A Funky Day

Well...Yesterday I had my first appointment with the oncologist who is heading up the M-Vax vaccine trial, along with the research nurse who is assisting him with it all.
First I will say it is going to be a hectic couple of months! Through February there are going to be quite a few treks to Philly!
Tomorrow I will have to go in for the anergy panel. The nurse explained to me that this is some skin testing for a few different things (tetanus, tuberculosis, etc). Two days later (Friday) I have to return to see if there is a reaction there.
A couple of weeks after that, I go in to have some of the vaccine that was made from my own tumor cells injected into my forearm. This will be another test to check if there is a reaction to three different injections in that spot: One with the DNP modified melanoma cells, one with unmodified but de-activated mel cells, and the other with only a sugar solution. Then two days after that, I go in to check for a reaction to any of those injections.
Around December 27th will be another visit, I believe, with the nurse.
January 2 will be the date set to have the IV infusion of Cytoxan, which is the chemo agent used in between vaccine injections. The doc said I could very possibly experience some nausea and vomiting and feel a little sick for a couple of days, but overall, none of the more serious side effects that would be experienced at a higher dose.
After that, I see the oncologist once more, and after that, one vaccine injection every week for six weeks. They get a little further apart after that up until the six month mark. Then, if there were enough cells to make one more booster shot of vaccine, I will receive that then.
At the same time, I will be getting a CT scan at the three month mark, then six months later.

But first....I found out I gotta have another JP drain "installed" to drain a sizeable lymphocele/seroma that has refused to budge since my deep inguinal node dissection. Guess after having a "bumper crop" of lymph nodes removed, as my surgeon put it, that fluid has had a hard time finding a new route to follow. This will all be going down next week. The 5th for pre-admission stuff, then the 7th to have the drain put in. Yeehaw. Not.

However, to be honest, this thing is pretty good sized, if I do say so myself...and I would not be exaggerating to say that at times, it has felt like I am 4 or 5 months pregnant all over again. Sooo, while a having a JP can be no picnic in and of itself, I am just looking foward to taking care of this bugger and hopefully getting rid of it!

While I was there, the doc also had to get a thorough history of my melanoma case with dates, surgeries, etc. along with a past medical history of any other diseases or conditions.

Let me just interject here by saying that this always cracks me up when we get around to the past medical history. Whenever I answer more and more questions with a "No." I get that bug eyed look of shock by both docs and nurses alike. Diabetes?-No...Lung disease?-No...Hypertension?-No...and on and on...and on. Previous surgeries aside from those I had performed for melanoma?--Nope.

Not even an appendectomy or tonsillectomy as a kid?

No. I haven't even had my wisdom teeth pulled....But then again, I am 35 years old. How many health issues does the average mid thirty something have?

Aside from the occasional migraine, I am healthy as a horse. Or should I say "used to be." Although I don't look it and for the most part anyway, don't feel it, and though I definitely don't want to acknowledge it, I guess having cancer that can and has spread to some extent (still regionally) puts you in the SICK category.

At least by some standards anyway.

As I said before...I prefer not to acknowledge that.

For the most part, I feel great...and that is what counts. I am very aware that things can always be worse, so I am going to take advantage of this time while I can. Hoping like HELL that worse is a bridge I will never have to cross.

With all the formalities out of the way, we had to move on to bigger but not necessarily better things. Turns out that I had to have a full/complete physical while I was there...

And I mean COMPLETE.

That doc had to do things I had never even begun to anticipate.

Disclaimer: Do NOT proceed if you are more sensible or easily offended in any way.

First it was just the run of the mill vital signs and listening to my lungs along with checking my lymph node basins. Then he moved on to checking my eyes with a lighted scope. This part was funny because the doc instructed me that under no circumstances was I to look directly at the light. He then told me to look at my husband who was sitting in the chair across the room.

Ever have to stare, unblinking, at someone and try not to dissolve into laughter? Well...we were cracking each other up, which I am sure was not doing anything to help the doc any. Of course, it did not help that Ed was making faces at me ;P

The doc also, predictably enough, had to examine the virtual galaxy of moles to be found on just about every skin surface covering my body, then asked if any of my moles were changing. This, after being to countless dermatologist visits, is pretty run of the mill in the life of a melanoma patient.

The semi-naked chicken dance without the dancing...

Somewhat humiliating in its own right, yet something most of us have been forced to adjust to and accept as part of life now.

I mention that I have moles everywhere upon the doc's scrutiny of a mole on the inner part of the sole of my right foot. To which my husband pipes up brightly, "Even on her rump!" Snickering.

Ahhh. Lovely.

To be fair, we share a similar sense of humor and most times, keep each other in stitches.

Shortly thereafter, the doc instructs me to roll onto my side because he has to check my "backside" as he put it. I have no clue. I am thinking about that mole on my left @$$ cheek and how hard it will be for him to see it if I am lying on my left side.

Was I DEAD WRONG.

I hear the word hemoccult, digital and rectal called out to the nurse and with a very sharp intake of breath, a gasp that I am sure people heard two rooms down, and eyes literally popping out of their sockets, I stiffened up like rigor mortis set in prematurely.

Let the FUN begin.

Doc turns to my husband who is trying to choke back a laugh and says, "You don't have to remain in the room for this part of the examination."

Ed says: "I'll just turn away, but I ain't missin' this for the world." Choking back another laugh.

I fall back onto the exam table with a thud along with a hefty dose of dread and joke, "Yeah, YEAH...Laugh it up!"

As I said in a previous post: Sometimes it ain't pretty, but this definitely stretches the boundaries of that statement. Of course, when we were released to go home, both Ed and I were cracking jokes and laughing about the whole ordeal. Damn...they were thorough...

MAN....I guess the protocol is pretty strict for clinical trials...Heheh. I assume they just want to be sure in every way humanly possible that you are CLEAR.

Just another small price to pay for keeping on top of the fight.

But it goes without saying that the next time I hear the words "digital" or "rectal" in the same sentence again it may take a slew of blow darts, possibly a tranquilizer gun, a whole team of medical personell or even a lockdown on that cancer treatment unit to keep me from running for the hills.

WooHooo. Yeeeeeah.......NOT.