Happy Half Way Day!

Today marks the half-way point in Reese's nine weeks of chemotherapy, and it's a good day. For one thing, he's feeling much better. His appetite continues to improve, he's getting some longer stretches of sleep, the headaches and nausea have lessened, and the Lakers pulled out a win! He's still pretty much glued to the couch with the tiredness, but that's okay.

Another reason for this good day is that we can mentally cross off the first half of his treatment. Done! That's not to say that he'll feel magically better after the ninth week, but we should certainly start to see upward progress from that point on. In my mind, it's really better than half-way because he's already made it through the first week of two cycles, which are the worst parts. Only one more to go!

In celebration of the day, I wanted to take a minute to mention some thank-you's. Truly, one of the main reasons we've adapted so well up to this point is because of all of you. In the past few months, you have brought us meals, driven us to doctor's appointments, sent us groceries, folded our laundry, cared for our kids, loaned us books and DVDs, read our blog, handled things at the office, sent us cards and e-mails, washed our car, walked our dog, and many more things I don't have room to list. You have given us things to laugh about. You have prayed for us, encouraged us, and loved us. I feel like the guy on the Verizon phone commercials where he has trouble with his phone and all of a sudden, three hundred people show up in hardhats and business suits, with tool boxes, ladders, and laptops. You have been a huge source of help and support. We are overwhelmed.

Happy Half Way Day!

Out of the fog

I think it's safe to say that Reese is starting to pull out of the "week one" fog that descends over our house every cycle. I actually heard him whistling along to Max & Ruby this morning. That's a good sign. He's been happily watching basketball non-stop today (what is up with all the basketball?) aside from a few cat naps. That's a good sign too, even though it means that all three kids plus Reese have been fighting for control of the remote tonight. I'm never going to get caught up with Dancing With the Stars.

I went along with him for his Bleomycin infusion today. He was also getting checked out by Dr. Minow, and I like to get updates straight from the expert every now and then. He said, basically, that Reese looks great for where he is in the process. He was a little concerned about his weight loss, concluding that it must be water weight, since his appetite has been so much better. So, an extra IV bag of fluids and a B-12 injection were added to today's regimen, as well as some more IV Zofran just for kicks. Dr. Minow also suggested bumping the Neulasta shot to Monday next time around, hoping that will reduce the bone pain.

All that extra stuff must have improved his appetite and mood because he requested some Carl's Jr. Six Dollar Slammers on the way home. Have you tried them? They are really good, and you know I'm not that crazy about Carl's food. Reese says they're only in limited markets so far, but they're little tiny burgers on King's Hawaiian Rolls. Okay, enough of the commercial...just try them.

Q & A

This past weekend, our blog cracked the 1,000 hit marker. Seriously? One thousand hits? You guys are amazing! I can't tell you how much it means to Reese and me that you read the blog, think about us, share in this with us, and pray for our family. Some of you we know. Some of you we've never even met, but we feel a closeness with all of you whether you are personal friends or just people looking for information on testicular cancer and its treatment.

Not only are you reading the blog, but you are dialoging with us via the comments function, in person, and through e-mails. I love that! It helps me know you're out there...*knock knock...hello?* If I could pass on just one small percentage of everything we've learned so far (be it medical, practical, or spiritual) that would make me so happy. In communicating with many of you, a few common questions keep popping up, so I thought I'd take some space to answer them here.

1. What kind of cancer does Reese have now? Is it lymph cancer or testicular cancer?

It's still testicular cancer, it has just metastasized to two of his lymph nodes. Testicular cancer is a germ cell cancer and so it is treated in a very specific way. While "metastasized" sounds pretty scary, remember that on Reese's surveillance plan, the doctors were watching and waiting very carefully for any small sign of cancer to show up. When it did, even though it was almost microscopic, they took quick and decisive action, so his prognosis is still very good.

2. Isn't Reese too old for testicular cancer?

Yeah, he just loves that one! Well, apparently he's not too old, but you're right in that he's on the older edge of the curve. Testicular cancer is the most common cancer in men, age 20 to 34, so they're definitely the highest risk group. However, 90% of testicular cancer cases occur in men 20 to 54. Also, testicular cancer is unfortunately on the rise, and the age range is expanding. Do you know what that means? If you are a man and you are reading this blog, you need to think about doing routine self exams for testicular cancer. Yup. It can occur in a 17 year old as well as a 70 year old.

Testicular cancer was the furthest thing from Reese's mind. He just got lucky in that his tumor happened to be quite painful and drove him quickly to the urologist. The signs are often more subtle. If you want to know more about how to do a self exam, check out this link or this one. Okay, nuff said.

