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| Seidman Cancer Center Beachwood, Ohio |
In just a little bit, Joyce and I will drive up to Seidman--again!--to go over the results from my recent blood work and scans (a CT scan of the abdomen, a nuclear bone scan--last week). I've already seen the results on the University Hospitals portal. My blood work looks okay, though my PSA (Prostate Specific Antigen) is still creeping upward. It remains very low, but all movement the past few tests has been in a direction I don't like. A higher PSA means cancer activity.
This chart shows you my PSA results since I underwent radiation therapy back in the fall of 2018 (the second round of radiation I'd experienced)--some cancer had invaded one of my vertebrae, so ... they zapped it repeatedly for a couple of weeks.
6 August 2018
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20.13
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12 September 2018
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11.98
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16 October 2018
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3.36
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9 November 2018
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1.93
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15 January 2019
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1.07
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18 April 2019
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0.33
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10 July 2019
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0.29
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11 September 2019
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0.63
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9 October 2019
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0.85
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12 December 2019
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1.01
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14 January 2020
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1.3
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As you can see, it bottomed out at .29 in July 2019--and now, five months later, it's up to 1.3. So, we'll see what my oncologist says about that later this morning.
As for the scans, I read the reports, but I'm not exactly sure what they mean (I was an English major, recall!), so I'll have to delay news on them until I find out what's going on--or not going on.
I'll try to update this post later today when we get back.
10: 40 a.m.
We're finally home--took a long time to do not too much. Waiting, it seems, is a part of everything that's important.
And, oh, there's nothing quite like I-271 at rush hour, a time when the latent inhumanity of all drivers rises to the surface and roars like the MGM lion!
The medical news is not so encouraging this time. The bone scan showed new spots on two different vertebrae, so I'll repeat the nuclear bone scan--as well as PSA test--in three months, at which time I will probably, says my oncologist, go on a new med to see if it can retard the spread. It, too--even if it works--is temporary. Then it's on to something else. Chemo also now lies in my future, it seems.
Side-effects of the new med include weariness--as if I need more of that!
We ended my morning getting my quarterly injection of Trelstar (in my hip), and the nurse who administered it this time is the mother of my former (and wonderful) Harmon Middle School student, Ashley Quintin. (She's now married with a different surname.) Her mom told me that Ashley was in my 8th grade English class thirty years ago--and has two kids now, both of whom (I think) are older than she was when I taught her. This is getting annoying ...
Anyway, the news was a little darker this time, as I said, but no one is panicking--or dealing me that final all-black card.
So ... on I go on this walk into a future both certain and uncertain ... with Joyce holding my hand, whispering soft words to me with each step ...
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