$%#^&*#%$^@*!!!!!!!

While I'd much rather be writing all of you to tell you something wonderful like "I won the lottery!" or "I was appointed Chocolate Czar!", unfortunately as many of you know, that's not the case. I had my usual MRI on Monday, and through a phone appointment on Tuesday found out that the stupid tumor is growing again. I haven't actually seen the MRI yet, but supposedly it's in the range of 1-2 cm. It grew fast. The past few days have been spent examining the possible treatments, and tomorrow morning I have an appointment with UCSF to see if I fit into any clinical trials that look interesting. Otherwise, it's going to be some kind of surgery (either normal or radiation), then treatment with Avastin and some kind of chemo (not Temodar). Did it come back because I stopped the Temodar? My oncologist didn't think so - it wouldn't have come back so quickly. The director of the support group said, "Don't even think about it. It doesn't really matter anyway."

What effect this will have on my lifestyle depends on what treatment I end up going through, but what affect it has is very clear....

Now be honest....

How would *you* react to someone saying "I have cancer, but I'll buy you a drink."

And I used to think dating was hard....

(Here is the full article. It reminds me of Alicia's amazing, yet also terribly sad, story)

When the temporary becomes permanent

Perhaps the boil was a blessing in disguise. It forced me to skip a full cycle of chemo,which really brought home the level of misery the process imposed on my life. While it is still a challenging decision, and I hold no judgment against any who would maintain their repeating treatment, I've decided that for me taking a long term break is the best path. There is no clear evidence for or against maintaining the treatment, nor for breaking off it. But there is slightly better evidence that my life will be more fulfilling and simpler to manage without being chained to chemo. And yes, I know permanent is a very strong word. But there is strength in optimism.

Now if only that stupid boil would remember that it is supposed to be temporary....

On a forced break

I was supposed to start another cycle a few weeks ago, but a boil on my face put the kibosh on my chemo. Skipping a cycle has made me reconsider the decision about whether to continue on with the chemo at this point. Stay tuned....

In the meantime, here is an amazing performance called "Apoptosis is my favorite word" that is about my friend's various encounters with cancer and cancer research.

Derelict in my duties

I know I haven't written anything for quite awhile. Which generally indicates that the rest of my life has taken over and nothing significant is happening. At least as far as "Tha Tooomah" is concerned.

I'm still taking the reduced dose, starting on Cycle 15 Monday. The last cycle felt even better than the previous. As before, there was a little fatigue, but I managed the digestion well and was able to work almost the complete week. It does make me wonder if the chemo is actually doing what it's supposed to do, but then again, there isn't clear evidence what a higher dose would be doing right now either.

The Dorland Hospital is in full swing right now, with two cancer patients, one of whom is also fighting a new boil on his face (can you guess who that might be?), and another patient with a recurrent autoimmune problem. My freighbor has become the local medic, ambulance driver, chef, and therapist, all while still working her normal full time job. If I weren't a Jew, I'd say she's a saint.

Which brings up the strangeness of the different cancers. The other cancer patient at the Dorland Hospital is currently being treated for a return of leukemia. His chemo is way more invasive than mine. His immune system has been beaten down to almost nothing, and his blood count is so low he's deprived of sufficient oxygen. Yet he's managing to push forward as well as he can. I'm not sure why I'm mentioning this other than to say that right now, he needs support more than I do. I wish I knew what could be done.

There is one thing that hopefully will help. If you recall, last March we held an ultimate tournament to raise money for the Lance Armstrong Foundation. The LAF works on combating cancers of all types. Two weeks ago, there was an event in Austin called the Ride for the Roses, featuring....Lance Armstrong! I was invited (because of generous donations from many of you) and I brought along one of the keystones to the tournament, Renata. The way the event worked was as follows. Those who contributed a certain amount achieved a certain "level" of VIP status. I was at the lowest level. However, our event as a whole drew in what would be considered the highest level. While we couldn't convince them to bump us up because of that, we did get a few extra perks from Colleen, the amazing grassroots organizer for the LAF. While we were there, we promoted our event by handing out some discs and chatting it up with as many people as we met. The event overall was very inspiring, and motivated us to try to keep our tournament moving forward and possibly spreading across the country. We've already reserved the fields! Remember, there's not a person alive who isn't affected in some way by cancer.

And as it turned out, I got to meet Lance after all....

Another "First"

Back in July was my "Month of Firsts," but it didn't end there. Today I added another one. Previously a biweekly event, today I had my first massage since the diagnosis. Relaxing? Only after the fact. But it is deep tissue massage....ouch.

Yes, there are places where "the Big C" is funny

Like on the Daily Show

Fascinating!

Awhile back, I suggested the possibility of somehow attaching a photocatalyst (TiO2) to the cancer cells, and then illuminating it with UV light to kill the cells. I've worked on similar projects for cleaning boat hulls or purifying water. Why not kill cancer? Of course, usually when I come up with some great idea, I find out that it's already been done. In this case, as you can imagine, that didn't really bother me. Even so, it begs the question, how easily can the photocatalyst find the tumor? On top of that, how easily can it be illuminated? Through the skull? Not likely.

And then I see a story about a local neurosurgeon here at UCSF, and suddenly it feels like maybe it's all coming together.

I love science.

Decisions...decisions....

...oh! Pay me. Lawyer's salary, please. Ok, apparently I can remember how a commercial goes, but I haven't the slightest idea what it was selling. I assume it was some kind of game, but I can't remember any game that involved decisions and salaries and lawyers. But I digress.

In our last episode of "Tumor Man", he was told that he had the option to stop taking the monthly chemo treatment. Desperately we all needed to know! Would he pull away from the *medication* that some think is his greatest hope at beating back the evil cancer? Or would he continue swallowing the toxic monster, reducing himself to a mere pulp for one week out of every month, never knowing for sure if the "medication" is living up to it's expectations. Which way will he turn?

As with most decisions, "Tumor Man" opts for whatever keeps the most options open (in spite of "Tumor Dad's" advice long ago that keeping options "open" eventually closes many of them). How is it possible to keep your options open? Turns out one answer is to reduce your dosage. "Tumor Man" noticed that a few of his comrades were taking less Temodar than he was, but they weighed more. That's just not fair! So "Tumor Man" requested a reduction in his dosage to see if he could handle the cycle better. And lo and behold, it was somewhat of a success! There's still some fatigue, and his digestive system gets shaken up just like before, but his energy seemed much better than with the higher dose.

Will "Tumor Man" stay the course? Or will he decide that the lower dose probably has even less impact against the evil cancer empire? Stay tuned for the next episode!

Got the Will to Survive

Beautiful song, beautiful cause:
http://www.youtube.com/user/GottheWilltoSurvive