Staying Positive

A lot of people whom I respect and trust have encouraged me to stay positive as I go through treatment for metastatic melanoma. Attitude is extremely important, they say, and I believe it because I've said the same thing to many people. I've also had to remind myself from time to time.

However, staying positive can be difficult, even for someone whose natural inclination is to look on the bright side. For me, I learned in one fell swoop that the melanoma had spread from my left kidney to my liver and lungs and pancreas and colon. There were malignant tumors along my spine and underneath my right arm, and there was a smattering on my brain. The point is that a diagnosis of cancer, especially Stage 4, is scary. I described my full reaction to the news in Melanoma without a Cause, so I will just mention here that the diagnosis left us trembling in its wake.

I don't remember any commitments to be positive in those early weeks. I didn't claim "I can beat this!" Nor did I look in in the mirror and say, "You're a goner!" When we emerged a little from the emotional fog, Elvira and I decided that, to the best of our ability, our approach would be practical. We decided to treat the experience as a project, like we used to get at work. Sure, emotions would be swirling in the background, occasionally breaking through, and there would be moments of deep depression when it felt like all was lost. But we always came back to the series of tasks we needed to get through for our project.

Sometimes, I didn't do well, like when the side effects from the combination immunotherapy treatment were so severe that I couldn't eat or drink. But we didn't change our approach. We tried to figure out other ways to get me the necessary nutrition and hydration. All we could do was our best.

I'm not saying this attitude was the key to getting better, and heaven knows I still have a long way to go. But being practical, focusing on the daily tasks that comprise this project may have kept us sane. It may have helped us stay positive, as much as that was possible. And it gave us something to think about, one day at a time.

Pigtherapy

As you can see from the photo, Big Pig got a hold of my iPad and read the report from my latest series of tests before we did. He was, of course, trying to shield us from any bad news, but fortunately there was no need. The PET and CT scans of my body and the MRI of my brain show no new cancer anywhere and continued reduction of cancer on the kidney, which was probably the first stop for the melanoma train in my body. According to the oncologists, these results suggest that the Opdivo continues to work. Very good news indeed!

It has now been a year since I started treatment, with a bunch of ups and downs as described in Melanoma without a Cause. Lately, the news has been all good, as the immunotherapy drugs, supplemented with acupuncture, seem to be derailing the melanoma train. It has not crashed and burned yet, but we re hopeful. Elvira and I are very thankful not only to the doctors and RNs who have treated us, but to all those who give us support. As I hope you realize, the emotional/mental part of this "adventure" is really important in making progress and maintaining a positive attitude as we begin Year #2 of treatment.

I continue to receive occasional notes from people around the country who have read my postings on cancer sites. The most recent is a patient from Nashville who gets treatment at Vanderbilt. He has been on the same regimen as I have for about six months longer, which means he was one of the true trailblazers. He says that he continues "...to respond positively to the drugs and my tumors continue to shrink with almost no side effects." Good news for him and for all of us who are going through this amazing immunotherapy treatment.

I have also received notes from Cancer.net, which may run my guest post in July, and the American Cancer Society, which plans to run our story in one of its newsletters, The Benefactor, in mid-August. I'll keep everyone posted. I appreciate your following my blog!

What a Long, Strange Trip It's Been

Yesterday, I had an appointment with the doctor (Dr. Uro in my book) who discovered my melanoma. I still remember his shaky voice as it came over my phone's speaker. He said the word, and neither Elvira and I could believe it. We asked him to repeat it. He did, and still it didn't register. The third time he pronounced each syllable slowly and distinctly, "Mel-a-nom-a".

It has been a little more than a year since I saw Dr. Uro. He smiled broadly when he walked into the exam room and shook my hand. He has been going through treatment for prostate cancer himself, and we talked briefly about our experiences. After his exam, which revealed no surprises, he reviewed my case on the computer for a few moments before taking a deep breath and saying, "You are a lucky man." I agreed with him wholeheartedly. He made an appointment for me a year from now.

"You will be here," he said optimistically.

"So will you," I replied.

We discovered over the past two weeks that several other friends have also received a cancer diagnosis. For all of them and Dr. Uro, we send our best wishes.

As for my treatment, everything went well. I am now scheduled for an MRI on June 8 and a PET scan on June 12. My appointment to learn the results of those tests is June 14.

As Andy Dufresne says in the Shawshank Redemption, "Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things."