When I see a friend now, or watch on television an annual event like the Kentucky Derby, I am well aware that it may be for the last time. Although we renewed our subscription to our box at Saratoga-- there is a years'-long waiting list for those boxes-- for the race meeting from late July through Labor Day, we have not rented a place to stay in Saratoga.
Since my first CAT scan after my second surgery detected tumors in my liver, it has been clear that any additional treatments that I might receive would be palliative, rather than curative. Thus, the stakes were lowered. From then on, whether a particular chemotherapy were efficacious or not would not be a matter of life or death. (Awaiting test results, cancer patients who are in remission or still have hope of cure have a much harder time than I do.)
As I look at alternatives-- given that any treatments that I might undergo would be merely palliative and my willingness to trade quantity for quality of remaining life-- the final treatment that may make any sense for me to endure in order to try to extend my life is FOLFOX, the chemotherapy protocol that I am currently following. Consequently, I am quite concerned about my ability to tolerate FOLFOX and about its efficacy for my cancer.
Dr. Saltz will not know whether FOLFOX is shrinking my tumors until my next CAT scan, which has not yet been scheduled. By contrast, throughout each day and much of most nights, I am acutely aware of symptoms of my body's rebellions to being poisoned by the FOLFOX cocktail. Other complications from the poisoning have to be ascertained by medical testing.
Yesterday, in spite of my dosage of FOLFOX having been reduced by 20 percent, a blood test indicated that my platelet level has once again plummeted-- a rare response to FOLFOX, according to the literature. If my platelet level does not rebound significantly by this coming Tuesday, the 18th of May, I think that the best for which I can hope is that my next infusion of FOLFOX will merely be delayed.
Meanwhile, I feel better today than I did yesterday. To avoid inconveniencing others, I am no longer scheduling social engagements. Nonetheless, I agreed on short notice to have lunch with a friend who is leaving town for the summer. Since that pleasant lunch-- at Raffaele, a neighborhood Italian restaurant-- I have felt even better. Moreover, I am having a fairly productive day. Though it is raining and unseasonably cold, I am joyful.
