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Fair warning! This is about me. It may
have no universal appeal and or applicability to anybody but me and the
limited number of people who harbor some normal or abnormal interest in me.
So pause a minute and consider whether you want to waste any more of your
time. And then step smartly, onward or backward. Your choice. Perhaps one
day I’ll be able to write something else with wider appeal. Or not!
Most folks have now heard on the street that I’ve been seeing a number of
doctors both here and in Savannah lately This is true! And they’ve been some
of the finest medical experiences I’ve ever had. Make no mistake about that.
Every doctor and medical professional I’ve seen both here and in Savannah
have been highly professional and competent and caring people. This is why I
want to interject this here:
My friend from down in Kingsland and I often make jokes in public about our
miseries and our visits to the doctors and tell funnies about how popular
our Medicare cards have made us. We're just trying to be cute and funny.
Gives us some distinction we so sorely lack. But let me make it clear that
nothing about these lighthearted moments have ever been said with genuine
malice. We do have major problems in the health care field in the United
States, but it’s still probably better than anywhere else in the world and
my personal sentiments about all those who work in the field can be summed
up this way: GOD BLESS THEM EVERYONE! I’ve never encountered but one or two
who didn’t genuinely didn’t give a s**t about me, and I quickly fired them
and moved on to somebody else. Those with whom I’ve been dealing for the
past many years are the best. So I wanted to get that out of the way. Excuse
the digression.
Now for my abbreviated story.
On March 16, 2009, I went up to see my cardiologist in Savannah to have a
nuclear scan and general follow-up. This physician has been following me for
many years. I’ve had coronary artery disease (CAD) for years. I had
open-heart surgery in 1981. Later I had an abdominal aortic artery (AAA)
aneurysm repair and had some ablation surgery to control some atrial
fibrillation I was having. Long story short, I got a glowing report from
this visit in March and was feeling real good about myself. Came home and
was fired up to get into something to keep me more occupied.
So I returned to the YMCA’s health club where I’ve had a grossly under
utilized membership for years and started getting back into an exercise
routine. Worked myself up pretty good in a short period of time, about 10
days. Then I thought I was ready to go, push it a little harder. Again,
feeling good about things, and contemplating living to 100. But I had
developed some shortness of breath and was hurting some in the lower back,
left hip and left upper thigh. Wrote it off to these insane thoughts about
renewing my workouts. You know how bad you are to lie to yourself sometimes!
Then on Sunday, March 26, 2009 I woke up early. It was Sunday. Noticed some
severe edema (swelling, fluid retention) in feet and lower legs and was very
short of breath. Thought it must be Congestive Heart Failure (CHF), but
where would that have come from? Cardiac output had been surprisingly good
on the 16th. Then I developed a severe cough and thought I had caught
something in that filthy, stinking motel where we had stayed on the trip to
Savannah. In point of fact, I'm persuaded I did. It was truly a rotten motel
I'm telling you! Subsequent blood tests have confirmed some pulmonary funk
described as ‘LEGIONELLA‘? Jesus! Legionaries’ disease? From a motel in
Savannah? Could be. But nobody knows for sure.
All I know is the place stunk to high heaven and was unbelievably dirty and
gummy and it was ice cold and you couldn't turn off the air conditioner. And
on top of that I had abnormal traces of pigeon and bird poop and mixed
feathers and cladosporium herb arum and trichoderma viride and other funks
in that lab report. And I got the report in case somebody wants to see it!
Anyway, I kept going to the YMCA. I worked pretty hard through April. Lost a
bunch of the fluid: from 240 pounds down to 218 pounds. Was committed to
healing thyself sort of thing. But things kept getting worse, especially the
pain in the left hip and leg. Cough got better, etc., etc. but by the time
my regular appointment came up on May 5, I confessed all my sins to my
primary care physician, Dr. Pauline Bellecci, one of the finest of the
finest, folks. Believe me. She has confirmed my long held belief that if
you’re looking for an ‘offer you can’t refuse’ put a little Sicilian doctor
on it! She swung into action after ripping me apart for not calling and
coming in earlier. Told her I thought I could heal myself. Said she,
“right!” And then placed the severed horse’s head on the gurney with me!
