Since my September 17 blog posting, I have lost most of the hair from my head. The day before yesterday I agreed with Damaris that what remained made it evident that I was undergoing this common side effect of chemotherapy, and she shaved off the remaining hair with a hair trimmer. So I no longer recognize myself when looking in a mirror. But I don't dwell on my changed looks, putting it out of my mind as I go about my daily business. I'll see if I can attach a new photo with my bald pate to this blog entry to give you all a laugh. Another piece of news is that yesterday I realized that the sense of touch in my left ear had returned. Apparently the reduction in size of the tumorous high neck lymph node had relieved the compression on my facial nerve that had caused the numbness.
Yesterday I had my radiation planning appointment at Johns Hopkins--my combined radiation/chemotherapy is scheduled to begin on October 10, Columbus Day. The appointment included a CT scan with my restraining mask that was fitted on August 25 holding my head and shoulders tightly to the CT table. The CT scan will show Dr. Quon, my radiation oncologist, the exact size and location of the tumors in my left tonsil, nasopharanx, and neck lymph nodes to which these have metastasized. He will determine precisely where the powerful X-ray beam of the linear accelerator will be aimed and how its intensity will be modulated to have maximum impact to kill any remaining cancer cells and to protect non-target tissues as much as possible in order to minimize side effects. The mask is essential so that my head and neck are held precisely where the radiation beam will be focused. Damaris and I met with Dr. Quon's oncology resident, Dr. Jing Zeng, who went over possible side effects, from common to uncommon, rare, and extremely rare, and she and I signed the form in which I consent to undergo the treatment and attest that possible side effects have been disclosed to me.
Likely short-term reactions to combined radiation and chemotherapy are reduced production of saliva and resulting difficulty swallowing and increased susceptibility to tooth decay, sore throat, reddening of the mucous membrane of my mouth and throat, ulceration of this mucous membrane, skin redness and irritation in the area treated, and difficulty or pain when swallowing. The Hopkins Cancer Center recommends placement of a feeding tube so that at least a minimum level of nutrition can be maintained if and when chewing and swallowing food become too difficult. It looks like the feeding tube will likely be placed during the week of October 10, before the worst side effects of radiation manifest themselves.
Starting October 10, my combined radiation and chemotherapy will last until Thanksgiving or a day or two into the following week. It's very unlikely that I will be able to enjoy eating Thanksgiving dinner, which will likely be at the Snyders, where we'll hopefully be jointed by Tim, our daughter-in-law Bret, and Raquel. But trust me, I'll be very Thankful to our Creator for being with family and close friends, and for being close to the end of my treatment and hopefully being cured. My only regrets will be that our son Steve and daughter-in-law Pati won't be with us. But I'll also be very thankful that they're taking care of our home in Grecia, Costa Rica, and our dogs Maya and Laika.
Meanwhile, Damaris and I will depart Washington DC by train next Friday to visit Tim and Bret in Chicago, returning to DC on October 9, the day before my next treatment begins. Hopefully, we'll be able to get lodging in the American Cancer Society's Hope Lodge in Baltimore for the duration of my treatment. I was placed on the Hope Lodge waiting list today, as well as the list for the Hopkins Hackerman-Patz Patient and Family Pavilion.
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