Sunday, August 31, 2008

Fun With Web Reading

Been doing a lot of reading lately, mostly on the web, and have been encountering stuff like this fairly regularly:


"The cancer research arena has reached a sorry state of affairs. The tiniest increase in the survival time or median time to progression of drug-treated cancer patients is touted as a cure.

One example is the clinical reality for metastatic colorectal cancer. The FDA-approved combination regimen of irinotecan, bolus fluorouracil, and leucovorin (IFL) plus Avastin increases median overall survival by 4.7 months.

This small increase comes with a host of side effects, which impinge upon the quality of life, as well as placing a burden on the patient, as well as the healthcare system.

The clinical reality is that there is no cure for metastatic colorectal cancer. The much-vaunted blockbuster drug Avastin is simply an antibody supplement incorporated into an already complex chemotherapeutic drug regimen that may slow down the cancer process depending on the genetic constitution of that individual.

The clinical reality for metastatic breast cancer is similar. The treatment with Herceptin followed by lapatinib and capecitabine only increase the median time to progression from 4.4 to 8.4 months. Furthermore, 70% of patients do not respond to Herceptin, and resistance develops in virtually all patients.

The sobering fact remains, both advance diseases remain incurable, which contrasts with the glowing reports on Avastin and Herceptin emanating from the financial and tabloid media.

What are the responses of government agencies and academic institutions to this clinical reality? Yes, progress is slow, it's a complex problem, but we are moving in the right direction.

If billions of dollars are poured into DNA sequencing of primary tumors, then we hope to find the critical mutations that cause cancer and then make drugs so that each patient can have a unique treatment.

The major problem with this is the primary tumor is so heterogeneous that each cell within it is likely to have a unique genomic signature at the level of mutations, as well as at the level of gross genomic imbalances and methylation signatures.

And the cells that will be dangerous to the health of the patient and depart to other organs make up only a minute fraction of the tumor. They are also genomically different to the cells in the primary tumor.

Which of the millions of mutations, methylation changes, and gemomic imbalances are in the cells that leave the primary tumor? This cannot be ascertained by bioinformatic and statistical methods. It involves isolating the cells that depart.

Also, which of the genomic alterations that are in the departing cells will be instrumental in the process of subsequent metastatic growth? Most of the cells that lease home don't survive the journey in the blood or lymph systems, and many cancerous cells that eventually do lodge in a distant organ simply remain dormant.

It would seem more prudent to invest in the development of diagnostic technologies for detecting cancer growths, as well as the properties of cells that are destined to metastasize.

When the front-line treatment for solid tumors is still chemotherapy (cytotoxic or targeted) and radiation, and the best that blockbuster drugs can achieve is to prolong the inevitable by either a few months or not at all, then it's surely time to stop the delusion.

Personalized cancer cures are not just around the corner and carte blanche DNA sequencing will produce just that - carte blanche. Is the future of cancer medicine one in which doctors become financial advisors, telling their patients whether they can or cannot afford expensive treatments of dubious survival value?

The solution is to get back to using old fashion human brainpower to develop noninvasive screening technologies for detecting the earliest possible cancerous growths. Resources and intellectual horsepower need to flow into areas that have clinical impact.

Source: George L. Gabor Miklos, Ph.D., Philip J. Baird, M.D., Ph.d., "Curing Cancer: Running on Vapor," May 1, 2007 edition of Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology News."

Sad truth is that I probably should be researching hospice for those with no money, rather than chemo with no money.

I've been down all day. Just can't get going. If I were rating negative on a scale of 10, I would go for at least an 8, and I hate that. But truth is truth.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Oh who the fuck cares? Too many ...

I hate the American media.
Sitting here watching Obama give his acceptance speech, or trying to. Keep getting sidetracked. Now I'm wondering if I'll even be around on January 20th (my beloved grandfather, Mott died on that date), when the new president, Obama or McCain is sworn in. That's all I can think about. I'm self-obsessed. I guess cancer does that to you.

