When last we met, I was going to see thoracic surgeon Dr. Joseph Boyer, who might have to remove the growing growth attached to the esophagus he created from the excesses of my stomach.
Dr. Boyer said the PET scan's all-clear might be inconclusive because the CT scan showed this growth had pretty much quadrupled in size since the summer. He felt a biopsy was needed, and suggested Dr. William Mayoral, a partner of Dr. Philip Styne. Well, he said he could do it but the procedure "would hurt more" if he had to surgically obtain the biopsy. Further, Dr. Boyer said if Dr. Mayoral pulled the biopsy, he might be able to suction the entire soft-tissue growth from my body if it was comprised of fluid.
So, the docs got together and scheduled me for the biopsy on Friday -- Dr. Mayoral was going to grab the sample via an endoscopy with ultrasound to locate the growth outside the esophagus, then use a needle or some other small surgical device to obtain the sample.
He did this procedure and it went well. As I was waiting for the car to be pulled around at Orlando Regional Medical Center, Dr. Mayoral phoned me to say it appeared the tissue was not malignant.
Whew! This confirmed the PET scan's findings: I apparently don't have more cancer growing inside me.
So Monday, I saw Dr. Lee Zehngebot, the oncologist who along with a slew of other docs and medical professionals saved my life through chemistry. Dr. Z spoke to Dr. Mayoral, who confirmed that the tissue was negative for cancer. But he was concerned: "I don't know what it is," Dr. Z said. And that concerns him.
So his office is setting up another CT scan for two weeks from now to take another look at the growth to see if it has grown further since my last scan Dec. 7. After that, it's likely he'll want Dr. Boyer to remove the soft-tissue mass.
I asked Dr. Z what the worst-case scenario is. He said I could have cancer. But the pathology tested negative, I reminded him. He agreed, yet was concerned because it was such a mystery.
(I always like a good mystery, but somehow this one I'm not enjoying so much.)
So there will be more tests and scans -- possibly surgery -- and I presume isotopes flowing through my veins as the docs solve "The Case of the Soft-Tissue Mass," coming soon to a blog post near you.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Revisiting with Dr. Boyer
Since receiving the all-clear-sort-of from Dr. Lee Zehngebot last week, I made an appointment with Dr. Joseph Boyer, the surgeon who turned my cancerous esophagus and stomach into a stomach that acts like an esophagus.
I'll be at his new office across Orange Avenue from the main Florida Hospital Orlando building Wednesday morning. By then he and Dr. Z will have discussed the scans I've had last week and in August and maybe come up with a gameplan.
That's my hope, at least.
Meantime, I saw my new cardiologist, Dr. R. Charles Curry, who reiterated that whatever is causing my faux heart attacks, it's not the heart, it's not arteries feeding the hear and it likely is, as Dr. James Miner and Dr. Philip Styne explained, spasms of the arteries feeding the stomach and esophagus.
Still, no one is taking into account the cyst or whatever it is in my chest cavity and what role it may have in the attacks. Hopefully after Dr. Boyer works his magic, the attacks will go away.
I'll be at his new office across Orange Avenue from the main Florida Hospital Orlando building Wednesday morning. By then he and Dr. Z will have discussed the scans I've had last week and in August and maybe come up with a gameplan.
That's my hope, at least.
Meantime, I saw my new cardiologist, Dr. R. Charles Curry, who reiterated that whatever is causing my faux heart attacks, it's not the heart, it's not arteries feeding the hear and it likely is, as Dr. James Miner and Dr. Philip Styne explained, spasms of the arteries feeding the stomach and esophagus.
Still, no one is taking into account the cyst or whatever it is in my chest cavity and what role it may have in the attacks. Hopefully after Dr. Boyer works his magic, the attacks will go away.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
A negative that is totally positive
How many times in your life has a doctor called you at 8:15 at night? Not too often, right.
So it's a testament to Dr. Lee Zehngebot, the Orlando oncologist who helped save my life, that he called a short time ago to give me the abbreviated version of the results of my PET and CT scans taken Monday.
In short, he's "100 percent" confident that I have no cancer in me. The PET scan, which detects probable areas of the body in which cancer cells are growing, was negative.
Whew!
He said that the weird cyst-like confab in my chest, though, has grown since the last set of scans in August. While he's confident it's not a cancerous tumor growing, he's not sure exactly what it is.
Most likely, he said, it's "some kind of collection of fluid."
So Dr. Z said I should call surgeon Dr. Joseph Boyer in the morning to set up an appointment for next week. Dr. Boyer is the head of thoracic surgery at Florida Hospital, and the guy who cut and filleted my stomach and esophagus into a working organ from a cancerous one.
