Week 6 of radiation is complete. Radiation treatments are not really that difficult to do. You go into the chamber, lay down on the table for 20 minutes, and let the machine shower you with radioactivity. No problem. But, the doctor did say that week 4 and 5 would be difficult to deal with. There has been pain in my chest when I take a deep breath or when I eat anything solid and try to swallow. I can also feel the pain in my rib cage when I try to move around. It's a bit like having a sunburn on the inside of your body.

My feeding tube site from my original operation in March has never really healed. I showered a couple of weeks ago, and when I was finished I had blood streaming down my side. At that point, I was fed up. I called the doctors office and scheduled an appointment. I saw the doctor and he took one look at it and said;

"Hyper-tropic Granulation"

As Clint would say, "Say What?" The doc said there was a suture under the skin that never dissolved. Scar tissue grew around the suture and it would all need to come out. He said 10 to 15 minutes with a local anesthetic and it would be all over. That turned out to be wishful thinking.

We arrived at the hospital at 6:15 AM, got checked in and made it to my room. The nurse came in and asked if I had had anything to eat. I told her the doctor had planned on giving me a local and that it was OK for me to have breakfast. She said she would tell the doctor. It turns out he had changed his mind and wanted to put me out. Too bad they didn't tell us ahead of time. The doc said we would go ahead with the local.

They wheeled me into the operating room. The room at UCSF on Divisdero street was beautiful, state of the art. Everything was brand new. I think they would rather of had me not remember any part of the room. The nursers seemed to be somewhat alarmed that I was awake for this procedure. They knew what was going to happen, not me. They gave me an injection that numbed the site. The doctor started cutting, and pulling, and tugging, and cutting some more. He kept asking me "did you feel that?". I would say no, but it "does feel like you are re-arranging my insides". He would say, "that's normal". Well, 10 to 15 minutes turned into over an hour. They kept injecting me every 10 minutes or so. Finally, the doc said "there it is". So he took the suture out and finished taking the rest of the scar tissue out. They took about 4 to 5 sqaure inches of scar tissue out of a hole about an inch and a half wide. He finished up, closed, I went back to my room.

It will take a while to recover from my surgery. I wanted to go back to jogging in the morning, but that will have to wait. The pain in my side to too severe to do much right now. All I can try to do is keep eating and try to recover.

I will post again soon. Thanks for your support. MC

I went to UCSF this week for a few appointments. I got a new PET scan, it came back negative. I saw a nutritionist who was able to set me straight on a lot of foods to eat, and what not to eat. I have to watch the amount of processed sugar that I take in. And she also wanted me to eat 120 grams of protein a day. She wants me to be ready for chemotherapy coming up. I saw my radiation oncologist. He told me that at first, he did not want to perform the radiation on me. But after we met, he said I was "robust" enough to tolerate the 6 weeks of radiation. Lastly, I saw my oncologist for chemotherapy. The appointment was so long, my head was spinning by the end of the hour. Needless to say, they plan on throwing the kitchen sink at me.

The plan of treatment will run for 7 months. I will. be finished sometime next year. 4 weeks of chemo, and then a short break. 6 weeks of chemo and radiation, then a break. Then 2 more series of chemo using totally different drugs. 29 weeks in all. They tell me its for my best chance at survival.

So that's it. I will be on the path towards a cure for the next 7 months. I will post when I can.
God bless, and thank you for all your prayers. I feel your support.

Mark

We went to see our doctor in San Francisco yesterday. He checked me over and looked at my incisions. He thought they looked good and that I was on the road to healing up my wounds. He talked about my pathology report for my tumor and what the next phase will be. There was 17 lymph nodes in the area around the tumor, and they found microscopic tumors in three of them. It looks like I will be having about 3 series of chemo about 3 weeks apart. He also thought I will not be having any radiation at all. Seems that I got off easy.

Eating and drinking are still a work in process. We are still trying to find the right combination of foods and liquids that I can tolerate. No hot liquids at all. Anything close to hot gives me an instant stomach ache. I eat small portions more often now. No hard fruit or vegetables, everything has to be easy to digest.

