City Boy

     Multiple myeloma (bone marrow) cancer gives rise to tumors and lesions that attack the bones from within and without.  Since there was evidence of these plasma cytomas and lytic lesions in the femurs, pelvis and lumbar area, among other body parts, an MRI was scheduled to look at the rest of my spine.  I brought up to some of my cancer buddies and partners in the treatment center that I was going in for this procedure; and Oh!, the moanings and groanings and gnashing of teeth on my behalf.
     "You'll hate it,"  they moaned.  "It's miserable," they groaned.  "Grrrrrrr," they gnashed.
     There is a litany of reasons that you don't want to do this, they rued.  (1) You have to lie absolutely still for 40 minutes!  Well now, I do that every day, sometimes twice a day, sometimes longer than that.  Where's the down side here?  (2)  It's cold in those rooms.  They give you a blanket.  (3)  It's claustrophobic.  Yes, I was in a narrow tube that was brightly lit and very close to my nose.  It felt like I was back in the schoolhouse and facing a snug and wraparound smart board.  However, normally when I am lying still for 40 minutes, my eyes are closed.  Easy fix!  (4)  The gurney is real skinny.  They got me on that one.  When you are nearing 70 and not nearly as aerobic and get a little broad in the beam, you have to tuck your hands under your "bum" to fit them on the table.  (5)  And, it is really noisy.  They put head phones on you to reduce the racket a bit, but it still can drive you crazy, like being on the loudest street in the loudest city with construction and banging and clattering and all manner of aural assault.
     Construction, you say?  Really?  Town sounds, you say?  Cars and trucks and things that go?  Who put a penny on the track at the Durango and Silverton Railroad?  Who stops and salivates at every crane or derrick or Peterbilt or super-concrete-extruder sidewalk and curb maker?  Who sat for hours at the Sault Saint Marie locks and watched the tankers descend from Lake Superior to Lake Huron?  What school principal stood along the security fence with all the 7th grade boys and watched the D-6 Cats tear up the fields when we renovated the sports facilities at Los Angeles Baptist Junior & Senior High School?  Who stood behind the Christmas tree starting lights at the Winternationals and heard the roar and felt the ground shake as the Double-A Fuel Altereds burned their slicks and tore off down the quarter mile stretch?  What bookish former educator thrives on the vicarious thrill that is the cacophony of the builders and the doers?  And when you are supine and still and have your eyes closed, you can hear them all the better.  Music is in the ear of the beholder. 

Nacknacknacknacknacknacknack!
     A guy working his rotator cuffs on the jackhammer.      
Bdddddddddddddd!
     Uh Oh!  A bank robber with a submachine gun.
A-whoosh A-whoosh A-whoosh!
     Oil rig!  Rocker assembly, like a big bird steadily sipping.
Hmmmm Hmmmm Hmmmm Hmmmm!
     Big rigs on the street. 
Whrrrr! Whrrrr! Whrrr!
     Tire place, pneumatic hammers driving lug nuts.
Clank-Clank-Clank-Clank-Clank!
     Circus elephants rythmically pounding tent stakes.
    
Other sounds of the city!  Repeats!  Reverse Order!  A satisfying syncopation!

Suddenly it  stops; the silence is startling.  Exit the tube.  Oscar removes the head phones and my blanket and offers me a hand, to get up.  "You do all right?"  he asks.  "No problem, except for (6) the co-pay."

