Infusion 54 and thought avoidance

I’ve spent the past few weeks mostly not thinking about the metastatic tumor in the upper right lobe of my lung, with tendrils creeping out like kudzu, sucking the life force from the adjoining cells and feeding the malignancy. I have tried to ignore the knowledge that this new carcinoma likely lacks the PD-1/PD-L1 connection that has allowed my monthly of infusions nivolumab to enable the T cells in my immune system to strip the camouflage from, then consume, the tumors in my lymphatic system. I do not dwell on the likelihood that each day thousands of new cancer cells are colonizing in my bronchial tubes. I disregard the data that suggests the average life span of a person who has metastatic solid tumors in their organs is less than a year. I try to not think about these unpleasant facts.

Instead, I try to live each day as joyfully as I can. I visit Jennifer once or twice a day in the hospital, where for the past month she has been receiving treatment for her cognitive issues, and am grateful that I can see her, hold her hand, and tell her that I love her. I read books with my grandchildren. I continue to churn through my book list (most recently, The Coldest Winter, by David Halberstam; The Battle of Arnhem, by David Beevor; Dereliction of Duty, by H.R. McMaster; Leonardo da Vinci, by Walter Isaacson; Lincoln at the Bardo, by George Saunders). I visit with family. I sort through the remaining residue of my life’s accumulations, curiously pleased when I can empty another box. I look forward to skiing this winter, slowly acquiring the necessary gear. A small voice sometimes whispers that I probably won’t be skiing as much as I would like, but I let that sour thought dissipate like a fart in the wind. Sometimes the preparations are more pleasing than the performance.

On Monday night I flew from Utah to DC, and slept in my almost empty house. Yesterday I went in for my labs, then went to lunch with Spencer. He’s working (and mostly living) at a residential treatment center for college-aged kids in rehab, and is getting his firefighter certifications. It’s good to see him carving out a place in the world. Kirsten received a job offer doing social work in the Denver area, and she and her boyfriend are talking about tying the knot. A few weeks ago they flow to Utah and we had a long conversation about the possibility of his joining the family. I guess my cleaning my Glock while we talked didn’t dissuade him. I wish them every happiness. I speak with Garrett each Sunday and hear about his life lessons while at Carnegie Mellon. I am grateful that my children allow me to share in their joys and sorrows.

Yesterday afternoon I met with two curators at Dumbarton Oaks, a DC museum that has a specialty in pre-Columbian artifacts. I brought with me a dozen pieces of ancient Peruvian pottery that had been given to me over two decades ago by my late stepmother. She told me that the artifacts had been discovered by her first husband in the 1950s while he was working as an engineer on a construction project in Peru. He told her that he barely had time to grab the pottery before the site was bulldozed. They have been sitting in my garage ever since. 

I first tried contacting the Peruvian embassy, but no one seemed interested. I tried the Smithsonian, but was told they had strict conditions and likely would not accept them. I found similar pieces that were being offered by dealers for anywhere from $300 over $1000 each. One dealer offered me $3000 for the lot based solely on my photos. I preferred that the items be professional curated, and eventually I was referred to the curators at Dumbarton Oaks. They carefully unwrapped the pieces, documenting each step. They could not promise to take them into their collection, but said that if they could not, they would refer me to other museums that might be interested. I’m not interested in the money; rather, I’d like to see them displayed. I’m just trying to do the right thing.

This morning I met with the handyman who has been working on my Great Falls house to review his never-ending list of projects. I also met with my realtor, so we could re-list the house. I’m more than ready to have it sold.

This afternoon I had my 54^th Opdivo infusion. As usual, it was routine. I spoke with the nurse about the new mets, and how I likely will be entering a new clinical trial in January. Those decisions will be driven by the results of my PET scan in 4 weeks. I try to not think about it, and instead think about snow.