12 weeks of adventure

These past 12 weeks since my last scan have been more eventful than most: a quiet Covid Christmas, bidding good riddance to 2020, a despicable assault on democracy, the inauguration of a new era, and most importantly some decent snow to save the ski season. I ended up missing the first couple of weeks of good snow, however, because the day after the first good storm of the season my brother and I started driving from Utah to Florida in my F350 diesel dually pulling my 43 foot 5th wheel. It was an eventful trip: In Wyoming we were delayed due to I-80 being closed due to more than 40 semi wrecks; in Kansas we ran into freezing rain and nearly jackknifed twice; in Memphis we got trapped for two hours  navigating around low bridges; and in Birmingham we missed crossing paths with an F4 tornado  by less than 5 minutes. We rolled into central Florida on Tuesday morning, delivered the 5ver to my sister, visited my mom and stepdad; my brother flew home and Spencer flew out; he and I drove back to Utah via New Orleans (bignets and jazz), Dallas (BBQ and the Texas Book Depository), and Denver (visiting Kirsten and Jason). The skiing was fine for the rest of February.

At the end of February I traded the F350 for a Jeep Gladiator I'd ordered back in December. (Build details: 2021 JT Willys Diesel Sarge/Tan 26W 3–Piece Hard Top, LED Lights, Cargo/Trail Rail, Trailer Tow, Cold Weather, Active Safety, Adaptive Cruise Control/Forward Collision.) I'm liking it. Spencer is taking it to the Needles in Canyonlands this weekend to put it through its paces. I'm looking forward to driving naked (top and doors off) once the snow melts. My Harley Fat Boy is jealous.

 

Last month I was offered the chance to get the coronoavirus vaccine. My last post captured my musings on the vaccine. More recently, a comprehensive article from MD Anderson confirmed what I'd already concluded: the vaccine is safe and a very good thing. I got the first dose of the Pfizer vaccine on Feb. 18 and the second this morning. A recent NY Times article said that the vaccine could cause enlarged lymph nodes that could be mistaken for cancer. Since the effect could last up to six weeks after getting vaccinated, and since I'd already gotten the first dose, I decided I'd just tell the staff that I'd gotten the jab and let the professionals deal with it. Today is the one year anniversary of the WHO declaring a COVID-19 pandemic, and I'm hoping that mass vaccinations will be out pathway out of it. Darwinism can claim the vaccine deniers and wild-eyes whackjobs.

Meanwhile, on Tuesday I had my annual wellness exam, as required by Medicare. Except for that pesky cancer thing, everything was in expected parameters. I was amused to receive an automated follow-up note this morning telling me that, although my cholesterol was within the normal range, it was still a little high, and perhaps I should switch to a low-fat diet. Jeez. Three-quarters of diet is die. One of the few benefits of having metastatic cancer is that I can eat whatever damn thing I want. I'm not going to die of obesity or hypertension or some other fat boy disease (unless it's due to that Fat Boy). Eventually, my cancer is going to overwhelm my body and cause cascading organ failure. Until that happens, I'm going to eat as much red meat, bacon, donuts and cookies as I want. Embrace the wild-eyed whackjob within.

When I arrived at Huntsman Cancer Institute to get my labs, scans, and visit with Dr. Maughan, the nurse who did the draws mentioned that I was scheduled to get an infusion. Not to my knowledge, I said. I'd suspended my Opdivo infusions in June and was on surveillance. She shrugged and said that my schedule said I'd be getting an infusion. After my draws, I checked into CT. While waiting, one of the nurses came over and told me not to have my IV taken out after my CT scan because I was getting an infusion. Huh. Maybe Dr. Maughan has added an infusion t my schedule in the expectation that the enlarged node or possible tumor that showed up on my last scan in December had grown sufficiently to justify a resumption of therapy. I mentally shrugged. I knew I'd be resuming therapy eventually when my cancer returned. Maybe today is the day. 

After my scans were completed, I had a longer than usual wait to see the doctor. Fortunately, I'd brought my iPad and the Libby app. I've been working my way through John Scalzi's sci fi. I've finished the Interdependency trilogy, and am on book 3 of the Old Man's War series, and am simultaneously reading Paolini's To Sleep in a Sea of Stars. 

Eventually I was called back and met with Lindsey, the PA who with Dr. Maughan has been managing my care. She told me that my labs were fine and that the neck, torso and abdomen CT scans were clear. No word on the chest, which was where the maybe tumor was located. She or Ben would call me if there was anything amiss. I asked why I was scheduled for an infusion, and she was surprised as I was. After checking out the notes, she said that it was for hydration to help flush my CT contrast in case my creatine level was out of normal range. Since my kidneys were fine, no infusion would be needed. I told her that my dermatitus was slowly tapering, with slightly less rash on my face, scalp, groin or calves. I told her I'd just received round 2 of the vaccine, and asked her to let the radiologist know in case any of the scans seemed wonky. At my GP's request, I asked her if I was ok to get the shingles vaccine. She said that there was no issue due to my cancer or immunotherapy, but that I should wait at least four weeks after my coronavirus vaccine. She asked if BCAN was doing a walk in May, and I said it 2021 would be another virtual event. (I'll provide further details in a later post.) Unless something is showing in my chest CT, I said we'd see each other in 12 weeks.