This week marks the one year anniversary of my beginning treatment for Stage IV colorectal cancer. It's been a long haul marked with a very good response to treatment early on, and a few ups and downs along the way. For the past 10 weeks, my tumor marker number has been stalled between 7 and 8 and the last measurement was actually just a bit higher at 8.6 (remember that the "normal" range is 0-3 and I started out at 176). When you've gone for what seems like a long time with no measureable progress, you start to wonder if the chemotherapy has finally begun to play out. It's a nagging little voice somewhere in the back of your mind that keeps saying "what are you going to do if the numbers start going back up...?". A little good news would be a nice change - just a little something to let you know you're still in the game. When the phone rang on Friday morning around 8:15, I started to grin...the only time the phone rings on Friday morning between 8:00 and 8:30 is when my oncologist has good news. "Hello?" "Your number is 4.6...congratulations...". Whew. Progress at last. Was it the mojo from Loafman two weeks ago that did it? The continued prayers from everyone? Whatever the reason, I'll take it.The picture above was taken last Friday from the top of Mt. Walker in the Olympic Mountains. Buoyed by the good news from my doctor, we headed out of town to our annual camping trip to Dosewallips State Park on Washington's Hood Canal. We go every year with a big group of friends to dig clams and oysters and spend the weekend socializing and catching up. We had a lot of catching up to do since last year - I was diagnosed the day before we made the last trip and a lot has happened since then. It was good to be able to share the latest news. And a weekend camping out and digging clams is pretty good complementary therapy for me.
I also learned this week that our local medical first responders can get to my house within two and a half minutes from the time a call is placed to 911. How do I know this? A little accident on Tuesday night which involved the unfortunate collision of a sharp piece of plastic on an ice chest (getting it ready for our camping trip) and my scalp, produced a copious flow of blood that was just a little on the scary side. I'll spare the details on exactly how this happened, but suffice it to say that I feel kind of stupid. I managed to get a compress on it and stopped the bleeding, but felt a little faint. Long story short, Nancy had the common sense to call 911 in case I passed out. We layed a blanket out with a pillow and I laid down to get the blood flow back to my head, and within minutes, the EMTs had arrived. I felt OK by this time (and just a little embarrassed), and after a quick check of vital signs and my recitation of all the medications I'm taking, they pronounced me OK. Never a dull moment at our house. I apologize to all of my neighbors for frightening them with a rescue vehicle visit to our cul-de-sac - I'll try to be carefull with the deadly ice chest in the future. The ice chest was a premium gift from the American Cancer Society for raising a significant amount of money in the Relay for Life - kind of strange quirk to be nailed by an ice chest from the American Cancer Society. I'll stick with T-shirts for premiums next year.