3. Testicular cancer, isn't that what Lance Armstrong had?

Yes, that is what Lance Armstrong had, although his case was much more advanced than Reese's by the time it was diagnosed in 1996. And hey, look at him now! Other famous testicular cancer survivors include: Tom Green, Scott Hamilton, Dan Abrams, Richard Belzer, and many other well-known professional athletes, including U.S. swimmer Eric Shanteau, who competed in the Beijing Olympics last summer.

4. My aunt/grandpa/gardener/landlady had cancer and he/she just took a pill for chemotherapy or had a pump that she wore around and wasn't sick or didn't lose his hair at all. What's up with Reese?

Reese's cancer has been quite an education for us. Dr. Google and I have become great friends, plus we do truly have a wonderful real-life oncologist, Dr. Minow, who is very patient and always open to questions. What I never realized about cancer, until our experience, is that there are so many different kinds and each particular one has its own specific treatment. If you have lung cancer, there are certain procedures and drugs that will treat it. If you have skin cancer, there are different procedures and drugs that will treat that. It's the same with testicular cancer. What Reese is receiving (BEP chemotherapy) is the absolute gold standard of care for the kind of cancer and staging that he has. There's really not any other way it's dealt with, so we can be confident that he's getting exactly what he needs.

While modern science has made tremendous advances and people can sometimes take a pill instead of being hooked up to an IV, or not have to be sick and lose their hair, those sorts of drugs don't work for testicular cancer. The great news is that treatment for testicular cancer has improved tremendously in the last 30-some years. Due to the pioneering work of Dr. Lawrence Einhorn and his exploration of platinum-based chemotherapy, the survival rate for testicular cancer patients has risen from 10% to 95%. Wow! Makes you want to donate to cancer research, doesn't it?

Do you know what else is cool? Our doctor, Dr. Minow, did training with Dr. Einhorn way back when and also consults with him on an as needed basis. Reese is in very good hands.

5. How can we help you?

Trust us...you are all doing exactly what you need to. For those of you that have offered specific help, you are definitely on our mental "call list" and we will continue to call you when we need you, without hesitation. For those of you who are far away, we know you love us and are with us in spirit. Just please continue to keep up with our news, pray for us, and please don't worry. We love you all and appreciate your concern, kind words, and prayers!

My manna pile

Today is Sunday, and while Reese rested at home, the kids and I were able to soak up a lot of love and hugs from everyone at church. I can't count how many times I answered the question, "How's Reese doing today?" with, "Well, if it's not one thing, it's another." The Emend really does seem to have helped significantly with his nausea, vomiting, and appetite. Unexpectedly though, he now has quite a bit of bone pain from yesterday's Neulasta shot. No amount of pain relievers, heating pads, and hot baths seem to be giving him complete relief. His ribs, arms, back, and joints ache like he's about 100 years old, and it's been nearly impossible to get comfortable for very long. He didn't have any problems with the Neulasta shot the last round, so I wasn't anticipating that being a big problem this time. If it's not one thing, it's another.

Reese's cancer experience has been one big exercise in giving up control. I do not like giving up control. Here I thought that if I had enough meals scheduled, enough childcare back-up planned, enough bottles of medication on the bathroom counter, and enough healthy and palatable food in the fridge, that we could handle this weekend and it wouldn't be so scary and frustrating. I do not like giving up control, but the truth is that I am not in control. God is.

When the Israelites were journeying through the desert to the Promised Land, there was a lot of grumbling. There was a lot of, "God, it's too dirty, hot, cold, dangerous, uncomfortable, unfamiliar, scary...whatever." I get the Israelites. I tend to grumble a lot too. When they were hungry, God gave them manna -- little flakes of sweet bread that rained down from the sky to feed them. If they tried to pick up more than enough for the day, it would turn rotten in time. Whatever was left on the ground, melted away in the hot afternoon sun. There was just enough for everyone, every day.

It would feel good to hoard up a big manna pile in my spiritual pantry, rather than going out to gather it every day. If I had a big manna pile saved in the corner, then I would know exactly how God was going to work things out ahead of time and have tangible proof that everything was going to be okay. But God doesn't operate that way, or at least He tends not to with stubborn me. He is less about me being self-sufficient and more about Him being all sufficient.

Why does God keep me guessing? Is it to punish me or make me feel insignificant? Hosea 13:5-6 sums it up best: "I cared for you in the desert, in the land of burning heat. When I fed them, they were satisfied; when they were satisfied, they became proud; then they forgot me." When I start to think I've got it all figured out, I get proud and I forget him. He wants relationship with me most of all. He wants me to depend on him every single day for what I need. He has never failed me in that, even though I still fight and often forget his goodness.

