Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

It’s been two months since my last blog posting and a few readers have asked for an update, which I really appreciate.

Last night was a sleepless night. I spent part of it thinking of my mother and grandfather and the cancer treatments they went through. I know why this all came up last night.

Two months ago I came home from my surgery in Manila. Janet and I were allowed to quarantine at home and I started the process of healing. For five weeks I had a large scab covering my surgery and the skin graft. But at five weeks the scab came off, showing that what was left behind wasn’t too bad. Better still, the remaining wound began to heal rapidly. I sent my surgeon a weekly selfie of my nose progress.

The progress was important for the obvious reasons but also because the surgeon had told me that once the nose was 100% healed I was to get a CT Scan, MRI and a round of radiation for any stray nasty cancer cells left behind. So while I was happy to see rapid healing I was perfectly fine to delay things for a few more weeks.

But last Monday I got a message that I was good to go and ready to proceed with the CT Scan and radiation; she said to forget the MRI. One thing down – I liked that.

The truth is if you look at my nose now you would have to know that I had cancer surgery two months ago otherwise you’d see nothing but a less than beautiful old nose. Skin grafts are amazing!

I’d enjoyed the last month. I’d come to the conclusion that the nose was healing and yet I knew I had time until the next medical stuff; so I relaxed, at least a little bit. But now I was back into reality. I had to make an appointment with my local dermatologist, find an oncologist to order and evaluate the CT, and find a radiation oncologist for the radiation step – the part I was most scared about.

So last Thursday I walked into Silliman Medical Center for an appointment with an oncologist. The doctor was at least as old as me – maybe a bit older (Janet estimated she was close to 80 but I’m not sure about that). Now I am not an agist – considering my age that would be silly. But still it gave me pause; I know how good my memory is nowadays. Worse still the doctor pulled out a magnifying glass to read the order my surgeon had written. Still she seemed pleasant enough as I told her the details of my surgery and after all I just needed her to order the CT Scan and imaging medication.

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The next day Janet and I came back to have the scan done. Now I’ve seen the large CT Scanners on TV doctors shows but that’s about all I knew. We paid for the scan (about P8.3k) then wandered around trying to find the pharmacy for the imaging medicine, designed to light me up for the chest scan. We found the place, got the bill, then had to go back downstairs to the cashier to pay for it, then return upstairs to pick it up. Cost? A less than modest 5k.

At that point we went to the Imaging Department. The imposing machine looked just like it did on TV. Where was Dr. House to run this thing? I met the young technician and asked her what would be happening and what possible problems or side effects I might have. She ran through a long list of effects the medicine might cause. I am sure the blood drained from my face. “So how do we avoid those side effects?”

“We will give you a test dose and wait five minutes to see if you have a reaction. If not we will proceed with the scan.”

“How long is the scan?” I asked. “Less than 20 minutes,” she said.

I got on the CT Scan table and they ran a machine test. The machine pretty much yells at you to “Take a deep breath and hold it.” Then after a moment “Breathe normally.” The thing was so loud Janet could hear it all from outside the treatment room.

The technician asked if I was Ok and I admitted I was nervous. I think this made her nervous. Janet speculated afterwards that she was intimidated because I am a foreigner. Not sure if this is true but she was very nervous about installing the IV for the imaging medication. Eventually she brought in someone else to put in the IV. She injected a small amount of the medicine to see if I would have a reaction. When I had no reaction we were ready. While I am not claustrophobic I was bracing myself for the 20 minutes under the machine. The table slid under the machine, the machine yelled at me to “HOLD MY BREATH” which I did, the table slid back out and the technician said over the microphone,”the test is over.” “What! That was it?” 30 seconds tops.

Later I realized that when I had asked her and she had said 20 minutes she was talking about the entire process, not the test itself. The communication gap strikes again.

After the test the technician asked me to wait for 20 minutes in case I had a reaction because “we’re right here at the ER.”

So I’d survived the test and was told I wouldn’t have the results until the following Wednesday. And now on Tuesday night I couldn’t sleep. What would the test – a test ordered to see if the cancer had spread – show?

Testing of all sorts in the Philippines is different. When the results are available you pick them up and then make an appointment with your doctor. So after picking up the results Janet and I scanned the papers to see what the results were. Yes there were several concerning issues – issues not uncommon for a 68 year old – but my medical eye saw nothing about spread.

At that point we went to the oncologist’s office and waited. She and her assistant were late; pretty common here. Eventually she arrived and began reading the report to me and explaining it, and surprisingly without the use of her magnifying glass. Yes, she wants a couple of follow up tests, which can happen during or after the radiation. And yes, we will probably do another CT in a few months to compare. And yes, she said at my age I should visit a cardiologist regularly. But nothing seemed to worry her too much.

So at that point, feeling more confident, I asked her about the radiation and admitted that my notion of radiation was what they did to my mother and grandfather over 50 years ago. She told me it was just like a light and I would feel no pain. Soon I will find out whether this is true or not.