It has been slightly over one year since my diagnosis, and I am in my twelfth month of chemotherapy infusions. I find it fitting that this timing coincides with Lung Cancer Awareness Month. To celebrate, or honor, or whatever you do for these types of anniversaries or milestones, I have decided to take a look at the previous year in pictures. This isn’t so much a vanity issue, though you will notice that the pictures are basically just of me, usually smiling and trying to look presentable; the greater point of the images is to watch the progression (or, occasionally, lack of it) in my appearance from infusion to infusion.
In November of 2014, I received my diagnosis after several months of feeling ill (for mostly unrelated issues) and having little or no energy or stamina. Ironically, when the testing and scanning began in earnest in September, I had begun to incrementally improve. Every time I was irradiated for a glance within, I left the imaging center feeling better. My breath had been quiet short in August and September, but by October I was noticing an improvement — a small improvement, but enough of one to give me the notion that I was “getting better” from whatever was ailing me. Still, I wasn’t in the best of shape, and I had been spending the previous months worrying progressively more about just what could be going on in my lungs. I had spent more time doing research on the Internet than I probably spent in the college library system during my entire four-year stretch. (Okay, not just probably; I did not take advantage of the old stacks the way I should have, and that remains one of my biggest regrets about those college years — funny the things we grow nostalgic for as we “mature.”)
By the time my diagnosis was presented to me, I was relieved just to know what I was dealing with. Everything I had gone through up to that point, the multiple scans, the blood tests, the pulmonary tests, the blood tests, the bone marrow biopsy from my hip, the numerous consultations and, of course, the blood tests had all lead me to that moment. It was clear: I had Stage IV Adenocarcinoma, an inoperable, metastatic lung cancer. The worrying could finally stop.
My sigh of relief, quite audible, I dare say, felt terribly good. Worry is one of those things that serves no one, yet we compound it upon ourselves with an insane level of frequency. It lingers when there is nothing to be done about it. After all, worry begets worry when we have a situation with no understanding of how to resolve it, our minds spinning over the multitude of ways in which things could go terribly wrong, plotting escape plans for worst case scenarios. I am not a big worrier most of the time. In fact, I have tried to teach myself how to postpone my emotional response until I have collected enough facts to truly understand any given situation. And I was good about this at the start of the process. But over time, examining all the options and narrowing them down bit by bit, I was being left with more and more confusion. Confusion leads to worry. But a definite, clear diagnosis — that lead to an actionable plan.
These pictures chronicle that plan. From the point where I was simply adrift in the land of tests and scans, wondering what was causing my problems, to the second biopsy that narrowed down my treatment options, and through a year’s worth of infusions. While I won’t say it has been the easiest year, and I don’t love either the fact that I have cancer or the side-effects of chemotherapy, I can still speak honestly of my gratitude for all the good fortune I have experienced during this time. I hope some of that gratitude shows in these images.
Happy lung cancer awareness month!
My first CT scan machine from October 12, 2014.Even the bathroom warned me about being radioactiveAbout to get my PET scan, juiced up on Gamma Radiation on October 24th, 2014October 2014 — Feeling better than I had been, still excited about finding out what was going on inside.This is a nice, quiet glass booth where I had my lung capacity measured.Inside the booth, where breathing into tubes would reveal that I had something like 85% lung capacity.November 10, 2014: I got to lie in this MRI machine for a bit. Super relaxing, if you like that sort of thing.And those quaint little images are the MRI’s way of saying, “Hey, no tumor in the brain!” Which was good news.It’s official, you’ve got cancer! In the office for a consultation just a few days after the first biopsy confirmed that I had adenocarcinoma. Yes, I was getting a lot of mileage out of that shirt.Sneaking in a sexy topless shot during my EKG test. Results showed that I had a good ticker, which was great because then I could proceed with the chemotherapy! Yay!November 13, 2014: More forms, more tests…Officially checked into the system.November 14, 2014: Getting ready for my lymph node biopsy. And showing off my fine gown.That tube is full of hot air, to heat the gown. This place had all the luxuries. They even gave me socks. And I got to keep that cool plastic bag.My awesome scar. From my awesome surgeon.December 10, 2014: My first day of chemotherapy. Classy accommodations.My first infusion in progress.December 23, 2014: Almost two weeks after my first infusion, I’m working a night shoot on a small production. And I’m thinking, hmmm… maybe this chemotherapy thing won’t break my stride…December 30, 2014: Second infusion. Still happy and excited about this whole chemotherapy thing!Also, I figured out that the chairs not only recline, but they offer a heated massage, too. This just keeps getting better.January 20, 2015: Showing off my latest connections during my third infusion.February 10, 2015: Waiting to get infusion #4 started.Comparing scans to see how the chemotherapy has been working. Tumor shrinking, lung expanding… at least a little.March 3, 2015: I like it so much, I’m back for more! And this time, I get the room with a bed… Too much work for napping.To be fair, I should include at least one photo where I look crappy. Three days after the infusion, I tended to look a little more like this. Also, I might have smelled bad, too. Hey, you asked. You didn’t? I’m sorry. I probably smelled okay…By May, this was how my arm was looking. Bruising a bit more, veins a little harder to see. But still finding plenty of places to stick those needles.By May, I was also getting a bit shaggy. At least I finally had some new glasses.Fortunately for me, I have an electric razor to trim my beard. And once in a while I comb my hair back. Who the heck was that crazy old guy from the previous picture? Kind of creepy, if you ask me.I am clearly not above the occasional inspirational bracelet.At the end of May, I was getting pledges for a Cystic Fibrosis fundraising walk. I think it was 3k, maybe 5k — either way, I was just glad to feel OK after completing it. Plus I loved the shirt.Interestingly, in June I happened to glance at my fingernails and realized that the chemotherapy had actually cleared them up. For as long as I could remember, my nails had been “cloudy” — now, they might be a bit more brittle and weak, but dang those nails are clear!Also in June, I finally got around to clipping back the vines over my garage and the hedge along the driveway. Notice my old glasses getting an appearance, too.Two days after trimming the vines and hedges, I was drinking radioactive sludge to prepare for another scan.June 29, 2015: prepped for the CT scan. The tube in my arm would be used for a “contrast” during the scan.July brings a new kitten to the family. The little fellow came with parasites, but we developed a mutually supportive relationship.Two weeks into my first July infusion cycle.July 27, 2015: Coffee and an infusion, the perfect summer combination!August 9, 2015: Taking it to the beach. Nothing like an ocean breeze to make you forget mild neuropathy.August 25, 2015: Another beach! Because, August and beach.September 2, 2015: South Lake Tahoe. In spite of the drastically higher elevation and correspondingly thinner oxygen levels, it felt absolutely great to breathe the clean, smog-free air.Yeah, I parked up there. Maybe YOU are used to walking that far from the parking lot, but for me it was a pretty big hike. And yes, I did have to rest a couple of times on the way back up.September 28, 2015: Another infusion, plugged back into my hand so no typing during the session. Fortunately, by now the sessions are too short to get much accomplished anyway.November 9, 2015: Chemotherapy commemorating a year (and two days or so) since my diagnosis.November 8, 2015: Shine a Light on Lung Cancer. This was one day before the last infusion. But I thought it was a better image to end with.
That about wraps it up for the “year in pictures.” My last year has been quite the ride and I am glad to have the opportunity to share it with you. My hope is that by sharing my experience, we can work together to help de-stigmatize lung cancer and show it in a different light. There is hope and happiness in every day, and chemotherapy has definitely been my friend (even when it wasn’t always acting like it — some relationships just need a little more effort to work through).
