The Continuing Saga of the "Unlucky" and the Medically Interesting

Here's the latest in my continuing journey...

Saw Dr. Miradi, Infectious Disease Specialist Extraordinaire - this guy rocks -, last week.
He informed me that I am one of the "unlucky" ones who has contracted a strain of pneumonia they just haven't isolated. He said I could expect not to feel 100% for another month or two. Ouch! He added that he had "macho guys" in the same boat. I guess it makes things that much easier now knowing that I am "macho." So I had to have a doctor stick a probe into my lung for no apparent reason during my bronchoscopy- results were "unremarkable."

So I persist. Some days are good, some are tough. Still experiencing low-grade fevers and fatigue - and I cannot climb stairs without breathing heavily -, but I would have to say that all is well. Could be a lot worse. I will follow-up with Dr. Miradi in a few weeks. Meanwhile, per his request, I am tracking how I feel daily (body temp, etc.).

Next up: blood work Friday.
Dr. Zu next Tuesday followed by my monthly Sandostatin injection.

Thank you for the positive thoughts and wishes. Without you - and the love of my beautiful Christine -, I would not know what I would do.

All my best!

I am Back...

Good weekend.

I have had a good weekend. While I am still tired – I imagine the fatigue won’t pass for a while – I have been fairly active without major repercussions.
 
I spoke to Dr. Miradi, Infectious Disease Specialist Extraordinaire, and he agrees that I am in full recovery. He did emphasize that I may experience some minor symptoms (fatigue, elevated body temperature) that are indicative of recovery from pneumonia. In short, my body still needs to clear the remnants of the infection from my system. Still no definitive word on the strain of pneumonia I contracted. But at this point, it may be moot, eh?

My plan is to return to work tomorrow and to a regular schedule. I will take things slowly, but I am excited about getting back to my routine and feeling like myself again.

All my love and appreciation for your encouragement and support. Try not to laugh too hard at the HP (Harry Potter) scar. I have an appointment Tuesday to take stitches out.

A Whole New World...

A Whole New World…

Okay, pardon the cheesy Disney reference, but I ventured out into the real world today.

After a good night that included some uncomfortable coughing – see, the coughing is good, but the sore ribs aren't -, I slept well. I have a new appreciation for pillows, that’s for sure. And no detectable fevers!

I visited Patrick Henry today for a brief period of time as a "test" run. I wanted to see how I would respond to increased activity and a possible return to work. It was good! Although fatigue set in rather quickly, the emotional boost from a return to semi-normalcy was awesome.

It was great to see the kids and my wonderful colleagues. In the grand scheme of the universe, my battle with pneumonia has been short. But the time away from the kids, a normal routine and feeling better has seemed like forever.

Much love and appreciation for y’all.

I hope to be back to my regular routine soon although at 20 m.p.h. and not my usual 120 m.p.h.

Move Over Jack Nicholson!

Good morning (good morning), Good morning (to you!)

I had a great night last night, and have been fever free now for 48 hours.  While I am sore as all get out from my fall, I have finally managed to sleep! Hoo Hoo!

Will continue to rest at home. Still on a heavy duty antibiotic and will be for another five days. Return to work looks promising!

In the “this is too funny category”:

Christine changed the dressing on my HP (that’s Harry Potter, folks!) laceration on my forehead last night. In replacing the gauze she used a little too much, making me look like a character from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I could not stop laughing at the absurdity of the situation and, despite the discomfort laughing caused, made us feel human again. I guess what life sometimes throws at us is crazy, but that’s what makes it so real.

Thanks again for all of your love and support! 

Good day today!

I am happy to report that I have been fever free for almost 24 hours! The antibiotics seem to be doing their job - finally!

Christine and I managed to get out to walk, and while I am winded and sore, I feel for the first time in a while that I am getting stronger.

After my standing appointment for my shot – of course, back at the hospital – we popped up to check on Maris. He will be moving to a Shea Family Care Facility in El Cajon in a few days.

Thanks for all of your love and support!

 

Stayed tuned for more good news!

"WTF? Are you kiddin' me?"