I imagine the next few weeks or months might involve a biopsy or two and possibly a surgery. But at least the doctors won't be treating a cancerous tumor.
And that's the best news this holiday season.
So it's a testament to Dr. Lee Zehngebot, the Orlando oncologist who helped save my life, that he called a short time ago to give me the abbreviated version of the results of my PET and CT scans taken Monday.
In short, he's "100 percent" confident that I have no cancer in me. The PET scan, which detects probable areas of the body in which cancer cells are growing, was negative.
Whew!
He said that the weird cyst-like confab in my chest, though, has grown since the last set of scans in August. While he's confident it's not a cancerous tumor growing, he's not sure exactly what it is.
Most likely, he said, it's "some kind of collection of fluid."
So Dr. Z said I should call surgeon Dr. Joseph Boyer in the morning to set up an appointment for next week. Dr. Boyer is the head of thoracic surgery at Florida Hospital, and the guy who cut and filleted my stomach and esophagus into a working organ from a cancerous one.
I imagine the next few weeks or months might involve a biopsy or two and possibly a surgery. But at least the doctors won't be treating a cancerous tumor.
And that's the best news this holiday season.
Monday, December 7, 2009
A day of testing
I'll be at the nuclear imaging building across Orange Avenue from Florida Hospital Orlando at 11:30 this morning for a PET scan, then a few hours later in the main campus for a CT scan.
This double-whammy dose of radiation hopefully will allow my doctors to complete a diagnosis begun in August and left undetermined until now.
Back then, a PET scan saw something.
What it was couldn't be determined. So they docs scheduled a PET scan.
The PET scan didn't quite notice the small mass in my abdomen that the CT did, but it found something very small in my lungs.
What it was couldn't be determined. So my docs did what all good docs do: They consulted other docs, and still others.
In the end, Dr. Lee Zehngebot, an extraordinary oncologist, consulted with Dr. Philip Styne, an extraordinary gastroenterologist. They both checked in with other internists, gastro docs, radiologists and the like.
The conclusion? Wait three months. As it turns, it's four, but who's counting?
This will give whatever is in me to either change or not change. The docs felt this was safer than "going in" and performing biopsies on the various spots they detected. The initial thingie in my abdomen is likely a cyst. Probably not dangerous, they thought but didn't know. I think it's the thing in my lung that drew the most concern.
So in less than a dozen hours I'll have radioactive glucose injected in me from something that looks as if it came out of a sci-fi movie and then will spend about an hour or two relaxing so my body can absorb said glucose. Then the scanning doohickey will determine which parts of my body, if any, absorb the glucose quicker than expected. If something does, it's possible that is a cancerous area, since cancer cells and very few others absorb glucose rapidly.
After all that's over, I will go across the street and drink an iodine-laced cocktail for the CT scan, which isn't nearly has complex.
By the end of the day, I'll be warned to stay away from pregnant women and small children for a day as a precaution. However, my eyes will be able to light up a dark road and my hands will glow in the dark. As for other exterior organs, well, we'll just have to keep that private.
A few days later, hopefully I'll get the all clear from Dr. Z. I don't want to get news about these tests in two weeks when I see him.
This double-whammy dose of radiation hopefully will allow my doctors to complete a diagnosis begun in August and left undetermined until now.
Back then, a PET scan saw something.
What it was couldn't be determined. So they docs scheduled a PET scan.
The PET scan didn't quite notice the small mass in my abdomen that the CT did, but it found something very small in my lungs.
What it was couldn't be determined. So my docs did what all good docs do: They consulted other docs, and still others.
In the end, Dr. Lee Zehngebot, an extraordinary oncologist, consulted with Dr. Philip Styne, an extraordinary gastroenterologist. They both checked in with other internists, gastro docs, radiologists and the like.
The conclusion? Wait three months. As it turns, it's four, but who's counting?
This will give whatever is in me to either change or not change. The docs felt this was safer than "going in" and performing biopsies on the various spots they detected. The initial thingie in my abdomen is likely a cyst. Probably not dangerous, they thought but didn't know. I think it's the thing in my lung that drew the most concern.
So in less than a dozen hours I'll have radioactive glucose injected in me from something that looks as if it came out of a sci-fi movie and then will spend about an hour or two relaxing so my body can absorb said glucose. Then the scanning doohickey will determine which parts of my body, if any, absorb the glucose quicker than expected. If something does, it's possible that is a cancerous area, since cancer cells and very few others absorb glucose rapidly.
After all that's over, I will go across the street and drink an iodine-laced cocktail for the CT scan, which isn't nearly has complex.
