Chubby Hermie

Other than the growth of Hermie, the meeting went relatively well. The oncologist listened to our protocol, but as he was nodding, we realized that our protocol doesn't matter. I could have inserted the name of any treatment and he wouldn't have cared. He had already looked at my scans and determined that little Herman had grown. He didn't care about the three other areas which had visibly shrunk. We are incredibly bummed that Herm grew, but the tumor cells are less densely populated, and we're looking into two new institutions for further review. We're also going to contact the researcher who tackles artemisinin to see if he will comment on the scans. We're hoping that he will expand on the typical growth patterns of tumors treated with artemisinin. In reviewing the subject, my family and I recall the possibility of the tumor expanding before it gets smaller. Here's a couple of photos for your review. 

Oct 2011 - Jan 2012 - April 2012

After the MRI, but before the meeting with my oncologist, I went to the records department and had a tech burn a disk of my MRI. We brought all of my previous disks from all of my other MRI's and we reviewed them on my father's laptop so that we wouldn't be blindsided during the appointment. It also makes it easier to figure out any questions we might have. The doctor has no idea that we did that. He never knew that we had already reviewed the scan. I don't think it matters though - he doesn't have to know EVERYTHING.

April 2011 - Oct 2011 - Jan 2012 - April 2012

After the appointment, we mailed off a copy of the scan to our friends who have already beat their cancer, then we headed to my parent's hotel. We pulled up all of the scans, and analyzed to our heart's content. We looked at them with the lights on, with the lights off, from a side angle, from above and below. We zoomed in and we zoomed out. It's important to really go through this stuff with a fine toothed comb. Our oncologist is very busy, he doesn't have the time (only 30 minutes) to review everything, so recently we started conducting our own reviews at home.

My oncologist is not impressed with my protocol, he feels that I still need to start doing radiation. He said that the growth was minimal, but it is still growth. He doesn't care that in the past six months there has been barely any growth, he's concerned about the past year of scans. I understand what he says, but at the same time, all we care about is the past six months - that's the time frame of the artemisinin. I told my oncologist that I'm not ready to give up, that I'm going to do three more months of artemisinin.

Today was exhausting and I need to go relax. We just got home and I need to put my feet up. It's a bummer that Hermie grew, but at least his friends are shrinking. All in all, at least Herms isn't growing exponentially. It could be a lot worse, and I'm grateful. I'm sad that he grew, but I know that this isn't over!

Transparency

Last night, Danny went with his college buddies to bottle their personally crafted beer at a local brewery. Left to my own devices, I whitened my teeth, mudded my face, and ate a pound of strawberries. I don't need to say much about the latter choice, other than it was excessive and thirty minutes later, I immensely regretted my over consumption.

I'm anxious for the MRI tomorrow morning. I realize that what is done is done, that whatever we see is what we see, but I can't help but be nervous. I wish I could just let it all roll off my back, and live my life, then show up at the hospital and finally worry. There's no point in stressing about the results, and yet, it's impossible to avoid it.

In my semi-stressed state, I've been reading a couple of books written by doctors. One was the book titled, The Anatomy of Hope, and then the most recent is Routine Miracles. Both are giving me a better perspective of a doctor's position in patient care. It has prompted me to reorganize my appointment. Let me expand.

I've decided that I need to discuss my alternative treatment with my oncologist. Not in the glossed over fashion that we've attempted in the past, which has caused us to be brushed off. I need to get more in depth and I believe that since we've always met with my oncologist as a group, my parents, Danny, and I, our large presence limits intimacy. So, tomorrow, Danny and I will meet privately with my oncologist and explain everything that we've been doing, starting from the beginning.

We will explain that we've been doing a researched based protocol. I'm going to tell him that the research has been conducted in the Bioengineering Department right here at the University of Washington. I will tell him that we're in contact with the researchers, and that we have a friend who has already eradicated her tumor with a combination of said treatment. This friend had the same exact type of brain tumor as mine, a stage 2 infiltrated/diffuse astrocytoma, even down to the lack of co-deletion of p19-1q (he will recognize the importance of that statement).

I'm going to tell my oncologist that this protocol is not invasive, it's cheap, and relatively speaking, it is without side effects. I'm going to tell the doctor that I need an oncologist that's willing to follow my situation, and understand that I am a unique case. I want someone who is on board, and excited about the progress and fortitude with which I'm going to fight this. I'm going to feel out this oncologist and see if he truly wants to see me cured with any type of treatment, or if he is more interested in western medicine's standard of care. My case is definitely out of the box, and I'm going to tell him that I'm looking for a teammate. By having this honest and open dialog, I think I will find out whether or not I will keep him on my team. It's all about how he responds to this discussion.

I'm excited and nervous to have this talk. I think it's about time I gave transparency to my doctors, but I also understand that it could go horribly wrong. It's a risk that I'm willing to take, though, it has to happen so that I can get the best care. They need to know what they're dealing with, and I need to give them the opportunity to truly help.

After Danny and I discuss my situation with my oncologist, we're going to call in my parents so that we can all review the MRI results. I feel like the first half of the meeting needs to be intimate, and private, so that the oncologist isn't overwhelmed by all of our faces, expressions, questions, etc. I want to look in my doctor's eyes and have his full attention. I am going to lay it all out on the table, and analyze his reactions. This could be an epic success or a tragic failure. Either way, in life, I'm reminded, you can't be afraid of the answers because it's the only way to move forward.