Neulasta, Zometa, and the Radiation Oncologist

Yesterday I went back to be administered my second round of Zometa, which is a drug that aids in bone "resorption". It is supposed to help my hip bone grow back faster. That was a 30 minute IV, then they stuck me with the Neulasta. Remember the Neulasta? That was the one last time that they squirted out $2,000 worth of juice before they injected me with it. Well, this time they didn't squirt out any, and they gave me the full dose. So, either they messed up this time or last time, and they couldn't figure it out after I brought it up to them and after they checked their documentation. Next time I see my oncologist I'll have to run it by him. Good thing my dad wasn't there, he is very protective. I just ask the nice nurses to investigate for me and I try not to get too pissed off, because life is just too short to spend it getting mad. Plus, not getting angry improves your quality of life by reducing your stress. And, being slow to anger is just a good quality. And, if I yelled at them it would do nothing, the shot was already circulating throughout my body, doing whatever extra damage it would do, and then the nurses would go back and spit in my next chemotherapy bag.

Today I had my first meeting with my radiation oncologist. He is the guy that will oversee the next phase of treatment, which is irradiating the sites of my tumors. Already, the PET/CT scans show that there is significant reduction in the cancerous sites; however, history and experience have shown the oncologists that a combination of chemotherapy and radiation in cases like mine typically brings out even greater likelihood of full cure of the original lymphoma. The problem is that the radiation to the hip will give me a 10% chance of getting an additional tumor as a result of the treatment. The other fun is that the radiation through my sternum and T8 would go through my heart and it would increase my chances of heart failure sometime down the road. I think he thinks those chances were low, let's say something like 2%. But let's break it down:

10% chance of additional tumor from radiation
2% chance of early heart problems from radiation
5% chance of leukemia from the chemotherapy
10% chance of sterility from chemotherapy and radiation

That is a total of 27% chances of long term things. Remember my 90% odds that it wasn't lymphoma? So, let's subtract 90% from 27%, then subtract the 80% chance of cure, so that puts us at -143% (assuming I did the math right in my chemo-brain). Yes, the numbers don't get crunched that way, but my point is that they are just numbers.

I shaved Matt's head today and people think we are twins and this one sweet lady in the pool today asked us if we were twins while we were swimming in the pool (12 laps, 2 days after chemo) and we said no and she asked us if we shaved our heads for the summer and I said, "no, I have cancer, and this is my 8-years-younger brother that shaved his head to be like me," and she said we are "beautiful," then slowly swam away making peaceful ripples upon the water.