We met with the oncologist at Baylor yesterday about enrolling in the clinical trial. First, I must say, that doctors just can't win. When I go to a doctor's office and it's crowded and I wait for an hour, I'm really frustrated. This office was empty, they brought me into an exam room, took my vitals, and the doctor came in immediately. And I found myself wondering, "Why isn't he busier? Maybe he's not a good doctor."
But I generally liked the guy. He took my medical history, went through the basics of the trial, and everything was looking good until we handed over the report from my last CT scan. There was a little excerpt that seemed to stop him in his tracks. Something like "There is a nodular area of soft tissue density in the prerectal space...measuring 3.3 x 2.1 cm. This is probably a focus of peritoneal disease...There is some increased density along the superior aspect of the left ovary that could be part of the ovary or could be a separate implant."
So...the trial is restricted to Stage 3 patients. To qualify for the trial, you have to be enrolled within 8 weeks of your surgery. This oncologist said there's no way to prove that I'm NOT stage 4 in that time frame. He said the MRI this week won't really give a definitive answer. The only way you can really tell if these densities and nodules are cancer is with a biopsy or surgery. He did contact the principal researcher on the trial to check and they confirmed that he can't enroll me with this most recent scan data. But it was nice that he called me personally to follow-up within 24 hours. Wish I got that kind of treatment everywhere.
So that's that. No clinical trial. At least not a clinical trial for Stage 3 colon cancer. If I'm stage 4 there's trials aplenty to consider.
Everyone wants an update on work. Work is fine...better than fine...good. It actually feels good to have a little more routine and put on some makeup and wear something other than sweatpants. And everyone is super-supportive and nobody is expecting me to push myself beyond my capabilities. So really, it's all good.
Speaking of all good, I would have gotten cancer years ago if I'd have known I'd get all sorts of loot. Actually, they tell me that I did get cancer years ago, so why the delay on the loot? Flowers, cards, gift cards, food...it just keeps coming. But you people seem to know me well enough not to send herbal tea and exercise books. Here's a sampling of things that have arrived.
Nothing says "fight cancer" like 10 lbs. of Jelly Belly sour mix...
Except perhaps 5+ lbs. of Twizzlers...
And if you're looking for entertainment, you'd probably find these gems on a list of the top 20 worst movies of the 1980s...
Of course, this one is practically a work of art. Must have swept the Academy Awards in 1985. "My tapes...my Julio Iglesias tapes...Ruined!!!" Classic, really.
Oh, and if you didn't get your fill from the 10 lbs of Jelly Bellys above, perhaps a skunk or vomit flavored jelly bean would tickle your fancy? Nothing fights chemo-nausea like rotten egg and moldy cheese jelly beans.