So, I will try, even though I hate it, to see cancer as God's way of keeping me right by his side. I will choose to see Him teaching me to be humble. I will choose to see him showing me his faithfulness, every day, in the middle of the desert.

Bring in the reinforcements

Yesterday, Reese got a boost in the form of a new nausea medication. It's called Emend and is a 3 pill pack that he can start in anticipation of the really bad nausea, take for three days, and still benefit from for another 2 days after. If all goes as planned, that should give him additional relief through Monday, which is when the worst of the side effects started to lift in round 1.

I have to say I was a bit shocked when the Target pharmacy tech rang up my bill for $133 (and that's our copay after insurance!). I also have to say that if it works like it's supposed to, I'd be willing to pay at least four or five times that amount. If the nausea lets up, he might actually have time to be bothered by the other side effects: ringing in his ears, headaches, insomnia, mental fog, and swelling. He's got all of those too, but they pale in comparison to the frustration of the constant nausea. He's been a great patient this week -- no complaints or grumbling going in today. Yay for the final EP treatment of round 2!

The Emend does seem to be having some effect already, that I can see. Reese is really wiped out after today's infusion, but he's able to eat every few hours and keep it down so far. He even had a tiny bowl of Ben & Jerry's last night while we watched The Office. Any small improvement is improvement, and I'm thankful for it.

Speaking of the Target pharmacy, I was completely alone (no kids) at Target for what seems like the first time in months. Dave and Steph had taken all of the kids out for an afternoon of fun and I had 45 minutes to wait for Reese's prescription to be filled. Forty-five minutes all to myself to use the regular changing room, not the handicapped one where you have to shove your kids and shopping cart in while they whine and drop popcorn all over the floor, yet I could not find a single thing to try on. What is wrong with me? *Gasp* What is wrong with Target?

Childlike faith

Ellery has a routine conversation that she begins most every day after we drop Daddy off at Dr. Minow's office. By the time we're pulling out of the parking lot, I usually hear her gravelly morning voice from the seat behind mine:

E: Mommy, where's Daddy going?

C: He's going to the doctor's.

E: Did he get sick?

C: Yes, he got sick. He got cancer.

E: Oh, they will listen to his heart and give him a shot and he will be all better!

C: All better, honey. Daddy will be all better.

Oh to live in a world where three-year old reality was true -- a world where shots always worked and always made you better! She doesn't think in terms of five-year survival rates, side effects, complications, and relapses. She just thinks about Daddy being the coolest, strongest man in her life and how much she loves him.


There is something in our every day conversation that comforts me. I sometimes get caught up in doubt, but am encouraged by Mark 9:24 where the father of a sick boy says to Jesus, "I believe, but help me not to doubt!" Jesus, I believe, but help me not to Google too much or lie in bed at night and think about worst case scenarios. I believe, but I kinda don't believe sometimes (or at least act like I don't believe), and God is okay with that. Childlike faith isn't perfect faith, but a faith where belief always wins out in the end. It's an assurance that God is going to be enough for me and I can trust his word, no matter what happens.

Reese is doing about as expected for day 3 of the second cycle -- pretty yucky. He's back into his all Chicken Noodle Soup all the time phase. I bought some protein powder on Amazon.com to make smoothies for him. I ordered the 5 pound size, thinking that it couldn't be all that big. It is BIG. It is taller and wider than the blender itself. I guess I got a little carried away, but it's a testament to how badly I wish I could make him feel better. My wishes are not wimpy 12 ounce zip-top bag wishes, they are 5 pound plastic canister wishes, baby! Big wishes. Unfortunately, there's only so much that my efforts (including protein powder) can do to take away the pain and sickness, and that's frustrating for me.

That same faith-filled, rambunctious three year-old decided that there wasn't enough trauma (and drama) in our household last night. She tripped and fell on the concrete patio, chipping several of her teeth. The dentist patched her up as well as she could and told us that time will tell if they survive or if the Tooth Fairy pays Ellery a very early visit.

It's been a long 24 hours and I think I'm looking forward to it being tomorrow.

Done, done, on to the next one

This past weekend marked the end of round one and beginning of round two -- Reese is 1/3 of the way there! He felt really good on Sunday, which made it doubly hard to start all over again, but every day down is one he won't have to face again. Reese's blood counts were stable yesterday, so he got the go-ahead to begin his treatment. Thank you for all your prayers on that front!

