Well, as I come to the end of my cardiac issue, meaning that basically while I am not 100 per cent I am going back to work this Saturday. And, like any significant change life and the emotional and intellectual world that populates that life needs to have some house cleaning done.
As many of you know, this has been an interesting year for me, my family, and my friends. Not only did I begin the year knowing that something was wrong with me, and trying to convince my doctors who did their best to prove that nothing was wrong, I am eight months into this year proven correct that how I felt was an indication that something was not right in Tim's world.
Last December, my Primary Care Doc did every blood test known to man and they all came back negative. Diagnosis at the time: mild depression or seasonal depression.
In February I saw another Doc, the Doc who original exercised my cancer from me seven years ago, and we chatted about how I was feeling. He too, concurred, without any evidence or presentation of symptoms that I was suffering some mild depression and perhaps the seasonal thing was the culprit. Although it didn't explain the 50 plus other seasons throughout my life through which I navigated without depression, but these were learned men and really had my best interests at heart.
So in march I was due for my yearly C-Scan, of which I have had 15 plus over the past seven years, and that's not counting the ones I have had this year and the ones I will have later this year for which I might be lighting out like the Northern Lights this winter. Anyway, I get the scan and I get a call from my oncologist to come in for an unscheduled visit: never a good thing. He shows me the scan of a lymph node about 2-3 times as big as it should be right in the center of my chest, just below the branch of my wind pipes as they go off to each lung in turn.
Fred, who is my Doc, says, this node is too big and we need to go in and see what it is made out of. And after going over the different scenarios I am convinced as this little bugger had been my nemesis all along and causing my general feelings of malaise. So, we set up an appointment for another set of Docs to do the test, surgical procedure that goes down your throat, and with an ultrasound attachment locates the test area and then proceeds to extract a sample.
Cancer. Fuck.
Well, I felt like telling everyone that I told you so, but realizing that now I had a new course from those things I thought I would be doing this year, I held my cards in check and fastened my seat belts for the next part of the plan to develop.
Fred informs me that I might be the perfect candidate for a treatment plan at BIDMC. IL-2. And his office hooks me up with the BIDMC staff, and after an interview, they schedule me for my preliminary screening, which is just about everything. MRIs, C-scans, Stress Tests, and somethings I don't even remember, other than it took all day.
Jim, my new Doc at BIDMC then calls me and says they have found something in the stress test results that may not allow me to participate in the IL-2 program. Damn, and I thought I was getting the silver bullet. But, with another screening, a profusion stress test, they could get a clearer picture of what was wrong with my heart.
So, I show up at the appointed time, they inject me with some radioactive dye and have me do the stress test all over again, this time they take pictures of how the dye is moving through my arteries and around my heart.
On June 3rd I meet with my cardiac Doc, Doogie (his last name is Hauser) and he shows me the pictures that indicate that the bottom part of my heart was not lightening out, meaning that blood flow was not getting to all areas of my heart. We talked about what that meant and also the possibility of a stent, which Jim, my BIDMC oncologist, had said would allow me back in the silver bullet program, IL-2. So, I am all in and then we discuss where to have the procedure done, and I said, because the looming cancer treatment was waiting in the wings, if you can do it this week or next, I'll have it done at BIDMC, thinking if I transfer to Maine Medical Center, I'd have to redo many of the tests, thus delaying my procedure.
I show up on June 7 for the...what I think is going to be a stent or two, and they roll me into the procedure room. The Docs are chatting away and I am able to see some of what is taking place on a TV screen, and then the voices change and for the next few minutes they are saying things like, look at this, and so on...then abruptly the head Doc walks over and says that they are admitting me because my heart looks like the LA freeway at rush hour. Nothing is getting through and only surgery will fix it.
June 10, I am second up for surgery, and they do the deed, cracking me open, re-plumbing the heart, and slam bang, thank you Tim for your contribution to the medical profession and their continued training in cardiac care. Home by Friday, and since, I have been pushing myself to improve my stamina and strength so that I can be where I am today, ready to go back to work. I am currently walking 3-4 miles a day, although later in the day I have a few moments of feeling tapped out, it's all a matter of time before stamina is back to normal, except for this little speed bump coming my way.
On August 26 I will again find the hospitality of BIDMC in my headlights. I go in for the much awaited IL-2 treatments. The side effects are not pleasant, and everything from flowers to small children are prohibited from the care unit that I will be in. IL-2 has some pretty funky side effects, one is that the surface of the body becomes very susceptible to infection, my mind might become a bit toxic, (been down that road before) as well as the body in general, as well as other side effects that are flu like. They recommend that you bring your own toilette paper, if you get my drift.
