When we last left our heroic patient, he was sent home from the hospital. And despite the fact that I seemed out of my mind, overall I was okay from the surgery. Then I started radiation. For twenty-eight days, five days a week I would go for out-patient radiation treatment.
At first, it seemed fine. They put a small tattoo on my chest to help consistently line up the giant laser-gun looking thing with my body. They also made a foam mold of my head to get me into the perfect position for the machine. The first treatment seemed harmless enough, but only a few days in, I started to feel pain in my stomach. Each day, it became harder and harder to get food or liquid down. Once again, I was admitted to the hospital. I asked if we could stop the radiation as I could feel it was shutting down my stomach. The doctors stressed the importance of the radiation. You can only do it once, and you can't stop until you're done. I tried to argue that my stomach was in peril, but cancer is more lethal, and I doubt I made a very good argument. Before the twenty-eight days were up, I could no longer take in food through my mouth.
My weight started to drop fast. Soon, I had lost (overall) forty pounds. I had to be put back on the TPN -- the liquid feeds that go directly into my blood stream. I was later given another feeding tube that would allow food to be sent directly into my small intestine. I don't want to get into it, but this tube not only didn't work, but caused severe discomfort. Eventually, we got it to work, but not after several months of painful procedures.
As it stands, I haven't eaten food for almost two years now. I've had some moments where I could drink liquids, but mostly I am living off my two pumps.
Every night, for twelve hours I hook myself up to these machines and they pump food into me. I hate it. They're in neat little backpacks, but still I feel chained down. And it's not easy doing even the simplest task when your carrying two bags everywhere that are attached to you. Also, the symptoms from my stomach are not pleasant. I took a gastric emptying test which rated my stomach working at 7%. So, not only do I have cancer, I have gastroparesis -- which means my stomach doesn't work. The outward symptoms are worse than those of cancer (at least so far), and combine that with the chemotherapy, it's torture. For the last two years, I have experienced pain in my gut constantly, everyday, 24/7. I have learned to live with it. And my doctors have tried to fix the problem, however, I am told the chemotherapy is preventing any progress.
Now, I endure the pain, try to manage it, and do my chemotherapy. A lot of people with cancer don't have the added disease. Chemo is unpleasant for them, but when the symptoms subside, it's over until the next time. My suffering does not end.
I have a lot more experiences from the hospital, but to be honest, they aren't that interesting -- and I can't even keep these moments straight in my head. So, I'm not sure where I go now with this blog. My battle against cancer and my other complications will continue. I will let you know how it's going from time to time. Or if I come across something amusing, I may share. Oh, and I promised Jonathan's Cancer that he could share another photo or two, so look out for that.
Thanks for reading, and for supporting me.
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