Mayo

Dad and I went to the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale, Arizona today.  Unfortunately, the records that were faxed over yesterday didn't get into his file, so we had to recount what we could remember of the progression of Dad's illness.  This doctor was impressed with how well Dad is doing and said as long as he is doing so well, she wouldn't recommend he do anything medically.  However, if he starts to have symptoms, pain, or scans show the cancer growing, then there is the possibility of future chemo treatments.  She needs to see his records, go over his scans and possibly compare them to a new scan, and wants to see the pathology slides so she can confirm the type of cancer cell he is fighting.  This information may also give her an idea of a different kind of chemo to try.  She is the first doctor who said there are still treatment options.  Which makes me very happy.  And somewhat suspicious.  She did say any treatment option needs to be balanced against potential side effects and Dad's quality of life.   

Good doctors have told Dad there's not much more they can do other than keep him comfortable--his own doctor, two doctors at Fred Hutcheson Cancer Center in Seattle, and a highly recommended cancer specialist who is also a cancer researcher in California.  Can all these medical professionals have made a mistake?  Is this Mayo doctor just blowing smoke up our collective rear ends?  Or is there something she knows that the other doctors do not know?  The Mayo doctor did concur with all the other doctors in defining the eventual outcome: this disease is terminal, nothing she can do will "cure" him.  Now why doesn't that make me feel all warm and fuzzy?

This medical maze we live in and are experiencing even now is a real challenge.  We want hope.  Hope makes Dad happy.  Me too.  All of us really.  But are we giving up anything to have this hope?  If it just costs money, then that's ok.  But what if he is spending precious time away from home...away from his family and friends who love him, away from his orchard...the dirt and trees and sun that runs through his body as surely as this cancer does?  Is that a good thing?

We do not know what she will recommend after she has a chance to review all the records.  She may completely concur with the other doctors.  And if she doesn't, if she offers alternatives, I guess Dad will consider his options and make a decision.  The decision isn't mine, that's for sure.  Nor can anyone else make this decision.  He has to.

She said this is not typical esophageal cancer, it is slow moving, so the pathology may be different, meaning a different chemo may be effective in holding at bay for a longer period of time.  She also said any chemo regime she recommends, his own doctor can administer it so he can be home.

No, I don't completely trust this doctor.  But at this moment, I am enjoying the glimmer of hope she has presented.  The rest, we'll deal with later. 

Darn

Dad didn't make it into the clinical trial because of his age and a few "other factors." Darn it. He starts chemo this morning and is exploring other treatments at other facilities. People have been telling us of people with esophageal cancer who went to this facility or took these nutritional products or did some alternative therapy and are still going strong. We're trying to sort through the information and make an informed decision. The doc called and said that after three treatments, Carmen's lesions are responding to the chemo and getting smaller already. We're all very happy about that.

I was called as Enrichment leader at church...once a month I get to plan a little party with classes for the ladies in my congregation, I put together Enrichment groups of women with similar interests or a desire to learn the same thing (the PhotoShop class is very popular), and throw several big blow out parties a year. It's a great gig. Unfortunately, prior to this, I really didn't go to Enrichment meetings. So they put me in charge. Isn't that how it goes? Anyway, we've had some very successful meetings and sometimes the next one flows out of the last one. Next month, after brief presentations on these subjects last night, we're going to learn how to crochet (well some of us are...not sure I am, crochet hook, yarn that tangles, she said it wasn't that hard, just a modified running stitch but you pull it through the bottom instead of the top or something like that...does that sound simple? no) neck scarves for the special Olympics to be held in Idaho? next year. Plus, some of us will put together care packages for an Adopt a Marine (in Iraq) program. There are many good programs designed to send our troops some love from home, like anysoldier.com. But this sweet lady said she chose this program because her first love was a Marine. Last night we put together craft and activity boxes for children who are living in "transitional" housing..that place between homelessness and a real home in our community. So I am catching the vision of Enrichment, understanding more that all things are spiritual and if an activity allows us to friendship, fellowship, learn, and serve then all the better. In class last night, I learned I'm going to have to rip up my garden this fall and start all over in the spring. Everything. Hmmmm. Except my roses. I'll cut them in half.

I must get ready to go to work now. More practice. I start with real classrooms on Monday. It's not that I'm nervous...well, yes I am but I'm coping. The lady I work for is great. I'm excited to get going.