I’ve been thinking a lot about death lately. At least I was. Nothing like a trip to the doctor to
instill dread and fear into one’s depths.
Who looks forward to a trip to the doctor? I assume not many.
Why is that? If we aren’t
feeling well or are experiencing grave illness, shouldn’t we be excited about
going to see someone who will make us better? I would say the answer is yes, right?! So I repeat, why do the majority of us
dread going to the doctor? Perhaps
you can sense the foreshadowing in a loaded question…
Those that have been following my story know that after my
trip to Tijuana in June for Bio-immune cell therapy I have had a relatively
energetic and enjoyable summer. A
strict diet, supplement protocol, and arthritic symptoms in my joints and
tendons have made leaving the house a much more tedious endeavor than usual,
but it has been worth it. I put
off a pending bone marrow biopsy to prolong summer bliss in Montana, but upon
returning it’s been time to face the music. Larkin is back at work enlightening 7th graders
to their mathematic capabilities and I am again facing the problem of malignant
cells crowding out my healthy ones in an apparent effort to push up
daisies.
In returning I faced the drill and a fifth hole in my iliac
crest to obtain the most crucial information in this process, the leukemia
blast count in my bone marrow.
Following my second round of chemotherapy in early May my blast count
was at 17%, dismal results in the eyes of my oncologist. I was the second patient in her 25
years to not experience a remission after two rounds of chemo. “You are quite a unique individual,”
she commented at my last appointment.
We had been discussing my latest biopsy and its 19% blast count
reading. She explained that she’d
expected my counts to be in the 80% range due the acute nature of my
diagnosis. “I’ve never seen a case
like yours and want to refer you to the specialist at University
Hospital.” I know I didn’t need
to, but I reminded her about my trip to Mexico and the treatment there. Giving it very little credit she
suggested, “Whatever they’re doing seems to at least be keeping you
steady.” I agreed to a trip to
Denver desiring another opinion with hope that the science-based institution
might have experimental procedures for a case as “unique” as mine.
The question of my blast count is an interesting one. Has it remained relatively steady or
did it drop after my Mexico treatment and is again on the rise? A rising count would deem more
immediate attention, nevertheless, there is no question, more treatment is
necessary. According to a number
of opinions it seems reasonable to assume that the semi-debilitating issues
with my joints are not cancer related.
However, I have felt more recent bone pain and tingling. It is not severe, but it is a sign of
the cancer process and warrants personal concerns. It is time to make another move.
With resistance and concern whether the trip would be worth the
cost and time, I packed up and drove to Denver last week. This was my second visit to University Hospital,
though time on the road is unfriendly to my body, I was happy to be driving as
opposed to the last time when I was delivered. I had requested a phone consultation but was rejected due to
the “impossibility” of it. So, I
found the appropriate check in, deposited ten vials of blood and was soon seen
by the doctor. Five minutes into
the discussion I literally felt the weight of dread sink into my body. I breathed deeply and reminded myself
that I was only gathering information and asking questions. No need to get emotionally
involved. Easier said than
done… Like a tape recorder he
repeated the same treatment plan that I was already aware of and relinquished
any hope of experimental treatments.
He listed the five major potential complications related to an
allogeneic bone marrow transplant, the arsenal of medications involved, and the
glaring reality that if I could not achieve remission via chemotherapy there
would be no point in moving forward with a transplant. He repeated the statistics precisely as
my local oncologist had. At this
point, I was looking at a 20-30% chance of remission after a “salvage” round of
chemo followed by a 50% chance of a successful transplant. And, the interpretation of “successful”
is certainly open for discussion.
So, as a past middle-school math teacher I quickly figured
it out in my mind. If I have ten
marbles and three of them are green (30%), and out of those green marble only
half would survive a transplant, and the suffering and lasting damage that
would come from those treatments… (can you see where this is going?). To go that route I would have to lose
my marbles! At the point of our
conversation where he inquired about my “alternative” treatment in Mexico I
divulged what I had experienced.
And, like a well-trained product of the AMA he retorted the same canned
response every other allopathic doctor has. “The problem with these alternative treatments is the lack
of scientific basis and I’m concerned they’re just trying to take your
money.” Problem is, like the rest,
he had no interest in looking at the scientific-based treatment procedures I
had copies of in my folder. And
yes, it is expensive. But, if you
consider a two-week hospital stay inclusive of all treatments with organic meals at Angeles Hospital was less
expensive than just room and board
for my first two weeks at St. Mary’s Hospital, it leaves one wondering who the real money grabbers are.
I wallowed in fear and dismay for the next two days planning
my funeral. What words I would
write so my loved ones would take the occasion to celebrate me and not mourn
throughout the depressing occasion.
What music would I want played, I keep putting off making that
playlist. There is that favorite
Ben Harper song that always makes me cry and Soulshine by Franti ‘cause that’s my song… Fortunately, I was rescued by Dr.
Perez, the head oncologist at Angeles, during our scheduled phone consultation
while on my way back from Denver.
Intelligent, optimistic, enthusiastic and personal; talking with him
about my blood counts and biopsy and their treatment plan brought hope and
energy back into my being.
Seriously, beyond business, he inquired about personal concerns, shared
success stories of other leukemia patients he’s treated, and shared tangents on
being a husband and father. In my
own mind I’ve questioned how real the optimism is that the doctors at Angeles
always offer. I’ve realized, it
doesn’t matter. They understand
what a potent remedy a positive attitude is and they instill it in their
patients. They realize all aspects
of curing disease and are not policed by a pharmaceutically-based governing
agency. And, they are not trying
to take my money. Dr. Perez
suggested an outpatient approach to my next visit. First, he wants to keep me out of the hospital as much as
possible due to my low white blood cell count. And, second, you can imagine the price difference between
staying at an affiliated hotel as opposed to a hospital room.
Needless to say, I am in a position where my choices are
clear. I can let my insurance pay
for a debilitating treatment, filled with pain and suffering, with slim odds of
success. I can continue to
navigate my own treatment with diet and supplements and slowly add songs to my
before-mentioned playlist. Or, I
can figure out how to pay to go where there are doctors who are using
cutting-edge science, who understand how true healing works and who truly care
for the wellbeing of their patients.
That’s where I am going, and I am going next week. My parents are onboard and my mom will
be joining me on the trip to Mexico.
They have offered to take out a loan on their house to make it happen;
it hurts to think about them going to that extreme. I am asking for help.
If you can donate I express my gratitude in advance. I am also attempting to orchestrate
fundraisers with the help of friends and family. And, as I state on the heading of my blog, I spend time
writing and sharing my process as a way to educate and give back. Please read the top of my blog and
check out the fundraising links.
With humility and love I thank you for reading what I offer.
PS- I am holding a fundraiser this Thursday night.
PS- I am holding a fundraiser this Thursday night.
7 comments:
Here's more "modern day" leukemia survival stories. :-) Just scroll down and you'll find them.
http://www.oasisofhope.com/patient_testimonials.php
Zac, can you email me? That way we can talk more opening. Here's my email address (written this way to avoid spam). sandirog at gmail dot com
Thanks!
"OpenLY" duh sorry.
Hang in there Z... Love Ya lots. Enjoy the SUN in Mexico. Todd R.
Hang in there Z... Enjoy the sun of Mexico. Love Ya, Todd R.
Hang in there Z... Enjoy the sun of Mexico. Love Ya, Todd R.
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