No, well, I'm worried about my mother. She is so tired and has been through so much, and now she's got me to worry about. I made her say yes to going to see Dr. Lovering tomorrow, and I will drive her myself if I have to. Dr. Fuller, the surgeon, whom I also saw yesterday, told me I could drive short distances if my "mind is clear" (that's a loaded question of late; someday I'll tell that story). Basically he was referring to the confusion and hallucinations I suffered in the 9 days in the hospital. I guess. Anyway, I'll drive her if I have to. She needs care. So much to worry about, so little time ....

Oh, now Obama on national health care. I've never really believed his heart was into that issue. I hope it is, and I hope it happens, but I don't see how we can pay for it. We're trillions of dollars in debt! One thing I know: I won't benefit from it. If it ever happens, I'll be ashes in an urn lying at my parents' feet, my soul maybe flying around a heaven with all those I love who have gone before me (gad, I'm really an agnostic ... shudder). Or I'll just be nothing, a pile of ashes down there with the worms. Or, knowing me & my luck, I'll be one of those confused ghosts who can't figure out they're dead and/or can't find the light to walk into. I'll be like Vincent Schiavelli (I miss that guy) in "Ghost", all angry on the subway. If we had a subway.

But I won't benefit from universal health care. No, I'll be gone by then. I don't want to think about being "gone" ... What did George Carlin say? Something like, "but I won't have to die ... I'll 'pass away' ... or I'll 'expire', like a magazine subscription. Shit. I hate think about this. I'm a movie guy, so when I think of death the oddest image comes to me: Arnold Schwarzenegger as The Terminator being lowered into the iron in 'Terminator II', his hand up in goodbye, and then the screen just going black. Except I won't see the screen go black because my consciousness will be gone. Or will I? I have a videotape I've never watched, out of fear and superstition and obsession/compulsion or some such weird, freaky aspect of my nature .... a documentary miniseries that was on PBS or something a dozen years ago or so ... called "Death: The Trip Of A Lifetime". Maybe I should dig that out and watch it. Nah, not yet. There's still a battle to be fought. A battle with lousy odds but a battle nevertheless, and I have to try. I just have to. Like sending up your worst hitting pitcher as a pinch hitter, like somebody with an .050 average. But, hey, he has a CHANCE to come through! A lousy chance but a chance. So I'll sign off on that positive note. I have to try to stay positive. I have to. Positive. Positive. Spurn negativity. That dude, that Kyle Lohse, Cardinals (3 for 51 ; .059), has a CHANCE to sneak a single through that infield. You never know.

Peace.


A winters day
In a deep and dark december;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
Ive built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
Its laughter and its loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

Dont talk of love,
But Ive heard the words before;
Its sleeping in my memory.
I wont disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

Company

Famous people diagnosed with colorectal cancer

* Lynn Faulds Wood, former BBC Watchdog presenter, survived advanced bowel cancer and founded the charities Beating Bowel Cancer and Lynn's Bowel Cancer Campaign. [55]
* Tony Snow died July 12, 2008 at the age of 53. [4]
* Ruth Bader Ginsburg
* Tammy Faye Messner died July 20, 2007
* Audrey Hepburn died January 20, 1993 [5]
* H. P. Lovecraft, horror writer
* Harold Wilson [6]
* Pope John Paul II [7]
* Ronald Reagan [8]
* Elizabeth Montgomery, American Actress (died at age 62; died 8 weeks after being diagnosed with colon cancer. see [9])
* Charles Schulz, Creator of Peanuts (died at age 77; died 60 days after being diagnosed with colon cancer) [10].
* Lillian Board, British athlete
* Malcolm Marshall, Legendary West Indian and Hampshire Cricketer [11]
* Achille-Claude Debussy, Famous French composer [12]
* Bobby Moore, 1966 England World cup winning captain (died at age 51; died 2 years after being diagnosed with colon cancer) [13]
* Babe Didrikson Zaharias, Legendary American athlete [14]
* Joel Siegel, movie critic and Host of Good Morning America (died at age 64; died 10 years after being diagnosed with colon cancer)
* Eric Turner, second player taken in the 1991 NFL Draft
* Walter Matthau, American actor, had metastatic colon cancer, but died of heart disease on July 1, 2000, aged 79
* Vince Lombardi, legendary coach of the Green Bay Packers, died of metastatic colon cancer
* Rod Roddy, previous announcer for The Price Is Right (died at age 66; died 2 years after being diagnosed with colon cancer)
* George David Low, American aerospace executive and a former NASA astronaut; died 2008
* Corazon Aquino, Former president of the Philippines. [15]
* Jack Lemmon, American actor, died of colon cancer (and bladder cancer) on 27 June 2001, aged 76.
* Sharon Osbourne, British reality TV star and talent show judge, diagnosed with colon cancer in July 2002, aged 49. She is now 55, and is believed to have recovered