The pain continues, just not to the degree it was in the hospital. The bandages are gone, all the tubes are now gone, and just a couple of holes remain. I should be in the home stretch. We see our second surgeon next week on Wednesday. I will post again soon.

Well, sometimes plans change. We had originally planned to get the surgery 3 weeks out. The surgeons office called and asked me if I was ready to get the surgery the day after I saw them. I told them the sooner the better. So I went in on the 23rd of March.

We checked into the hospital last Tuesday morning about 8:30am. They took me up to pre-op to get me into my robe and to start my IV. I said my goodbyes to Julie, Krystin and Aryn then they wheeled me back to the OR. I recited the Lord's prayer to myself on the way back, then the nurse asked me to slide up on the operating table. Ten seconds after that, out went the lights. No dreaming, no sub-conscious cues, just nothing.

My surgery lasted 8 hours. There were 10 surgeons working on me, each with a different job to perform. I don't remember anything from the OR, the surgeon said I was stable through the entire procedure.

I woke up in ICU. I remember a long tunnel with people standing at the end in the light. The people were slowly getting closer and closer. The ICU nurse said, "he's coming around", and then I remember waking up with 3 nurses around my bed, each of them handing packages and needles to each other. I had tubes and machines all around the bed. The nurses at UCSF were all great. Very professional with great personalities. The one common thread they all had was they wanted to help people. They helped me a lot.

I moved to a regular room on Thursday. Julie was able to stay in my room on a chair that folded out into a bed. The last place you want to go to get any sleep is the hospital. We were constantly awaken by beeps by different machines as well as visits by nurses to get vital signs. We stayed through the weekend and every day was marked by another tube coming out. My pick line, my chest tube. The week slowly went by. Finally, my surgeon came by and told us we would be heading home on Friday. Ten days in the hospital. It seemed like a hundred.

We made it home from the hospital last night (4/2/10) after a five hour drive from San Francisco in the rain. It normally takes about an hour and a half, but it was a Friday and everyone is heading out of town.

The incisions of the operation are painful. I have a 9 inch incision in by back, chest tube opening, J tube in my side, and about 6 one inch incisions in my chest. The pain is with me, we are managing it with different medications. There will be some good and bad days ahead, and we will meet them head on. I will have chemotherapy and radiation as soon as I recover form the surgery, so I do have a long road ahead. It will be tough, but I am sure with the grace of God and the prayers of our family and friends we will get through it. I appreciate all of your kind words and support.

We drove to San Francisco today to see a surgeon at University of California San Francisco in the GI section of the hospital. He talked rather fast, going over my medical history and my diagnosis. We talked about my family and whether my parents had smoked or if I had been around anyone where I work that smoked. He spoke about the fact that more middle aged white men are being diagnosed with esophageal cancer every day and they really don't know why. He said he would like to have a sample of my tumor when they take it out so they can study it to find a cure. I told him he could have the whole thing, just get it out of me.

The surgery will be a tough one. One of the most complcated surgerys to do. There will be two surgeons working on me. They will take turns completing the removal of the tumor and the re-routing of my stomach and esophagus. He also told me that I will have to meet with the anesthesiologist to get a baseline health condition so he can determine if there will be any problems keeping me under for eight hours. I haven't had a problem yet. They just start the flow in the IV and you go to sleep. Nothing to it. You wake up to hear the doctor saying over and over, "you probably won't remember this, so I will tell you again....".

So that's it, I will be going in for surgery in three weeks. They told me to eat, drink and be merry in the mean time. Exercise is OK, so I will be in the gym and on the bike. I will try to be in the best shape possible before going in for surgery. I have a PET scan next week, so I will post again after Wednesday.

Don't take a second for granted. Tell everyone that you love that you love them.

You may not get another chance.

