“David Foster's Kicking Kidney Cancer’s Arse”

Merry Christmas to all us Renal Patients

I read in the paper this morning that new ORAL drug for renal cancer has been approved by the FDA. This is the first ever drug approved for renal cancer (my chemo, by the by, has been for colon cancer, which is why so many renal patients, like 99%, do not respond to it. For me, however, a little colon treatment has been good for my renal cancer, go figure). Anyway, if the side affects of the new drug are not too bad, I should be off chemo in four weeks and that alone, I think, will make me feel better.

Sorry for two wellness messages in as many days, but this news is so good for so many people, I had to share it with my friends.

Dave

Whooweee, menopause

So yesterday I reached the extreme of chemo reactions:  Whooooweee, menopause!

That's right, every woman's late life scourge became mine for a day and what a day it was.

So, they increased some of my medicines at the beginning of this cycle. Last week the reactions were all steroid induced; this week I don't know what the heck.

Everything was fine until I left the doctor's office. I get to the windy, cold (like 35 degrees cold) parking lot, weaving my way through geriatrics trying to park and unpark overly large American automobiles (makes them feel safe; scares the hell out of the rest of us) and I begin to feel warm, warm goes to hot, I take the jacket off, I undo my collar, sweat trickles down my chest, I get to the car, I crank it up and turn on the air conditioner, but still the sweat pops out of my face, face is also red and I think I am dying, but at the same time, I don't feel, like you know, bad or anything.

So I decide to head for work, see what happens. A block down the street I begin to cool off, the sweat just becomes a clammy glum, then cooler, then cooler still. Then down right cold. Jumping whatevers, this is weird. I turn the heat on, put the jacket back on, wish I had gloves. This is weird, weird, weird.

Now, I have never learned how to read my wife in the mornings. Some times just a "Good Morning sweetie," means you draw back with nub. Now I understand. As I walk into the office with the chills leaving the heat coming back this lady says nicely, "Good morning, Dave." And I want to say "What's it too YOU? Can't you see I'm having a hot flash and its ALL YOUR FAULT!?"
But I don't. Just nod and move on. She may think I was being stuck up. She has no idea how lucky she was I kept my mouth shut. An hour later I was feeling badly about that. Downright maudlin. Almost to tears. And then it came to me: chemically induced menopause. Or so it seems.

So I get into my office and people come to ask me this or that. Some I am nice too, others I just want to say "WHY ARE YOU BOTHERING ME. CAN"T YOU SEE I'M HAVING CHILLS--AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT" But I don't. The chills were diminishing and the heat was coming back. I didn't want to confuse them.

E-mail was tough, what with one hand in mitt, which I used to wipe sweat from the other one.

But I think of this as training wheels, a blessing from God, because with the distaff half goes into that long-term version of the same thing I will be a much more caring and understanding husband, unless of course it is the day I have three bags full of chemo and then the War of the Roses will look like a skirmish at the marriage counselors.

And that's my report for the week.

A Very Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all and thanks so much, again, for your prayers and support through out this trying year.

Dave

Whoooo weee, baby.

Hope you all had a great holiday this year. Turkey all around, unless you are vegetarian, in which case I hope the tofu was excellent, not to mention the broccoli salad.

Well, back on the chemo, this time with a bigger dosage of Avastin, the cancer specific drug. I know I have taken a bigger dosage because for the first time since all this started I am feeling, like, you know, nauseous.

Nasty stuff, that chemo nausea. Since I've not had it before it is difficult to describe, but I do know the steroids (hooray for steroids) get in the way so instead of taking my poor nauseous self home to lay down and suffer, I prefer to swing from the rafters in the office. It is very entertaining for the other employees who laugh and giggle as I swing by but have no idea what surprises gurgle and boil beneath the happy facade. And you thought I was a tad schizoid before cancer.

Anyway this will be my routine until after Christmas (and I was feeling so good yesterday: went to a horse show, mulched a million or so leaves in the back yard, did Mexican for dinner, took my last shower for three weeks), but the doc says I gotta do the chemo so that I have a chance of ever doing a retirement party. It takes about three weeks to fully recover from a six-week chemo program, and I had just hit three weeks yesterday. So I got in one super day. Yea.

Otherwise all is calm on the cancer front. Thanks for your continuing prayers and thoughts. I think back to last March to when I was really was a very sick man and it is not medical treatments I remember, but your support.
It means so much.

Dave