My First Onco Meeting

My sister must have really pulled some strings for me because now I am the patient of Dr. Stephen Petersdorf of Seattle Cancer Care Alliance; the treatment center for Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research and the primary oncologist for Paul -freakin- Allen! Yes, that's right, Co-founder of Microsoft and Hodgkin's and non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma survivor. Pretty sweet, huh?

Anyway, I had my first oncology appointment at Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center (Seattle Cancer Care Alliance). I awoke that morning at 5:30am for an 8:30am check-in time. I am staying with my parents and Fred Hutch is about an hour away. Seattle morning traffic is like hell on earth, but we breezed through the highway without a hitch; a few bottle necks with traffic but all was well. We reached Fred Hutch 10 minutes before my appointment time, so we were rushing to find a place to park. (Driving David's car is like driving a boat, so finding the perfect spot can be daunting!) I check in at the front desk, I'm screened for cold/flu symptoms and then given orders to go to the 4th floor. I filled out papers, about whoknowswhat because I was so nervous, and waited for my name to be called. It only took them about five minutes until they called me back. I was escorted through a hallway lined with what looked like Smith professors' offices and taken into the typical examination room. The nurse took some baseline information, such as my blood pressure and heart rate (which was through the roof because I was nervous), temperature and basic medical history. Soon after, I met with the Fellow that works with my primary oncologist, Dr. Mary Philips. She asked me about how I discovered the lump, about any symptoms which I had been having (which were pretty much nil) etc. After the questionnaire, she took the list of questions from my trembling hand and said that she and Dr. Petersdorf, my primary oncologist (who is so good that celebrities see him for their cancer care. Did I mention that my doc is the oncologist for Paul Allen, co-founder of Microsoft??), were going to examine my scans quickly and look at my questions and then come back and discuss specifics. We waited approximately 30 minutes and David was getting all jittery and bored, so he was goofing around with surgical masks and telling corny jokes the whole time we were waiting. It helped keep my mind off of everything.
When they came back, they explained that they would require one more test to complete my staging. Staging refers to the extent of the cancer's spread throughout the body, though they were confident that it was limited to a specific area in my chest based on some of my other scans and blood work. They look at how far it has spread throughout the body using a PET scan and then they give you a level 1-4; 1 being early and 4 being late stage. Stages 1 and 2 are favorable, whereas 3 and 4 are less favorable and harder to treat. Their initial feelings were that I was at Stage 2, simply because of how large the mass was in my chest as well as the lack of spread to my spleen and liver and other lymph nodes. The PET scan will confirm and solidify their hypothesis.
Then we talked about treatment (dundun dunnnnnn...!). I will be receiving chemotherapy and possibly radiation at the end of my chemotherapy cycle. I will be receiving a drug regimen called ABVD. It is a combination of four drugs that are designed to kill cells that are fast multipliers; sadly this includes white blood cells, hair, nails, eyelashes etc and, of course, cancer cells. In order to receive chemo, a device referred to as a "port-a-cath", will be surgically inserted into the area just underneath my collarbone. Being a cancer patient means getting pricked with needles ALL THE FREAKING TIME. A port reduces the pain and discomfort associated with repetitive vein access as well as delivering the chemotherapy drugs (and any other drugs that I may need later) directly into the blood stream. The port has a long catheter (tubing) that accesses the artery in my heart. This reduces the scarring of the veins typically used for an IV because chemo drugs are so harsh that they can cause irreparable damage. It also takes much longer via IV to get chemo than with the port. Here is more info on the port if you want to know more, but I admit it is a little gruesome. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Port_(medical)

My port will be inserted on December 16th and I will be getting my first chemo treatment on the same day (UGH). At least it'll be done when I'm on so many drugs that I won't know what is going on. :) I will be getting 4-6 cycles (2 chemo treatments per cycle) total, which should take me about 6 months if all goes well. Depending on how I respond to chemo, I may or may not need radiation. They're worried about doing radiation so close to my heart and breast (because of family history of breast cancer).

Soooo, it looks like I'm going to have to do away with my hair before I start. I hear that people often lose their hair soon after their first treatment of ABVD. I'm going to shave my head a couple of days before that. I'm going to take a lot of pictures, especially when I'm rockin' the mohawk for a couple of minutes.

Anyway, the facilities were new, clean, and pleasant. The people were genuine and caring; very different from what I had expected. I feel pretty confident that this is the place for me.