On Bladder Cancer, Heart Disease and Feelings

On Sept. 5th I started my biological therapy for the bladder cancer. It was to be a 6 week program. I finished it today. That's a long damned 6 weeks. Now, I wait until mid-February for my next cystoscopy. At that time the Docs will look for any sign of new tumors.

Meanwhile, my cardiac status has changed. I have had 5 MI's but the last was ten years ago. I have 6 stents but those have been stable for almost as long. So many people have called me an S.O.B. (including my Mother who never caught that she was insulting herself) that I've lost track of the numbers. Now it means Shortness Of Breath and is a symptom of other things. Thus, I had to go for another stress test. They shoot you with a radioactive marker and you climb aboard a treadmill. In just over 2 minutes I started with claudication. (Pain in the calves, named for Emperor Claudius is the closest I'll ever get to a purple toga.) in under 4 I had SOB and chest pain. They stop the treadmill and shoot me with a chemical that fakes a heart attack then take another scan. On the 28th I'll go for more testing.

I asked the Doctor how much sense all of this made. Nobody lives forever. If my choices are cancer or heart attack wouldn't the heart attack be preferable? "Of course it would be. But it's too damned soon for you to make that choice." I accepted that.

Now, after the tragic shootings at Newtown, I wonder why I care. My life has been rich and full. It's time for me to shut up and accept that no matter what happens, it's better than those children got.

Another Cancer Update

Yesterday, I started my latest round of treatments. For the next six weeks (six is the ideal but more on that later) every Tuesday the following will occur.

CAUTION: THE REMAINDER OF THIS BLOG IS NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH.

At 9:30 AM I will head from home to the VA hospital in Newington. On the way I will give the finger to at least two other drivers. (If you don't know why, you've not driven in Connecticut. Turn signals are considered optional. Lane weaving is considered mandatory.) Once at Newington, I go to the check-in to have my card swiped and the to the waiting area. Nurse Bonnie is so efficient that she'll be there with a specimen cup before I can be seated. Then it's off to the restroom where I'll catheterize myself, collect the urine specimen and drain my bladder. The urine is returned to Bonnie who will send it to the lab for a rush analysis looking for microbes. This will take about 45 minutes during which time I'll go to the cafeteria for a bad cup of coffee.

When I return to the waiting room, Bonnie will come out and say aye or nay. If the urine was clean enough I can take the treatment. If not, I go home and return the following week. If it's truly infected, I'll go to the pharmacy for antibiotics. This is why I don't expect to finish the treatments in the ideal six weeks. The last time it took 14 weeks.

If it was a "yes" then I'll take a seat (I always bring a book as the magazines are worse than the average Dr.'s office) and wait for the pharmacy to rush up with the treatment. It can't be prepared in advance due to the nature of the live bacteria. Within a half hour, a tech will come bustling in with a sealed container consisting of 50 million units of Interferon Alpha 2-B and 81 milligrams of Bacillus Calmette-Guerin (BCG is a mild strain of tuberculosis). Bonnie takes me into a treatment area where she will drape my penis, wash it with Betadine,  shoot a topical anesthetic via my meatus, insert a new catheter, drain my bladder again while pushing over it and then inject the meds through the catheter. All this while we chat about anything other than cancer or treatments. ( Naturally, I will attempt to peek down her scrub shirt but I think it's just force of habit.) A brief delay to make certain that I'm not going to faint or do something equally silly and I'm off.

Two hours later, I catheterize myself again in order to remove the meds. Two cups of bleach go into the toilet bowl and stay there for 30 minutes before flushing in order to kill any remaining bacteria. The next day I might have a bit of a fever but nothing all that severe. By Friday, I'll be fine.

So now you know. If you're tempted to pray for me it's OK but probably Bonnie deserves your prayers more for putting up with me every week.

"All right Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up,"

Everyone has heard that beauty is only skin deep. Balderdash! My pancreas is better looking than Robert Redford's. And I'll freely state that after several nips and tucks my bladder looks terrific. 

Yesterday, they did another cystoscopy. NO NEW TUMORS! This means that in a week or so I will go back to biological treatments. Once a week they instill a mix of Interferon and live tuberculosis bacillus into my bladder. It sounds more drastic than it is. The day after I sometimes am a bit feverish but within two to three days I'm back to my old self. (Not that many think that is a good thing.) This means that there is still a possibility that I can avoid the surgery. 

A special note here to those who have prayed for me. I thank you ever so much. No, that doesn't mean that I now am a believer. It means that ,as always, I acknowledge the possibility that I'm wrong and you're right. What the heck, it's happened once or a thousand times in my life.

VA Motto

Every branch of the service has a motto. The best known is the Marine's Semper Fidelis. But there is one motto which every Vet knows, Hurry Up and Wait. That motto will follow us into every phase of the VA Healthcare System.

As you might recall, I've been running to get my Stress test, CAT scan and blood work all complete in time for surgery on 7/27. Well as DeNiro might say, "Fuggedaboutit". Oh yes, I need to get all the testing done but the surgery has been postponed. Now, another Doctor wants to be heard from so tomorrow I'll see one and next week a different one. 

Am I unhappy? Not at all. The new Doc thinks there are other (non-surgical) approaches and I'm all in favor of a more conservative view.

As I was typing this, my phone rang. It was the VA. Tomorrow's appointment is now moved to Thursday. Hang in there folks. At this rate I'll be booked for OB-GYN in no time.

A Modest Proposal

This one is for my fellow Veterans. It has become fairly common around Veteran's Day and Memorial Day for people to say to us, "Thank you for your service." Perhaps it is past time for Veterans to offer our gratitude to some people. Let's thank the families and friends who gave their support to us. Yes, I know that they often had problems understanding how we felt. But they tried. Often they succeeded. They loved us as best they could when we had trouble even liking ourselves.

This 4th of July let's start a new tradition as Veterans. Join me in expressing our thanks to those wonderful souls.

An update + On Doctor's Age

This will be a busy time for me. I need to see the Cardiologist for a clearance, get a Stress test, a CAT scan, and the routine lab work. All this in preparation for surgery at the end of July. At that time they will remove anywhere from half to all of my bladder. I've requested that the surgeon use a curved incision. That way my naked torso will look like a smiley face.

If you are near my age, you've thought, "Why are the Doctors so young?" My urologist is younger than my children. At first, this was disconcerting (if not dismaying) but on second thought it is most desirable. Would I really want someone my age operating on me? Do I relish the idea of someone whose reflexes and stamina have waned probing in my abdomen? What if they keel over during my surgery? (Alright, that one could be amusing.) 

On Having Cancer

There is, of course, much room for disagreement, but I believe that having cancer is boring. I always thought I'd live to be 99 and be shot by the jealous husband of a 30 year old. Now that - is going out with a bang. (All puns intended.) Cancer is the #2 cause of death in America. How mundane!

Well meaning people hold these Relay For Life events. Please folks, don't bother on my account. People who run dress ridiculously and look like they're in much worse pain than I. Wouldn't "Marathon Screwing For Pleasure" be more my style? (Note- it is not "For Life". Be responsible.)

So, I'm thinking I'll give this another shot. For the most part, I'll discuss my battle with Cancer but I'll still have random bursts of weirdness.




The bad news is that there were several tumors. The good news is that they think they got them all. The better news is that all the tumors were in the diverticulum of the bladder so they may be able to excise it without removing the whole bladder.


The bad news is that chemo +/or radiation may be required. The good news is that I'm already bald so who gives a good shit?


The good news is that none of the Doctors laughed at my teenie weenie. The bad news is that all of the nurses did.