So, back to work and then back to BIDMC...will update and blog more now that the computer is coming back online.
As many of you know, this has been an interesting year for me, my family, and my friends. Not only did I begin the year knowing that something was wrong with me, and trying to convince my doctors who did their best to prove that nothing was wrong, I am eight months into this year proven correct that how I felt was an indication that something was not right in Tim's world.
Last December, my Primary Care Doc did every blood test known to man and they all came back negative. Diagnosis at the time: mild depression or seasonal depression.
In February I saw another Doc, the Doc who original exercised my cancer from me seven years ago, and we chatted about how I was feeling. He too, concurred, without any evidence or presentation of symptoms that I was suffering some mild depression and perhaps the seasonal thing was the culprit. Although it didn't explain the 50 plus other seasons throughout my life through which I navigated without depression, but these were learned men and really had my best interests at heart.
So in march I was due for my yearly C-Scan, of which I have had 15 plus over the past seven years, and that's not counting the ones I have had this year and the ones I will have later this year for which I might be lighting out like the Northern Lights this winter. Anyway, I get the scan and I get a call from my oncologist to come in for an unscheduled visit: never a good thing. He shows me the scan of a lymph node about 2-3 times as big as it should be right in the center of my chest, just below the branch of my wind pipes as they go off to each lung in turn.
Fred, who is my Doc, says, this node is too big and we need to go in and see what it is made out of. And after going over the different scenarios I am convinced as this little bugger had been my nemesis all along and causing my general feelings of malaise. So, we set up an appointment for another set of Docs to do the test, surgical procedure that goes down your throat, and with an ultrasound attachment locates the test area and then proceeds to extract a sample.
Cancer. Fuck.
Well, I felt like telling everyone that I told you so, but realizing that now I had a new course from those things I thought I would be doing this year, I held my cards in check and fastened my seat belts for the next part of the plan to develop.
Fred informs me that I might be the perfect candidate for a treatment plan at BIDMC. IL-2. And his office hooks me up with the BIDMC staff, and after an interview, they schedule me for my preliminary screening, which is just about everything. MRIs, C-scans, Stress Tests, and somethings I don't even remember, other than it took all day.
Jim, my new Doc at BIDMC then calls me and says they have found something in the stress test results that may not allow me to participate in the IL-2 program. Damn, and I thought I was getting the silver bullet. But, with another screening, a profusion stress test, they could get a clearer picture of what was wrong with my heart.
So, I show up at the appointed time, they inject me with some radioactive dye and have me do the stress test all over again, this time they take pictures of how the dye is moving through my arteries and around my heart.
On June 3rd I meet with my cardiac Doc, Doogie (his last name is Hauser) and he shows me the pictures that indicate that the bottom part of my heart was not lightening out, meaning that blood flow was not getting to all areas of my heart. We talked about what that meant and also the possibility of a stent, which Jim, my BIDMC oncologist, had said would allow me back in the silver bullet program, IL-2. So, I am all in and then we discuss where to have the procedure done, and I said, because the looming cancer treatment was waiting in the wings, if you can do it this week or next, I'll have it done at BIDMC, thinking if I transfer to Maine Medical Center, I'd have to redo many of the tests, thus delaying my procedure.
I show up on June 7 for the...what I think is going to be a stent or two, and they roll me into the procedure room. The Docs are chatting away and I am able to see some of what is taking place on a TV screen, and then the voices change and for the next few minutes they are saying things like, look at this, and so on...then abruptly the head Doc walks over and says that they are admitting me because my heart looks like the LA freeway at rush hour. Nothing is getting through and only surgery will fix it.
June 10, I am second up for surgery, and they do the deed, cracking me open, re-plumbing the heart, and slam bang, thank you Tim for your contribution to the medical profession and their continued training in cardiac care. Home by Friday, and since, I have been pushing myself to improve my stamina and strength so that I can be where I am today, ready to go back to work. I am currently walking 3-4 miles a day, although later in the day I have a few moments of feeling tapped out, it's all a matter of time before stamina is back to normal, except for this little speed bump coming my way.
On August 26 I will again find the hospitality of BIDMC in my headlights. I go in for the much awaited IL-2 treatments. The side effects are not pleasant, and everything from flowers to small children are prohibited from the care unit that I will be in. IL-2 has some pretty funky side effects, one is that the surface of the body becomes very susceptible to infection, my mind might become a bit toxic, (been down that road before) as well as the body in general, as well as other side effects that are flu like. They recommend that you bring your own toilette paper, if you get my drift.
So, back to work and then back to BIDMC...will update and blog more now that the computer is coming back online.
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