minus 5 (until transplant) was a relatively busy one, with chemo infusions; regular rounds by the doctors, nurses and aids, who closely monitor the side effects of the drugs; and a visit by a PT person who set me up with a stationary bike in the room to use. She seemed to be delighted to work with someone in relatively good condition. The "bike" doesn't have studded tires, lights, or fenders, but it will get me through the rest of the winter!
Because renal cell cancer is resistant to most forms of chemotherapy, the chemo and other suppressant drugs I am receiving this week are intended to greatly weaken my immune system before the donor transplant. A full-body shot of radiation on Sunday will complete the one-two punch that will lower my blood cell counts and confine me to this room for the next month.
The side effects of all these procedures will manifest themselves within the next two weeks, including probable hair loss. The various targeted drugs I have taken for the RCC in the last three years have some similar side effects, so I am mentally prepared for the fatigue, possible nausea, loss of appetite, and mouth sores. And with months of recovery, and about a 30% chance of success, I have concluded that this still remains my best option.
On the bright side, I have a room with a view to the south- can't quite see the Mississippi due to an intervening roof, but there is sunshine coming in on the clear days. I can watch for signs of spring on the hills of the Riverside neighborhood across the river. And I now have more time for reading, writing, and other sedentary pursuits.
In the meantime, I have learned to take each day as it comes, and not get overburdened with the enormity of the journey ahead, much like starting out on a long trip by bike, boat, or backpack.
-Andy
Because renal cell cancer is resistant to most forms of chemotherapy, the chemo and other suppressant drugs I am receiving this week are intended to greatly weaken my immune system before the donor transplant. A full-body shot of radiation on Sunday will complete the one-two punch that will lower my blood cell counts and confine me to this room for the next month.
The side effects of all these procedures will manifest themselves within the next two weeks, including probable hair loss. The various targeted drugs I have taken for the RCC in the last three years have some similar side effects, so I am mentally prepared for the fatigue, possible nausea, loss of appetite, and mouth sores. And with months of recovery, and about a 30% chance of success, I have concluded that this still remains my best option.
On the bright side, I have a room with a view to the south- can't quite see the Mississippi due to an intervening roof, but there is sunshine coming in on the clear days. I can watch for signs of spring on the hills of the Riverside neighborhood across the river. And I now have more time for reading, writing, and other sedentary pursuits.
In the meantime, I have learned to take each day as it comes, and not get overburdened with the enormity of the journey ahead, much like starting out on a long trip by bike, boat, or backpack.
-Andy
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Cancer Clouds My Horizon
Once again, I am starting a new adventure- but this one will be entirely indoors. I am back in the hospital preparing for a bone marrow transplant, a type of immunotherapy that has a chance of attacking the renal (kidney) cell cancer I have been fighting for six years. I will be in this room for over a month, and as I write this, I am receiving via IV the third of three kinds of chemotherapy that are used to suppress my immune system for the transplant.
On Monday the 23rd (day zero), I will receive an infusion of marrow and stem cells from a donor- my brother Pete is the match- which will hopefully replace my immune system and attack the cancer tumors. The immune system takes many months to return to normal, which explains the long hospital stay and the additional months of being quarantined at home. The adventure for me is to cope with being holed up in one place instead of being as active as I usually am.
In this phase of the blog, I will talk about that process, as well as other thoughts that come up. Comments are welcome, and I will also be adding more updates and stories to my website, now that I have forced time on my hands.
Thanks to all those who have already expressed their best wishes.
-Andy
On Monday the 23rd (day zero), I will receive an infusion of marrow and stem cells from a donor- my brother Pete is the match- which will hopefully replace my immune system and attack the cancer tumors. The immune system takes many months to return to normal, which explains the long hospital stay and the additional months of being quarantined at home. The adventure for me is to cope with being holed up in one place instead of being as active as I usually am.
In this phase of the blog, I will talk about that process, as well as other thoughts that come up. Comments are welcome, and I will also be adding more updates and stories to my website, now that I have forced time on my hands.
Thanks to all those who have already expressed their best wishes.
-Andy
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