On Big Bay

7/25/07

“If anyone is unwilling to descend into himself, because this is too painful, he will remain superficial.”
-- Ludwig Wittgenstein

“One writes to become someone other than who one is. There is an attempt at modifying one’s way of being through the act of writing, an effort to get free of oneself, to let go of oneself.”
-- Michel Foucault

I had the first treatment on Monday. It was nothing like the nightmarish tale on Sunday’s blog. Aside from the length of my stay (5/1/2 hours) it was quite comfortable. Before being escorted to a spacious room with a view of the trees through a window across the hall, I was given a tour of the kitchen area where patients can either bring their own food or help themselves to bagels and juice. Making myself at home on the remote controlled bed, I awaited the arrival of my prescription. The toxic concoctions were mixed at the infusion pharmacy located within the chemo center (they don’t call it that), after which a saline solution drip was started. Shortly thereafter, a small bag of medicine was brought in. After checking and rechecking to make sure my dose and I matched, the treatment regimen began. At 9:00 I was given two Benadryl capsules and two Tylenol tablets. I assume the anti-histamine was meant to counter any allergic reaction I might have to the Rituximab, typically a red flushing of the body followed by a constriction of the throat resulting in a gasping, inability to breathe. Of course this was relayed to me at the end of the day (as it should be) by Kee, a kindly, reassuring, upbeat infusion nurse who made me feel comfortable and at ease about taking the drugs. At 9:30 the nurse introduced a slow IV. The Rituximab therapy takes the longest, 2-4 hours depending on the rate of infusion, so, given the cautionary time allowed for any possible reaction, the first day always takes the longest. After making sure I could tolerate the stuff, they turned up the flow. Aside from taking a Benadryl-induced nap I felt no discomfort. I read, I cell phoned, I daydreamed and I waited for some vague, insidious feeling of being ill to creep over me. It never came. Because it was my first time, everything went fairly fast. Next came the C.H. and O. part. I was given two anti-nausea pills and two mild steroids, (I’m not sure why the steroids) before the next phase. The C. (Cyclophosphamide) and the O. (Vincristine) are delivered through two giant syringes directly through ports in the IV line, the nurse patiently administers each over the course of about five minutes. The H. (Doxorubicin) requires an infusion bag, which drips in over a 30 minute to an hour time period. One of these drugs gave my urine a reddish pink color, which was wholly un-alarming and passed before I left the treatment center. Before starting the C.H.O. phase, Kee said, “It’s all down hill from here, the Rituximab is the hardest part.” For me the first four hours had all been fairly uneventful, but it doesn’t take an Einstein to figure out the anti-nausea meds are given for a reason. Long story short, the last part never did bother me, and I was raring to get out and drive to the shores of Lake Superior in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Oh, about the P. (Prednisone), Prednisone is the steroid aspect of the regimen. On days 2 through 5 following the treatment, two tablets are given once a day.

What I had commonly heard was that one begins to feel a bit fatigued on day three. I’m still waiting. In fact, for whatever reason (maybe the steroids) the low-grade pain in my kidney area, the symptom that resulted in my first going in, subsided and I now feel better than I have in two months! Go figure. We left Ann Arbor at 4-ish last Monday and arrived in Big Bay, 30 miles northwest of Marquette, at 12:10 A.M. on Tuesday. It’s Thursday and I’m feeling fine. Knock on wood. I’ve been swimming a ½ mile in the big lake every day since I got here. This is a salubrious activity for two reasons: 1) it’s good exercise, and 2) if you can swim for an extended length of time in the cold waters of Lake Superior, you know you’re alive. Following the swim, as a rejuvenating Finnish health ritual, a session in a hot sauna followed by a dousing in the cold lake water is repeated 3 times. On the third repetition, cold water is thrown on the rocks, producing a tsunamic wave of heat so intense as to suspend the ability to breathe, and hence sends the sauna loving subject fleeing to the bosom of Mother Superior. An aside: some of you, kind friends, might wonder why I’m trying to carefully detail this. My intention is to relieve any dread or anxiety for those with Lymphoma who might visit this blog.

I suppose one would have to visit every place in the world to say which is the most beautiful, but Big Bay in late July and early August has to qualify. Maybe it’s the Milky Way swath night sky so clear it all but identifies the constellations with meteor shower captions. Or the sight of a blue, sky high humidity swirling haze that shrouds the shimmering iron cliffs that enclose the bays of Gitchee Gumee. At the mouth of the Salmon Trout, three eagles cruise the sands above Loon and Heron while two Black bears retreat to the woods on the approach of the kayaks. Looking south from the source of the Iron River at Lake Independence, the mountains sprawl across the horizon in cedar greens and pine blues. Walking east from the middle of Squaw Beach the cliffs on the opposite point gradually stretch and fade as the Huron Mountains majestically arise from the retreating cliffs. The sublimity of nature resists description. It’s much easier to describe a medical procedure than a sunset.

Tomorrow I fly to Detroit to play music. On Sunday I fly back. Me, my doctor, my circle of friends, and those closest to me have wondered about my being able to keep up with a fairly busy musical schedule while taking the treatment and dealing with the side-effects. So far, so good. Tomorrow I’ll go from the airport to a blood draw, home to Ann Arbor to load equipment, then west to the Chelsea Music Festival where FUBAR performs at 5 and George Bedard at 7:30. Peace my brothers and sisters!