Long story short, the ensuing chest x-ray looked funky. But look, my chest
x-rays have looked funky for 7 to 8 years and I’ve been through this before.
Back in 2002 we chased a funky looking chest x-ray all the way trough a
bronchoscope and biopsies. Found nothing. My cardiologist’s brother, a lung
specialist in Savannah, followed me for this for about two years and a
couple of additional CT scans. Nothing ever changed, so he released me to be
followed prn (as needed). Looked as though it was an old pulmonary
infiltrate infection scar or something. It wasn’t changing and “cancer
doesn’t just sit around unchanging for several years.”
Well, I needed him again after this funky chest x-ray. In fact, we all knew
from that that anytime I had a chest x-ray in the future alarm bells were
going to go off. And they did! Nobody was surprised, at least not those who
knew my history, but it had to be checked out don’t you know?
Anyway, Dr. Daly has all but gone to specializing in other pulmonary
disorders in his practice and left this kind of stuff up to his partners. In
fact, he’s traveling from Savannah all over South Georgia now, including
Douglas and Waycross doing the sleep apnea thing and bringing a rare service
to the folks in these parts. Not many of these specialists around in our
area outside of Jacksonville and Savannah, so he’s a godsend for folks with
sleep disorders and the like. Anyway, since I was an old patient of his and
his brother’s heart patient, but mostly because he holds Dr. Bellecci in
such high regard, he agreed to see me and he did in Douglas on May 12, 2009.
Let’s push this through now. I had another bronchoscope and biopsies. Dr.
Daly’s colleague, Dr. Mullins, did it this time, on May 18, 2009 and their
pathologist did the slides. Everything looked good except one nasty slide.
The pathology on it read: “… malignant tumor cells present consistent with
non-small cell carcinoma.” One slide out of seven. One! Damn! All of this
brought on more scans: TB check, x-rays, CT scans, bone scans, sputum
cultures, MRI, blood work, and more blood work. Later scans revealed a
shadow on the L4 vertebrae and the general opinion this was the source of
the hip and leg pain -- something pushing on the nerve endings. This got
much better after awhile, incidentally, and has been reduced to a chronic,
dull low back pain at the moment, but the chase was on! A PET scan was more
than justified now. I had that Tuesday, May 26, 2009. Results came back the
next day, today, May 27, 2009. I had meetings with Dr. Daly and Dr. Singh,
local oncologist today. (Singh, incidentally, I had seen once already and he
is the one who set up the PET scan; and by the way, Dr. Singh made one of
the finest first impressions on me of any first time meeting I’ve ever had
with a physician in all my life. He told me if a PET scan lights up, it’s
bad. If it’s dark, it’s good. I prayed for a “lights out.” It didn’t turn
out that way.)
Long story shortened here, but it needs to stop. It’s pretty certain that I
have lung cancer. It is probably Stage 4, meaning that it has metastasized,
probably to the L4 vertebrae and maybe elsewhere. We’re not absolutely
positive yet. There’s a lot of so-called ‘staging’ to do yet. We’re going to
get a biopsy of the L4. If it were to not be malignant that would be good
news and we would probably just remove the small tumor in the upper lobe of
the right lung, count our blessings and call myself lucky. If it is
malignant, I’m probably looking at chemotherapy with unknown results.
There’s still a lot of mystery hovering around the Big C, folks. And lots
and lots of money. God, I wish somebody would find a cure. I’ve lost so many
family members and friends to this god-awful disease. And so have you, I’m
sure.
Which brings me to my closing, which perhaps represents the universal note,
if any, with some applicability to everybody: you are born and then you die
-- it is inevitable! We’ll talk more later, I hope!
If you wish to follow David's progress in own blog, use
this link.
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