As we'd anticipated, the side effects seem to have kicked in sooner with this round. We had a great tri-tip dinner with the Martins last night and it was downhill from there. We're hoping that some fine tuning of Reese's anti-nausea medication can help. I also bought him a bunch of different ginger lozenges and chews toward the middle of last round, which are reported to help with nausea. If they don't work for him, maybe I'll hold a give-away on the blog for about 7 pounds of ginger candy!

I never got back to sleep after helping Reese out in the middle of the night, so I had a few quiet moments to myself in the early morning. I just opened my e-mail to news that our good friend Stephanie is headed down south to be with her father -- diagnosed just last week with Myeloma (a blood cancer) and now hospitalized with pneumonia. More dear friends of ours lost a father last month to Mesothelioma (a cancer of the protective organ lining caused by asbestos exposure). Reese's parents also have a very good friend who is undergoing chemotherapy for Acute Myeloid Leukemia (a cancer of the blood and bone marrow). Please join us in praying for these men and the families that love them. Collin and I were in the car the other day and he said, "Mom, I have a lot of scary things going on in my life right now." I know what he means. Cancer sucks.

My household is starting to wake up for the day, so it's time to go get lost in the busyness of cereal pouring, backpack stuffing, and locating matching socks. Thank you so much for loving and supporting us. We feel it deeply.

Affirmation

He likes my blog. I have to say I'm surprised, but Reese likes my blog! It's a surprise because Reese usually doesn't get internet stuff. He doesn't really understand the fascination with facebook, twitter, blogs, flickr, forums, picnik, online browsing, and the like. Give him 15 minutes to check his stock quotes and fantasy football stats and he's done. The other day, he was so bored, he asked me, "So, what exactly do you do all the time online?" I gave him about 10 suggestions and he didn't really like any of them, so he shut his laptop off and read a book. But he likes my blog.

He thinks my blog is funny. He thinks my blog is well written. He has even, on occasion, been known to read parts of my blog out loud to nurses and random people.

If Reese ever started a blog, which I know he wouldn't, I would like it too. I would bookmark it, check it every day, add it to my Google Reader, and even leave him comments about how awesome he is. He is the funniest, most true person I know and he has a great vocabulary to boot. Alas, I'll have to blog for both of us.

In other news, the hair all came out today. It was starting to come out in little tufts and covering his pillow every morning, so it was time to deal with it once and for all. He scrubbed most of it out in the shower, then took the Timblins' clippers to it, and finally shaved the rest. He has a really nicely shaped head, I have to say - no big bumps, ridges, or freckles. Bye bye hair, see you in July.

Cruel to be kind

We are in the midst of enjoying the calm before the storm. Life seems about 75% normal in this second half of week three: Reese has some energy, a pretty good appetite, and hair that is holding on (though barely). We've been enjoying football games, our home fellowship group, walking the dog, and even a tour to a new private school we're considering for next year. I offer up a silent prayer of thanks every time I hear him growling to Sadie as he plays a game of razzle or laughing deeply at Ellery's antics. Normal sounds. Sounds I'm used to.

In the back of our minds though, the minutes are ticking down to Monday morning when he'll be back in the chemotherapy chair, ready to endure the whole cycle over again. Although I'm thankful for this break, it seems almost cruel to let someone get mostly happy and healthy before slamming them all over again with such an arsenal of chemicals. The house will grow quiet once more and the kids will be shushed, "Settle down guys, Daddy's resting."

Picking up speed

After being the ultimate couch potato for the past few days (with good reason) Reese is off to the office for a few hours again. You can only eat so much chicken noodle soup (thanks Binckes family!) and watch so much Chronicles of Riddick (thanks Weber family!) before you go a little nutty, so the outing should do him some good. Plus, it's Administrative Professionals' day and I think he didn't want to miss the chance to wish Christina, the most awesome assistant ever, a happy day and thank her for putting up with him! He promised he'll be back home by lunch time, but I'm not holding my breath.

He felt pretty run down over the weekend and up until yesterday when he finally got some good solid naps. The boys are back to school now that Spring Break is over, so that certainly helped. He compared the tiredness to how you feel after you've cleaned the garage all day long, except that you haven't done anything but sit around the house. It's just that bone-deep kind of tiredness that calls you right back to the couch after you fetch something from the kitchen, and makes taking a shower seem like a huge task.

His Bleomycin infusion was fairly uneventful on Monday. He had less aches and pains from it this time and no fever. His platelet count, however, was so low that the nurses had to get confirmation from the doctor before giving him his treatment. So, he won't be playing any broom hockey or running with scissors, and we're praying that he won't have trouble with nosebleeds, which he gets frequently (nosepicker! just kidding). Hopefully, that problem will resolve by Monday, when he starts all over again with the etoposide and cisplatin regimen. It's hard to believe that he's practically on to cycle #2.