Tuesday, April 08, 2014

Dear Friends, Trusted Colleagues, Family, and Fans of Me!

I call this “WTF? Are you kiddin’ me?”

The tale I am about to tell you is true. None of the details I am about to share are fabricated. (Although once you read them, like me, you would wish they were).

Many of you know that I did not feel well in the weeks leading up to Spring break (should the S be capitalized?): low-grade fever, dry cough, chills, night sweats. I continued to show up to work because it kept me focused, positive-minded, and happy. The fevers were responsive to Tylenol/Ibuprofen. Dr. Zu, my oncologist, was in China visiting family for three weeks. (I scolded him for choosing this time to take his trip).

Upon his return, he advised that we rule out any cancer involvement and, because my quarterly scan was due, decided to see what the scan revealed. I had the scan on March 25^th. By this time, however, my fevers were no longer low-grade, and I left school on Monday the 24^th  – my birthday! - with a fever of 103.3. The scan on the 25^th showed no cancer involvement, but clearly showed that I had pneumonia.  Christine and I breathed a sigh of relief. While I try live each day with positivity and a joie-de-vivre, I must admit that I struggled during this time to do so and retreated into a somber shell, depressed and full of angst.

Dr. Zu prescribed a standard, broad spectrum oral antibiotic over the course of 5 days to treat the pneumonia. I started the antibiotic regimen on March 25^th. I planned to use break to rest, recover my strength, and return to work. Christine and I felt better emotionally because we had a course of action and I was looking forward to finally feeling better physically.

Unfortunately, the antibiotic did not work.  The high fevers, while responsive to Tylenol/Ibuprofen, did not dissipate. A fever of 102 on Friday, the 4^th, prompted Zu to hospitalize me for a round of IV antibiotics. An x-ray confirmed that I still had pneumonia in my left lung.  My pneumonia, however, did not respond despite the intense antibiotic regimen.

Enter the infectious disease specialist. Because of the unusual presentation of my symptoms – pneumonia typically has a much more rapid onset- he believed that I had contracted a resistant, funky, unusual strain of pneumonia. The metaphor he used (and if you’re not sure what a metaphor is, see one of our great English teachers) is that pneumonia  is like getting hit by a car and breaking your legs: while the car (strain) keeps going, your legs are still broken (pneumonia). The goal, then, became identifying the strain.

There are standard ways to identify a strain including blood analysis, urinalysis, psychoanalysis – well, maybe not that last one. These all revealed nothing. Another way is identification through antibiotic. If a particular antibiotic mitigates fever, etc. then, by default, it is a particular strain.  While the antibiotics helped a bit, they did not knock down my fevers.

Enter the pulmonologist. (This part will keep you riveted, I promise).  In order to get closer to the infection, he recommended an endoscopy. This involves going into the lung to grab sputum and some tissue (it would have been so much easier if I had a productive cough). Hearing the word “biopsy” on Sunday threw me for a tailspin. (I was reassured that it meant grabbing tissue for analysis).

The pulmonologist performed the endoscopy on Monday, the 7^th. If you are squeamish, you may want to skip this part. Under conscious sedation, the lung guy went into my left lung through my nostril, used a brush to sample some sputum, took some tissue for biopsy, and flushed out the lung. Let me say that I was more conscious during this process than I would have liked.

I should add here that the attendants during this process were awesome. The lung guy was 30 minutes later to the procedure than planned, so Jonas and I rapped about the music on his “I” Device. From the Philippines, Jonas grew up listening to American music. I know my music trivia.

The scope itself was unremarkable (this is a good thing).  The results of the scope won’t be known for a few days.

My medical team decided that it would be best to send me home to await the scope results and that I could manage fevers just as easily at home. Yeah!  (I should note that while I still have fevers, I am having fewer). My discharge was planned, for Tuesday, the 8^th, barring anything crazy.

In anticipation of my discharge, I asked the nurse if could shower (yes, they do allow that). So I ambulated to the shower area and hopped into the shower. I was suddenly overcome with dizziness, steadied myself best I could, and then found myself on the floor of the shower in a pool of blood, having fainted.  In addition to whacking my ribs, I had nasty lacerations on my forehead and chin.

