I am typing this from a stretcher about to be rolled in for the bone marrow.
You gotta love how good Arkansas is about getting patients their data. I looked at the PET scan results. Largest lesion remains in my right hip at 3.5 cm. I seem to recall that is unchanged from last time, which is disappointing. Plus the SUV for my L5 vertebrae went from 1.3 to 1.6. Hopefully this is just noise and neither figure is indicative of cancer but I like numbers to go down, not up.
Second nerves-inducing moment was overhearing the bone marrow nurses. I am to be the first attempt by one of them. Things like "if you do that, then you will just need to make another hole."
Let's not do that, okay?
And while you are at it, keep your voices down or have these conversations out of earshot!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Arkansas update, or BOOP BLEEP BZZZZ BLAM BLAM BLAM
Those onomatopoeias there reflect but a few seconds worth of the aural cacaphony of an MRI.
I had about two hours worth of that plus a host of other loud noises yesterday afternoon. Only here, ground zero for aggressive testing, could they find a way to make an MRI more exhaustive (and exhausting). I may have written last time about the relatively new (I think) DWIBS scan which essentially a second full body MRI focusing specifically on bone marrow. So now, one has basically TWO full body MRIs to deal with.
I also had my tenth or eleventh PET scan yesterday. I found out that I can listen to my iPod during the roughly fifty minute scan. File that under "things I wish I had learned nine or ten scans ago."
I will get the results of these scans tomorrow when I meet with BB, whom I saw at dinner last night. He was having a dinner with his right arm, BJ, and the head of an imaging company. I am sure BB and his patients are some of the best customers. I believe there are six MRIs at UAMS, with zero downtime, running 12 plus hours a day, and 80 percent of the entire volume is for Myeloma. Amazing!
Yesterday began with port access and blood draw. I was unsuccessful in my efforts to get them to use the port for the blood. The clotting factor (important to confirm before a bone marrow biopsy can be done) is rendered inaccurate by the heparin used in the line after each access to ensure it doesn't clog. So they found a vein in the thick part of my right forearm, about three inches towards the hand, versus the inner fold of the arm at the elbow where people with healthy veins are usually tapped.
I asked the nurse about the likelihood of my veins returning to health. It does not sound promising, sadly. C'est la vie. Difficult-to-find veins scarred by chemotherapy are not going to kill me, and I have long since learned to accept that the "new normal" is a life replete with little inconveniences.
(a real-time note: the delightful doctor with whom I just checked in to make sure I could tolerate the anesthesia for the biopsy just asked if i was related to Dick van Dyke...but was astut enough to note that this was probably not the first time I had been asked).
Anyhow, while I was not successful in getting them to use the port for the blood draw, I was able to have them access it for the tracer used in the PET scan, and I will use it for the sedation today, so that saves a couple of IVs. I also refused the use of contrast for my MRI. They use it sometimes to make the brain easier to interpret and I have had it before. But there was never any myeloma involvement in my brain (thus, my questionable brain function must have another source) so I don't feel compelled to do this often, particularly since I am in remission (knock on wood that it hasn't been lost) and since I heard a rumor on another blog (albeit one that advocates curcumin rather than treatment) that the tracer is bad for you.
Which brings me to this morning. Checking into the hosipital for the first of two pre-op consults, in the waiting room I was treated to the thrill-a-minute joyride that is closed circuit television coverage of the swearing in of the eight recruits comprising the new additions to the Little Rock police force. I was just about to listen to the moving convocation delivered by either the city sub-comptroller or dogcatcher (it was difficult to discern) when I was called in.
I did see a more thorough blood analysis from yesterday's pull (more labs were finished) and the numbers look good, though still no M-protein numbers. But B2M was a mere 1.4, the lowest it has ever been. Protein is 5.9. The graph looked good as well. My liver numbers are essentially all in range (AST's range is essentially 15-50 and I am at 52) so the amount of water I am drinking must be helping combat the effects of Lipitor, chemo, and wine.
More news at it becomes available.
Nb it is FREEZING here. Literally. 23 degrees as I drove in this morning!
I had about two hours worth of that plus a host of other loud noises yesterday afternoon. Only here, ground zero for aggressive testing, could they find a way to make an MRI more exhaustive (and exhausting). I may have written last time about the relatively new (I think) DWIBS scan which essentially a second full body MRI focusing specifically on bone marrow. So now, one has basically TWO full body MRIs to deal with.
I also had my tenth or eleventh PET scan yesterday. I found out that I can listen to my iPod during the roughly fifty minute scan. File that under "things I wish I had learned nine or ten scans ago."
I will get the results of these scans tomorrow when I meet with BB, whom I saw at dinner last night. He was having a dinner with his right arm, BJ, and the head of an imaging company. I am sure BB and his patients are some of the best customers. I believe there are six MRIs at UAMS, with zero downtime, running 12 plus hours a day, and 80 percent of the entire volume is for Myeloma. Amazing!
Yesterday began with port access and blood draw. I was unsuccessful in my efforts to get them to use the port for the blood. The clotting factor (important to confirm before a bone marrow biopsy can be done) is rendered inaccurate by the heparin used in the line after each access to ensure it doesn't clog. So they found a vein in the thick part of my right forearm, about three inches towards the hand, versus the inner fold of the arm at the elbow where people with healthy veins are usually tapped.
I asked the nurse about the likelihood of my veins returning to health. It does not sound promising, sadly. C'est la vie. Difficult-to-find veins scarred by chemotherapy are not going to kill me, and I have long since learned to accept that the "new normal" is a life replete with little inconveniences.
(a real-time note: the delightful doctor with whom I just checked in to make sure I could tolerate the anesthesia for the biopsy just asked if i was related to Dick van Dyke...but was astut enough to note that this was probably not the first time I had been asked).
Anyhow, while I was not successful in getting them to use the port for the blood draw, I was able to have them access it for the tracer used in the PET scan, and I will use it for the sedation today, so that saves a couple of IVs. I also refused the use of contrast for my MRI. They use it sometimes to make the brain easier to interpret and I have had it before. But there was never any myeloma involvement in my brain (thus, my questionable brain function must have another source) so I don't feel compelled to do this often, particularly since I am in remission (knock on wood that it hasn't been lost) and since I heard a rumor on another blog (albeit one that advocates curcumin rather than treatment) that the tracer is bad for you.
Which brings me to this morning. Checking into the hosipital for the first of two pre-op consults, in the waiting room I was treated to the thrill-a-minute joyride that is closed circuit television coverage of the swearing in of the eight recruits comprising the new additions to the Little Rock police force. I was just about to listen to the moving convocation delivered by either the city sub-comptroller or dogcatcher (it was difficult to discern) when I was called in.
I did see a more thorough blood analysis from yesterday's pull (more labs were finished) and the numbers look good, though still no M-protein numbers. But B2M was a mere 1.4, the lowest it has ever been. Protein is 5.9. The graph looked good as well. My liver numbers are essentially all in range (AST's range is essentially 15-50 and I am at 52) so the amount of water I am drinking must be helping combat the effects of Lipitor, chemo, and wine.
More news at it becomes available.
Nb it is FREEZING here. Literally. 23 degrees as I drove in this morning!
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