Not That I Particularly Like Tony Snow, But ...

... I didn't want him to DIE. Some interesting, and scary as hell, parallels:

June 1, 1955 – July 12, 2008 (almost same age, him 53, me 54)

"In February 2005, while still at Fox News, Snow was diagnosed with colon cancer. He returned to broadcasting in April 2005 after having surgery.[9][10] On March 23, 2007, after almost a year as press secretary, Snow once again recused himself from work to seek treatment for recurrent cancer.[11][12][13][14] Treatment for the spreading cancer continued to force periodic absences from his duties in his final few months as press secretary, his subsequent position as a CNN commentator, and his public speaking engagements.[15][16] In the early morning of July 12, 2008, Snow died at Georgetown University Hospital as a result of colon cancer that had spread to his liver.[17] Reacting to Snow's death, former President George H. W. Bush lauded what he felt was Snow's ability to bring "a certain civility to this very contentious job."[7]"

He only lasted 3 1/2 years and he had resources.
"Man's loneliness is but his fear of life." - Eugene O'Neill

A Rat


Ugly little devil, huh?

What Does It Matter?

From last night on (in which I slept well, thank God) and into this morning I'm in "what does it matter" mode. Quitter mode. Fuck it mode. I might stay that way if left to my own devices, but there is another to worry about.

But, really, what does it matter? All my life my luck has been laughably bad. Am I going to be one of the 20% who is cured of this disease at Stage IV? No. Am I going to be one the LESS than 5% alive after 5 years? No. (I found one web site last night that listed it at 8% ... alas, again, no) I'm not going to receive a spot of good luck now from God or the gods or fate or whomever. I'm dead. Pure and simple. Dead. Why bother to quit chain smoking Kools? Which I'm doing as I type this ...

I'll tell you what's going to happen, but first a tiny bit of background. In 1998 I was in pitiful shape after my best friend died. I had crawled inside a whiskey bottle and lived there. I almost died before reason and the loved one convinced (begged) me to go to alcohol rehab. When I got there, the doctor told me my liver was many times its normal size, down almost to my right leg. He told me if I hadn't come into rehab I would have had about a week, maybe 2 weeks to live. I was yellow with jaundice. I was damn near a barely walking drunken corpse. But I lived. And I quit drinking alcohol. I had a colonoscopy that summer. Clean. It was the last one I had, obviously (demonic laughter). After rehab, I was moved to the hospital proper because I had a rare allergic reaction to the anti-depressant Remeron. It lowered my white cell count to almost zero and I was in danger of dying from any germ or infection I encountered, as my body could not fight off infection without those white cells. But the white cells in my blood gradually went up, and I survived that, too. Now:

This is what's going to happen: either the liver that should have gone 10 years ago or a disease -- possible pneumonia, something fatal like that, one a fully functioning immune system should have routinely fought off, is going to get me this time as they should have in 1998. This is the way my life works, I know, in negative, teasing, cruel patterns. There is a trickster, a prankster at work here, and it has a design, a plan. It does.