So, they rolled me down to the ER where I received 18 stitches: 10 on my forehead a la Harry Potter and 8 on my chin.

I then had a CT scan to rule out any head trauma and an x-ray to rule out broken ribs, which they did.

Once the admitting doctor reviewed these tests, he agreed that it was okay for me to go home.

I am home…..

Hopefully, the results of the scope will be known soon. Meanwhile, I am happy to be home with Christine, albeit sore and dazed and confused.

I do want to add that my roommate during my stay, Maris, did not have a single visitor the entire time I was there.  Maris, 65, had a bad reaction to his radiation and chemo, and was in a lot of pain.  While I would not wish the last few weeks of my life on anyone, I had the love and support of my beautiful wife, family, friends and colleagues.  I am greatly saddened that Maris appeared to be alone. (This really tears at me). Christine and I plan on visiting him.

Thank you for being part of my life.  I hope to be back soon.

With love, respect, and humility,

Andrew

Good News... I have pneumonia

Well, I finally have some clarity regarding my recent health. As many of you know, I have not felt well for the past four to five weeks.

I had a CT Scan today to rule out any possible cancer involvement. Normally, Dr. Zu contacts me within 24 hours, but he called me within a couple of hours of the scan to let me know that I have pneumonia. While this may seem like bad news, Christine and I are relieved that there is no change in the status of my cancer. I cannot begin to tell you what an emotional burden has been lifted from us with this news.

I will start on an antibiotic tonight.

Thank you for all of the positive thoughts and prayers. They have made the last four weeks bearable.

All my love.

Update

I apologize for the gaps in my blog.

Since I posted last, much has occurred:

While still teaching, I have taken a Sabbatical from coaching this spring. I have taken the time to work on my professional life, tutoring over at the San Diego State Community Reading Clinic and working to finish up my Reading Specialist Credential. I should have everything complete by end of 2014.

I have enjoyed spending more time with Christine! This has been a blessing for sure!

In February, Christine and I delivered the inspirational speech at the Annual Mass of Hope. The transcript of the speech is below:

Fr. Clavin, Members of the Family Cancer Support Ministry, Parishioners, Family, and Guests, thank you for joining us tonight for the 5^th Annual Mass of Hope. With humility, Christine and I are honored to share with you our journey with cancer and our experience with the Family Cancer Support Ministry.

Please join us in acknowledging the members of this wonderful ministry (please stand to be recognized).

*Before we continue, I’d like to share with you that I saw my doctor today and am happy to report that I am doing well!

________________________________________________________

You have cancer. 

Words that no one wants to hear. Words that strike fear into the hearts to whom the statement is delivered. Words that strike fear into the minds of the ones who love and care for those who have it.

Karl Menninger, famous psychiatrist, stated that “the very word ‘cancer’ is said to kill some patients who would not have succumbed (so quickly) to the malignancy from which they suffer.”

While cancer is diagnosable and discernible as a biological mutation through medical examinations and tests, the very label itself embodies a frame of mind that often determines life and death. Hearing the word “cancer” is sometimes worse than the actual disease itself.

During the year following my diagnosis, cancer was all Christine and I talked about. It was, as St. John of the Cross described, our Dark Night. Doctors’ appointments, medical insurance, prescriptions, side effects from my treatment. Every ache was magnified into another aspect of cancer. I’d come home and dump all my frustrations, anger, angst, and fear on Christine. While Christine was supportive and understanding, one day she had enough and turned to share her frustrations, anger, angst, and fear with me. She had held onto these feelings for a long time because she believed that her feelings couldn’t compare to the one who had cancer. If I couldn’t share with my wife, with whom could I share? But I was being selfish. If she couldn’t share with me, with whom could she share?

The conversation sticks vividly in our memories:

Do we have to talk about the fact that you have cancer again? Isn’t there anything else we can talk about?

You are my wife, I should be able to share my frustrations with you about living with cancer.

Okay, you are my husband, and I should be able to share my frustrations with you about you sharing your frustrations with me about living with cancer.

