Monday, November 2, 2009

Insert Raspberry noise here

This morning Marjorie and I met with Dr. G, my oncologist, to get the results from last week's PET scan.

But first, the good news:

1. my weight held steady at 135 pounds
2. all of the tests from the hospital came back negative for infection

(Okay, it's all downhill from here. Way downhill.)

The "everything including the kitchen sink" treatment is not working. The lesions in my liver and lungs have increased in size and number.

So, starting soon, I will be taking an oral chemotherapy drug called Xeloda and a blood vessel growth inhibitor called Avastin. I took Xeloda when I was getting radiation and I've had Avastin before also.

We're gonna try this treatment for two or three months and if it doesn't work then, "we are running out of treatment options," according to Dr. G.

I think we have two options: one is to sign-up for Phase 1 Testing of some new cancer drug; we've started the ball rolling on this. The other option is to give-up. If I do this, Dr. G says I will die in, "a matter of months." I've started my Bucket List and cried - a lot.

Either way, things are not looking so good and I'll probably be doing a lot more crying. Mind you, I'm not giving up, but the prospect of my death is somehow more real now and it depresses the hell out of me. But, no pity please. I will continue to fight this (even if I'm blubbering at the same time.)


Anonymous said...

I am constantly amazed by your strength. You are faceing all possibilies with open eyes. There is a strength there that I cannot fathom and it inspires me. To write about the possibility of your own demise and reject pity, when you have every right to seek it. You did nothing to deserve this. I don't have to tell you to be strong, it is all of us around you that need to be strong for you.

Andrew Lopresti

Michelle said...

You don't know me I'm Andrew's wife. I check in on your blog sometimes but its been a little while. Andrew brought me up to speed tonight and now at 3 am I find myself sleepless, thinking of you. That you can be faced with this situation and remain hopeful, humerous and even willing to share your experience is beyond words. I can't imagine that I, in your situation, would have the grace you have. We will continue to wish you well, and we'll continue to read. Know you have some friends in Virginia sending love your way.

LightyMart said...

Hang in there, Doug. It was good to talk to you - almost 25 years later you sound exactly the same as I remembered back at Tech.

I appreciate how you are documenting your experience and hope that the kitchen sink (and garbage disposal) will dispose of Frank and his minions. Know that there are lots of folks who are pulling for you and I am proud to be one of them.

jpk said...

I'm sitting here holding back my emotions the best I can...not doing so well. You can beat this I have it in you. You're an inspiration to us all. Know our places in life are different now, but you will forever be the guy I went through rookie rage with, the guy I walked to work with, and my friend. Frank picked the wrong guy when he picked on you. Give him the ass kicking he deserves.

jpk said...

With a potential side effect of Xeloda as a loss of fingerprints, if you ever wanted to take up a life of crime...this could be the opportunity.

ExpressYourself said...

A true inspiration to many....

Patty Kilgo said...

I am here in Tallahassee thinking of you and sending positive, strong thoughts your way. I will continue to read and you are always tucked in my prayers. Blessings my friend.