My colon cancer has metastasized. Imagine the cancer cells are thousands upon thousands of ravenous rats. They were living in the tube of my colon, but after they ate the good cells they literally ate through the wall of my colon, swam into the lymphatic system which, like blood and veins, travels through the entire body. They were trapped but now they have clear transport system throughout my body. These rats are out and swimming and looking for a new organ (or organs) to wreck, because that's what they do. This is what Stage IV is: the rats are out and invading new organs. The part of my colon that originally housed this tumor of rats is on the lower right side of my abdomen. The appendix they chewed to shreds and made me scream with pain is on the right side of my abdomen. The nearest major organ to these original gnawings and tearings is: the LIVER. Oh, they might swim awhile and attack the lungs or the bladder or the stomach or something else, maybe combinations (they do that, little bastards), but I'm betting they go after the LIVER, because that's what should have gone a decade ago from the whiskey diet. That was a very close call, and fate will be avenged. Or the devil or God or whomever. Humbert Humbert (nasty guy but "Lolita" is a great book) called "him" McFate. I like that. McFate.

Or:

Should I somehow make it another 5 weeks without the rats invading another organ(s), or even if they do, and I somehow, with no money, get into some pauper's treatment program and get the chemotherapy which is my only chance ... the treatment I will be receiving is a combination of 3 drugs, collectively referred to as FOLFOX in the oncologist community (everybody has a community these days, huh). Now, one of the nasty little side effects of FOLFOX is a lowering of one's white cell count so that one is dangerously open to infection of any kind. So maybe McFate will have his revenge with my immune system and get me that way.

Either way, though, I'm fucked. Let's face it. I'm a dead man. Not a bad guy, just a sort of zero. I had so much promise, but blew it all. Oh, well. What does it matter now? I will be a blip on an obit page and then forgotten. I know I'm not alone, not claiming to be. There are plenty of us Eleanor Rigbyish people out there. I don't want a funeral. I don't want the embarassment of nobody coming. Don't believe in them, anyway. Cremate me and bury the ashes in the old family plot. A nice, very polite, nonaggressive guy who didn't have the balls to achieve anything in life. We happen. I did one horribly bad thing in my entire life (and some would say even that wasn't so bad): I crushed on and harassed a girl during her senior season of high school. But I took that senior year away from her. I didn't mean to scare her but I did. I robbed her, and that's bad enough. I'm responsible. But I really never had the courage or even the most minor of killer instincts to succeed. I quit a lot of things. Yes, I have always been plagued by depressions, and I was agorophobic and panic attack ridden and a lot of other bad things and bad luck but I'm not using those as an excuse. I simply never had the balls to succeed. I was afraid so I almost always torpedoed myself. Now I'm dying. Big deal. What does it matter?

I'm tired now. Later.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Whimsy

  • You were born on a Monday.
  • Your star sign is Gemini.
  • Your birthstone is Perl or Moonstone.
  • The season was Spring.
  • You were born in the Chinese year of the Horse.
  • The US President was Dwight D. Eisenhower (Republican).
  • The UK Prime Minister was Winston Churchill (Conservative).
  • You are 54 years 2 months 14 days old.
  • It is 290 days until your next birthday.
  • In dog years you are 7 years old.
  • You are 19,799 days old.
  • You are approximately 475,179 hours old.
  • You are approximately 1,710,644,610 seconds old.

Anger Room

I am really fucking ANGRY after hearing I have only a 20% chance of a cure, that I'm probably dying fast. I wish there were anger rooms where we could go and smash things until we're so tired we can't smash anymore. Get a golf club and just beat the shit out of lamps and furniture and walls and things. No punching bag will take care of this. I'm just mad, I don't know who at. God is so tempting to blame, but isn't he on every milk carton in Angryland?

I want to smash things. I want to destroy. I want to crush. I want to scream and cry and destroy. What do I do?

The Truth

http://www.cancer.org/docroot/ETO/content/ETO_5_3X_Broccoli.asp?sitearea=ETO

Mommy, That Man Has Stage IV Colon Cancer

I have colon cancer. I found out Wednesday, August 6. I went to the emergency room with abdominal pains and came out of SURGERY with a scalpel wound from my chest down to my crotch along with, soon thereafter, the knowledge that a significant amount of my colon had been removed on the right side of my gut (Bingo! Malignant Tumor Exorcism Time!), as well as my appendix (which was attacked without provocation by said Malignant Tumor), and I was in nasty, nasty shape. Things didn't look good.

