Less is more

Chemo session #2 today; all seemed to go well. The infusion was, as usual, preceded by a consult with Dr Parente. He was encouraging, as usual, and today had something more to be encouraging about: the PSA is down to 0.18. (It had been 2.0 previously.) So the ADT has done what it was supposed to do. I am not really having persistent side effects. The worst — and it is not bad — is an itchy and rough patch on the back of my hands, over the knuckles. I am putting a medicated cream on those, which calms them down.

I asked Dr P a couple of questions:

  1. Question: does the fact that the new metastases are in different places mean that the radiation therapy was successful in treating the old mets? Answer: yes.
  2. Question: will the dosage and/or concentration of Docetaxel (the chemo medication) increase over the six sessions? Answer: no. I am scheduled to have the maximum dosage, and this will be the same each time. If I experience worse side effects, the dosage can be reduced. The Docetaxel itself passes out of the system in 12-24 hours. Its effects on the tumours, however, continue for about three weeks. (He put this particularly carefully, not saying “get rid of” or anything like that.)

We had a gap in between the consult and the chemo, the latter being at 12 noon, so were able to go to the cafe in Epworth Eastern (just up the road from Dr P’s practice). We both had a coffee, my beloved the rest of her breakfast, and I had a toasted sandwich. Ambrosial!

Upstairs in the day oncology unit, it seemed like a full house. I got a little more information today from the nurse driving the drip. The sensation of heat around the face I had experienced during the last cycle was due to the anti-nausea drug wearing off; this is a steroid medication.  The powers that be are also pushing exercise for cancer patients. (I had heard a lot about this during the Peter Mac information session a few months ago.)  Fatigue is one of the most widely experienced side effects of chemotherapy, and exercise can, paradoxically, help reduce this. I got a leaflet about a subsidised exercise program, designed specifically for cancer patients. This is doubly apposite for me, as I have my gym membership on hold while completing the chemo, so I will be investigating this.

I was pretty tired when I got home, so had a crash for an hour or so. Still feeling fine. There is enough of last night’s meal left over for dinner for my beloved tonight. I will have cheese on toast, or possibly a jaffle, with my two allowed standard drinks. You beauty! There is more excitement coming up during the rest of the month, with a heater service, installation of the new coolers, a memoir writing class, and a get-together with some other Melbourne ModPo folk. Like, in RL! I tell you, Melbourne in spring is not for the faint-hearted.

Alert readers, and this is both of you, will notice some minor changes in the blog. I have gotten off my duff and created some new categories, and applied them to some posts. The categories themselves have been shuffled up the batting order in the sidebar, so they now sit under the “Follow blog via email” link. You may still have to scroll down to see the categories, but they are there. More to follow. No, I’m not using Library of Congress Subject Headings. I may make an exception for “Anecdotes, facetiae, satire, etc.”. (I’m not making this up, you know! Technically, this was not a full heading, but a standard subdivision. It was replaced in recent years by the much more prim “Humor”: see example.) Will I be going back and applying categories retrospectively? What do you think I am, a librarian or something?

Fine so far

This is somewhat of a place-holder message. The good news: PSA is down to 2.0, down from about 8. (This is the first time it’s headed south this year, I think.) This is the ADT treatment doing its thing. I’m generally feeling fine after the first chemo this afternoon. I have just slightly sore muscles, a bit like having been to the gym. Also subtly out of it; not unusually, though! Other than these hard to pin down symptoms, pretty good.

[This par was pasted in from an email, so may look a bit squashed up.) The chemo goes in three week cycles for prostate cancer. (Lucky breast cancer patients get it every week.) Apparently one can feel pretty ordinary in the middle week. This is because one’s red and white blood cell count are then at their lowest. That is also the week in which one is most vulnerable to infection. (The immune system is compromised by the chemo, so colds, flu etc. are something to avoid more than usually. I asked about going to meetings in that week, and the nurse said, if you know that the people you’re meeting aren’t sick, go ahead.
Anyway, I have lots of information to process. Will be in touch as I digest it all.

Dr Parente mk. II

At the risk of repeating myself, there was good and not so good news from the appointment with Dr Parente today.

(Briefly to recap: the PSA had risen in spite of the radiation treatment. So there was obviously something going on with the cancer. The purpose of the scan I had last week was to reveal what this was and where it was.)

The first piece of good news – and it is a big one – is that there are no metastases in the organs. The ones he mentioned, the lungs and liver, are clear. (I had heard that mets in the latter organ are particularly undesirable.)

The second is something I have thought of, not something mentioned by Dr P, so all the necessary caveats apply. However, the mets that were there in the last scan, in the left hip and left femur, aren’t there any more. So it would appear that the radiation treatment was successful in getting rid of those mets (or spots, as they refer to them).

The less good news is that there are five new spots, all in bone:

  • sternum
  • rib (right hand side)
  • lower thoracic spine
  • L4 vertebra
  • left sacrum (AKA the tailbone).

(I am inferring that these are all still small. I base this on the facts that they weren’t there at the last scan, and I don’t have any symptoms or pain.)

The PSA has risen a bit more at 8.6, further evidence that things are progressing in an undesirable direction.

So I am starting on conjunct hormone therapy and chemotherapy. The last time I saw him, Dr P did mention a couple of trials that strongly support this combo: STAMPEDE and CHAARTERED . So his view, which we share, is: what are we waiting for? Obviously we have to fire the big gun, as he put it. He rang the hospital pharmacy (Epworth Eastern is literally just up the road) to see if they had a box of Casodex. They did, he wrote me a script, and I have had my first one. I will be taking one of these each day for 28 days. This medication can affect the liver, so I am avoiding alcohol for the duration. (Just when I could have murdered a drink, too!)

In a fortnight I start the chemo part of the treatment:

  1. Zoladex; one injection every 3 months, and
  2. Taxetere (Docetaxel), once every 21 days, for six cycles (i.e. an 18 week course).

I have to have a blood test, and see Dr P, before each chemo session. The consult with him ended quite late, so his practice couldn’t contact the chemo people to make the first appointment. They will do this tomorrow, however, and let me know.

It is all a bit daunting, and a lot of information to process. We both found the consult fairly stressful for these reasons. However, he seems very positive. He feels that, at my age, and with my (relative) fitness, I will get through the chemo easily. Maybe this geeing-up is what oncologists do. However, I am grateful for it, for both our sakes. From here, I am just strapped in for the ride.

I just want things to be as normal, and mundane, as possible. We are taking some quotes for a new cooling system. I went to the Deakin open day yesterday, to investigate doing a course next year. I am going to a session in October about how to write a (non-boring) family history or memoir. I want to go on socialising, listening to music, fiddling around in the garden, and everything I am doing now. Obviously we will have to see how far this is possible.