However, it is not what it costs, but what it's worth.  A week later we meet with the oncologist and he shows us the picture, and there in almost every "vert" is a lesion.  He shakes his head and says the we were fortunate to get on this as soon as we did, because a delay of even a month or six weeks could have resulted in many compression fractures in the spinal column; but each "vert" is perfectly square, and the spaces are normal.  Count my blessings!  There was a perfect storm of heads-up play on the part of many medical professionals, both inside and outside of Kaiser Care, in a two-week period in the middle of June; and their sense of urgency and genuine concern were greatly responsible for the timely diagnosis and prompt treatment regimens which I am now enjoying.  So here is a shout-out to some thoroughly on-the-ball care givers:  Dr. Walter Burstein (primary care doctor, Simi Valley Kaiser clinic), Dr. Ted Chaffee (dentist, Simi Valley), Dr. Jonathan Nakano (oral surgeon, Thousand Oaks), Dr. Teresa Pusheck (ENT, Kaiser Woodland Hills), Dr. Robert Relle (maxillofacial surgeon, Kaiser Sunset), Dr. Warren Lok (oncologist/hematologist, Kaiser Woodland Hills), Dr. James Berenson (oncologist, Beverly Hills), Dr. Gary Schwartz (head of the Oncology Department at Kaiser Woodland Hills, who is managing my care), and of course Dr. Linda Bosserman, the managing partner at Wilshire Oncology Medical Group, who is also my dear sister-in-law, and who told me on June 18th that it was probably 85/15 that it was multiple myeloma.  Thanks all!  And while I am at it, kudos and deep appreciation to the nursing and support staff in the Oncology Treatment Center at Kaiser Woodland Hills, so caring.  It may seem really strange to read this, but I look forward to my treatment days.

Finally, the treatments are going well.  In just one month there has already been a dramatic reduction in the rib pain that bothered me for so long; it has been many days since my last vicodin.  Plus there are still no sinister or pernicious side effects.  Thanks be to those wonderful helpers above, and praise be to God for His tender merices.



                  
     
    
                

Entry #1: Welcome

Dear Family and Friends,

The motivation to join the digital age comes from my recent diagnosis with "multiple myeloma" cancer, also known as cancer of the bone marrow.  The "multiple" part indicates that it appears in more than one location.  So we launch this in order to answer concerns and questions about my treatment; respond to the many expressions of love, support and prayer that have come our way; and to give Liza something of a break from being the constant bearer of news and updates.

There is no good time to have this particular cancer; but there is a better time, and it is now.  Now, compared to ten years ago when they would have patted me on the back and sent me straight to palliative care and offered me serious pain killers.  The advancements in pharmacological research, the progress in cellular biology, and the ability to see and manipulate ever smaller structures of matter have all led to some astounding drug protocols.  Think of the droid or iPhone in your hand.  You hold more memory and more computing power that a roomful of computers a generation ago.  Similarly, medical technology has gone deeper into the nature of proteins and DNA, studying ever smaller particles and enzymes.  So the current generation of "chemo" drugs are able more accurately to pinpoint the B-lymphocytes and other runaway white blood cells and attack them, without as much damage to the patient as was so often the case in the past.

So the good news is that there is great hope for remission of this cancer.  Treatments started three weeks ago, and currently they are administering a recipe of four powerful drugs, all taken intravenously.  Two are late model "chemo's" which in numerous clinical trials have resulted in greater success rates when used in tandem rather than alone.  The third is a steroid which will help healing and strengthen tissue and also attack certain lethal proteins in myeloma cancer.  Therefore, I expect to be totally buffed out and capable of hitting my drives over 275 yards.  The fourth drug is for bone repair.  In time they will add an oral cancer-fighter which my oncologist says, "You will be taking for years to come."  No, they do not say "cure" or "healing," but the operant word is "treatable," with great hope for a long and busy life, probably dying from some other bullet.

Also, thanks be to God, there have been so far no sinister side effects.  No doubt that is helped by the ingestion of three additional medications taken just for that purpose.  The most notable side effect is exhaustion.  Fortunately there are naps -- a fine Piatt family tradition.  Frankly, I am fortunate to be able to tolerate all these chemicals.

In addition to the medical and physical report, there is the spiritual report; and in that regard it is even better news.  More prayer.  More Bible.  More time with God.   To use a social networking metaphor, the Lord and I are BFF's.

There will be additional reports about some poignant and funny things that have come up in treatment.  These will be listed under the heading "The Little C."  You will also find in the weeks to come some other writings about family, friends, and former students.  There will also be a section called "Devotions."  You'll see.

Thanks for checking in.  Thanks especially to Liza -- prayer buddy, medical advocate, record keeper and cheerleader.  Thanks also to many who have written, emailed and called with good wishes.

It says in Philippians that we are to be "anxious for nothing."  (Philippians 4:6-7).  That is really an astounding promise of Scripture, that we can cast our cares on Him and be free of worry even in tough and painful circumstances.  To wit, my most recent BP is 104/66.

Next time!  Tim

Liza and Tim at Annie's wedding, Boulder, Colorado, June 2011