Today they look even worse. Three weeks after the surgery, today, I went to see the oncologist (translation: CANCER specialist) and he informed me that my cancer has spread beyond the wall of my colon, a veritable sea of lymph nodes and cancer cells had been released and the nasty little CANCER fuckers are swimming around looking for another organ to invade, via the vast lymph node superhighway. And they may get away with it! I joke, but I am pissed off and very afraid today. I have Stage IV (4) COLON CANCER. In cancer staging terminology, Stage IV is the FINAL STAGE. My oncologist said there is but a 20% chance of a cure. LESS than 5% of Stage IV colon cancer patients survive 5 years. So unless a miracle is out there, I'm pretty much dead meat walking.

I don't even know how I feel about this yet. Sad, yes. Afraid, yes. Angry, yes. But a lot more. I'll try to work it out. This is where I will work out. I don't want your pity or anything else from you, whoever you are. This is going to be my place to work out, to get things out, to deal, to cope, to bitch, whatever.

Oh, and I DO NOT have HEALTH INSURANCE, and I need chemotherapy, which is $3,000-$4,000 PER TREATMENT, and I need a treatment every 2 weeks beginning in late September or early October. I could hit a hundred grand real quick with all the other charges and doctors and nurses and clinics and medicines. I have pretty much exactly zilch. I don't know what I'm going to do, I honestly don't. Things look pretty damn bleak right now, and that's an understatement.

I am 54 years old, I like Led Zeppelin and movies, and I may not reach 55 next June. What a dictionary definition of "sobering".

I knew a man once who found out he had cancer, and he drove out into an idyllic cow pasture and swallowed a gun. I always admired the courage of that. The purity of it.

But I'm not going to do that. I'm going to try to live, because I've discovered (and it WAS a surprise; you'd have to know me) I WANT to live, as long as possible. Plus I need to live as long as possible for someone I love. So if I have to be declared "indigent" and beg and plead on my knees, I'm going to get that CHEMO and shoot for that 20%. By God I am!

But here, I work out. For me. As long as I can. But I'm fucking sick of the subject of CANCER for this day at least.

So that's the name of that tune. (Baretta; Killed his wife and got away with it.)

The Complete Carlin Said

"About time for me to get a little drink of water. Figure this stuff is safe to drink? (audience screams "no!") Actually, I don't care if it's safe or not. You know why? Because I'm an American and I expect a little cancer in my food and water. That's right. I'm a loyal American and I'm not happy unless I've let government and industry poison me a little bit every day. Let me have a few hundred thousand carcinogens here. (drinks, swallows) Aaaaah!

A little cancer never hurt anybody. Everybody needs a little cancer, I think. It's good for you! Keeps you on your toes! Besides, I ain't afraid of cancer. I had broccoli for lunch. Broccoli kills cancer! A lot of people don't know that, it's not out yet. It's true!. You find out you got some cancer ... Get yourself a fucking bowl of broccoli. That'll wipe it right out in a day or two. Cauliflower, too. Cauliflower kills the really big cancers, the ones you can see through clothing from across the street. Broccoli kills the little ones, the ones that are slowly eating you away from inside ... While your goddamn goofy, half-educated doctor keeps telling you, "you're doing fine, Jim". In fact, bring your doctor a bowl of broccoli. He's probably got cancer, too. Probably picked it up from you.
They don't know what they're doing ... It's all guesswork in a white coat.

Here, let me have a few more sips of industrial waste. (drinks, swallows) Maybe, maybe I can turn them cancers against one another. That's what you got hope for, you know, that you get more than one cancer so they eat each other up instead of you! In fact, the way I look at it, the more cancer you got, the healthier you are."

-- George Carlin,"Parental Advisory Explicit Lyrics"