radiation – dad perfect

January 19, 2022

Treatment Tuesday

One of the hardest things I do is to prioritize myself in my daily life. It’s how I got myself into this mess in the first place.

Tuesdays have become a de-facto me-day. It’s my longest treatment day, and the one that has me see the biggest variety of caregivers. It starts with mental health counseling, and goes on to radiation, chemotherapy, and some others get thrown in during the long chemo infusion process.

It’s like a weird 6+ hour day at the spa, all about me. Only with less pampering.

My caregivers all empathize with my long day at the hospital, but inside I silently grin. This is the most time I’ve spent on me.

I realize I may sound like a crazy person trying to draw a silver lining on this dark cloud, but it’s how I choose to see it. The process and the treatments are what they are, and aren’t what they aren’t. I get to choose how to experience it, and I choose joy.

January 17, 2022

Covid + Chemo + Cancer

“Have you had a cough? Feeling fatigued? Nausea?”

Yes, yes, and yes. I had chalked all of it up to chemo & radiation side effects, especially after speaking with my radiation oncology nurse last week, who brushed off my nascent cough.

Now, speaking with the medical oncologist, this was more likely to have been Covid. The side effects were not likely to have been as dramatic as these symptoms, this early on in treatment. However a mild case of Covid, combined with a newly-weakened immune system, would easily explain that. Occam’s razor, and all.

I do not take anything back however. I am still grateful for my breath, my cuddles, my wife, etc. This second Covid infection of mine kicked my ass all weekend. I had small, random bouts of feeling “okay” mixed with feeling like absolute shit. Eating, drinking, managing medications, it was all a challenge and now that I’m starting to feel better I know I can handle it. Well, Erin can handle it. I’m just along for the ride.

January 7, 2022

Alone. With Friends.

I’ve never felt more alone.

The path I’m on is mine alone. I know I have many, many people who love and support me, but even if they could, they can’t do this with me. I’m reminded of this every morning when my amazing nurses place my rigid plastic mask over my face and lock it into place. My eyes are held shut as I’m held into millimeter alignment for the radiation beam. The many daily jaw and tongue muscle exercises. The list of solitary activities goes on.

January 5, 2022January 5, 2022

Radiation Begins

I’m strapped onto a motorized table. My hands grip adjustable holds that are meant to help align my upper body to millimeter accuracy so that the powerful, invisible radiation beam hits its intended target: my tumor. Red lasers find my alignment tattoos. My entire head is encased in a custom mask that was molded to my face during my simulation just two weeks ago. The mask is securely attached to this motorized tray, which will immobilize my head and neck.

January 4, 2022January 5, 2022

Holiday Tripping

“I want to go to New York for Christmas,” my youngest announced.

Erin and I have been talking about gifting our boys more experiential things for the holidays, as opposed to more stuff. This year, we finally did it. We have been planning a trip to New York City for Christmas for months. It’s been a lot of fun for us to put this together, all while dropping little clues and hints here and there for months now. Commenting on scenes in famous New York locales, like the Oculus in one of the John Wick movies.

December 17, 2021January 5, 2022

Dental Oncology

“Do you know why you’re here today?” the doctor asked.

“No, not really,” I replied. I have a dentist. A hygienist. And an oral surgeon. Before the scheduler called to make this appointment, I had never heard of a dental oncologist. Can you even get cancer in your teeth?

December 15, 2021January 5, 2022

Medical Oncology

The past few days have entailed my initial consultations with my Medical Oncologist and Radiation Oncologist. They are the dynamic duo that will be attacking my cancer. The doctors said that cancer surgery on the neck area is “morbid” and “very invasive,” and that we are hoping to avoid that option. I shudder to think of what that entails. I’m sure there are YouTube videos on it, but I’m not typing that into the search bar.

I’m coming to learn lots of new jargon through this whole process — if there’s anything I’d like to contribute to modern medicine, is to help improve the communication to the general public. Medicine needs a science translator, its own Neil DeGrasse Tyson. I’ll put my name in that hat after these treatments are over.

November 22, 2021January 5, 2022

The Great Journey begins

It’s been five days since I was woken from general anesthesia with the news that my sore throat of 6+ months is not just a sore throat.

The words have sunk in. Hypopharyngeal keratinizing squamous cell carcinoma, well-differentiated. A ~3cm mass of mutated cells that have convinced my immune system to ignore them — nothing to see here folks!

As it turns out, at some point the medical oncologist was supposed to have reached out to us in these last five, excruciating days. That would have been nice. The system has failed.