The surgeon we saw today seemed like a nice fellow. He had been in Afghanistan working on our wounded soldiers coming in from the battlefield. He didn't mince words. He said, "I have to be honest with you, the survival rate for your type of cancer is very low". My wife Julie started to tear up 30 seconds after we sat down. He said, "the good news is that you caught the tumor in a very early stage". I thought, OK, now you are going to tell us the "bad" news? Yes, he said "the mortality rate is very high".

We talked about the surgery. They section out the esophagus and the stomach and then sew them back together. Sometimes they will pull the stomach all the way up to your throat. I didn't sound very comfortable way up there.

Well, there it is. This will be a fight for my life. Regardless of what happens, I want to thank everyone for the words of encouragement. You have helped me a great deal.

I will be off to San Francisco to meet a surgeon and discuss my next steps.

Give your kids a squeeze tonight and tell them you love them. I know I will.

Strange. I sat in the waiting room by myself filling out yet another seemingly meaningless form about my health history. I got to the list of illnesses with their check boxes and started going down the list. I got to the box that said "cancer", and I almost skipped over it. I had to remind myself that I had indeed been diagnosed with this all to familiar disease.

My mother and father were not exactly health nuts. As a matter of fact, everything they did was unhealthy. They smoked like chimneys, they had a poor diet, my mom had a drink or two (before breakfast) and they only exercise they ever had was exercising their vocal cords at one another. Other than that, everything was great.

I have had enough second-hand smoke in my childhood to kill Jack LaLanne a million times over. The funny thing is my mom and dad didn't ever have cancer that we know of. My dad passed away from and infection and my mom's liver gave out after a long two year struggle. Don't get me wrong, I loved my mom and dad dearly, but they passed on long before their time. I only wish they could have seen their grandchildren grow up. They would have been so proud.

I miss them a lot.

I had another Endoscopy today. They added Ultrasound to the test. They got a real clear picture of the tumor so I know what I am dealing with. The tumor has not spread beyond the walls of the esophagus and is not in contact with any other tissue.

They changed the sedative on me today. Larger IV and more drugs kept me groggy for about 4 hours once I got home. Nothing that a couple cups of Joe can't cure.

The doctors feel that I caught it in the first stage. They think I will be OK once we operate and do some chemo.

I meet with my surgeon on Monday. Everyone have a great weekend and give your kids extra tight.

So, my doctor called this morning and said, "You have cancer".

This all started for me about six weeks ago when I sat down to dinner in Palm Springs. I ordered a chicken something, and I took a bite. It didn't go down too well. There was even a little pain when I swallowed. I decided to go to "Urgent Care" at the local hospital. You all know, there isn't anything "urgent" about it. You check in, sit for three hours, and the doctor told me, "I think you just have a sore throat, how about a prescription for cough syrup?" I didn't share his opinion.

A few days later, I went to my own doctor close to home. In his best Russian accent he said, "trouble swallowing, YES? We do upper GI, YES?" I said, "yes, we do upper GI, when? He said, "how about we get you in tomorrow".

I went in for the upper GI. The tech gave me a small Dixie cup that must have weighed a pound. He said, "Just drink this when the doc tells you to". I went through the motions and the test results came back. My doctor called me back in and said he wanted to do an Endoscopy. They put you to sleep and put a camera down your throat. I woke up and the doctor said "we found something. I need you to go in for a CT scan, tomorrow".

I went in for the CAT scan. The injection IV made me feel warm all over. A faint smell of copper, maybe even a salty smell. The scan took a few minutes. The doctor called the next morning with the results. "The bad news is that you have a cancer in your esophagus. The good news is that's all we were able to find. Everything else is clean."

So, that is my current challenge, I have cancer. I'll be going in for surgery, and for the chemotherapy very soon. Some of my friends and family can't believe it. They say, "you are the healthiest person I know. You work out, ride your bike, run. How can you get cancer?" All I can say is that no one is immune to cancer. There is no rhyme or reason as to why we get cancer. If you get the call, you can't back down. You can't curl up into the fetal position and give up. You have to take the fight to the enemy. You have to advance. You have to improvise, overcome, adapt.

You have to live.