We looked at each other, paused, and realized that for the sake of our relationship something had to change.

It was important for Andrew to talk with someone who understood what it was to have cancer (thank you, Will Hurley), dealing with treatment and side effects, while contemplating the mortality of the whole experience. Only someone who has had cancer, is battling cancer, or, like him, is living with cancer can relate to what that means.

It was important for me (Christine) to speak with someone who understood what it was to live with someone with cancer (thank you, Mary Brewer). To understand why someone who was normally positive and full of life was now intermittently depressed and angry, or often sullen and quiet.

We started attending the Cancer Support Ministry by chance about six months before this conversation after we were invited by two friends (Erin and Andy Mangahis) to attend mass at St. Gregory’s. In the bulletin on that day was a notice about the cancer support ministry.

Through the cancer support ministry, we learned to embrace cancer as an opportunity to love life, to love God, to love nature, and to love each other and our families each and every day.  And through the cancer support ministry, we emerged from our Dark Night to discover the radiant love of God and family around us.

To have hope, one’s vision cannot be dark and uncertain. One has to make a choice to embrace life, love, and forgiveness, and to live each day with intent and purpose. We learned what about life was worth living for. 

We look forward to offering support and encouragement to others who may have the diagnosis of cancer thrust upon them. Cancer is, after all, a family illness.

  

Cancer is not a death sentence.

Cancer is not the end of the world.

Cancer is not the focus of our lives.

Yes, we have cancer.

But it doesn’t have us.

Thank you. God be with you.

Dr. Zu has been out of town on vacation, so I haven't seen him since February. I am hoping to talk to him this week to find out the results of my latest blood work. My body is fighting something, and will feel better when I had a chance to talk to him.  I have maintained my weight thanks in large part to good eating and a great appetite.

I am looking forward to vacation at the end of March. Time to re-create, re-charge, and to re-juvenate!

All my best.

Scan and Scan Results!

Hi All,

I had a CT scan of my chest, abdomen, and pelvis as well as an MRI of my brain (of my brain)(of my brain)(of my brain) on Tuesday, 26 November 2013. The most difficult part of the procedure is the waiting. Upon arrival for the scan, I am given a solution of Crystal Light with a radioactive marker that I have to drink and let sit for one hour. Prior to scan, Hiromi (gee, isn't it great that I am on a first name basis with the staff!) places an IV in my arm so that the radiologist can easily administer a contrast during the scans. Fortunately, she is good at her job! I had the CT scan first followed by the MRI. The MRI is loud. I typically listen for hidden messages in the knocking the machine makes. I swear I now know where Jimmy Hoffa is buried as well as who Carly Simon was singing about in "You're So Vain." (I'd tell you, but I signed a waiver prior to my scans prohibiting me from doing so.).

While I typically have to wait until my next appointment with Dr. Zu to find out the results, Grace (I love that her name is Grace, by the way), Dr. Zu's assistant, called to give me the good news that my scan results look good. No change since my last scan! Hoo Hoo!

So, Happy Happy Thanksgiving to all! I am grateful for your love, encouragement, and friendship!

Here's to a great holiday season!

All my love,

Andrew

Next Up: Appointment with Dr. Zu on December 17!

Progress Update

Hello All! Hard to believe that the school year has gone so quickly.

I saw Dr. Zu yesterday, Tuesday, 19 November 2013, for my monthly appointment and Sandostatin shot (can't forget about that!).

He says I am doing well. My weight is up 2 pounds and my vitals look good. My WBC, while low from the Afinitor, is stable. Because I have had a head cold forEVER, he checked my lungs and reported that all is clear.

I was hoping that I'd get one of the hot nurses to give me my shot, but, alas, Ray was the only nurse available to administer the gluteal dose. Not to worry, I am blessed to have a hot wife at home!

I have much to be thankful for this year: Christine, my beautiful wife, my friends, my job, and my family. Blessings to all at this time!

Next up: CT and MRI on November 26 to assess treatment efficacy.

Thanks for all of your love, encouragement, and positivity.

Happy Thanksgiving!