By the end of the day, I'll be warned to stay away from pregnant women and small children for a day as a precaution. However, my eyes will be able to light up a dark road and my hands will glow in the dark. As for other exterior organs, well, we'll just have to keep that private.
A few days later, hopefully I'll get the all clear from Dr. Z. I don't want to get news about these tests in two weeks when I see him.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Thanksgiving for me: Two years ago, I was not sure this day would arrive
It's amazing how the future looks.
Two years ago I was not certain my future would include today, Thanksgiving 2009, or my birthday a couple of days later.
In my mind, the future looks like today.
Two years ago, I'd just been removed from my 24/7 chemo pump and was preparing -- as I am now -- for tests on Dec. 7. I was thankful then for my doctors, my family, my friends and for life.
Still, I remember telling my cousin David Spitz, the popular Connecticut chiropractor, that I feared I would not make it to age 50. I was panicked, often tearful. But 50 became a goal. At the time, it seemed distant, remote, unattainable.
Today, it's a bit closer -- just a few days away.
So on this Thanksgiving, I feel truly blessed with that family, those friends, my wonderful doctors, their wonderful staffs, and the knowledge that I've reached another milestone, another goal on the road to recovery from esophageal cancer.
And as a way of paying it forward, I'll reiterate as I have probably too often in this blog: If you get heartburn, if you have acid reflux or even if you take a few Tums or Rolaids every day, you could get cancer. See a doctor, have an endoscopy, consult your family doctor or gastroenterologist.
Heartburn and acid reflux could lead to Barrett's Esophagus, a precursor to esophageal cancer. There are treatments at that stage to help avoid cancer. But doing nothing is not one of them.
Be thankful for what you have today, as I am, and celebrate with your loved ones. Be kind to those loved ones and take care of yourself.
Oh, another tip here -- moderate amounts of turkey, sweet potatoes, corn on the cob and pumpkin pie are not known causes of Barrett's Esophagus or esophageal cancer. So eat up and celebrate, with your loved ones of course!
Two years ago I was not certain my future would include today, Thanksgiving 2009, or my birthday a couple of days later.
In my mind, the future looks like today.
Two years ago, I'd just been removed from my 24/7 chemo pump and was preparing -- as I am now -- for tests on Dec. 7. I was thankful then for my doctors, my family, my friends and for life.
Still, I remember telling my cousin David Spitz, the popular Connecticut chiropractor, that I feared I would not make it to age 50. I was panicked, often tearful. But 50 became a goal. At the time, it seemed distant, remote, unattainable.
Today, it's a bit closer -- just a few days away.
So on this Thanksgiving, I feel truly blessed with that family, those friends, my wonderful doctors, their wonderful staffs, and the knowledge that I've reached another milestone, another goal on the road to recovery from esophageal cancer.
And as a way of paying it forward, I'll reiterate as I have probably too often in this blog: If you get heartburn, if you have acid reflux or even if you take a few Tums or Rolaids every day, you could get cancer. See a doctor, have an endoscopy, consult your family doctor or gastroenterologist.
Heartburn and acid reflux could lead to Barrett's Esophagus, a precursor to esophageal cancer. There are treatments at that stage to help avoid cancer. But doing nothing is not one of them.
Be thankful for what you have today, as I am, and celebrate with your loved ones. Be kind to those loved ones and take care of yourself.
Oh, another tip here -- moderate amounts of turkey, sweet potatoes, corn on the cob and pumpkin pie are not known causes of Barrett's Esophagus or esophageal cancer. So eat up and celebrate, with your loved ones of course!
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Did I ever tell you about ...
Not sure if I ever mentioned in detail my experience with these faux heart attacks I've been having lately.
They're not heart attacks, but sure feel like them -- or so I've been told. I become sweaty and exhausted, chest is compressed and my chest and left arm are in extreme pain. Not quite as bad as after my surgery but damned close.
The heart and the stomach/esophagus are fed by the same network of arteries, so what affects one of these smooth-muscle tissues feeds the other. Since they're faux heart attacks and possibly be caused by something I eat, I tend to call them fart attacks. Gotta laugh at something, right?
They began toward the end of last year, when I really thought I was having a heart attack. It's what sent me to Florida Heart Group and Dr. James Miner. But after cardiac catheterization and other tests, I was cleared -- no heart attack.
Dr. Miner suggested my problems might be related to my cancer surgery. Dr. Philip Styne, the gastroenterologist in Orlando, didn't disagree. He said the attacks might be caused by esophageal spasms.
So the docs prescribed a couple of drugs in case another faux heart attack hits. They seem to hit almost nightly now, some more severe than others.
Some I believe are caused by my schedule -- and the fact that I tend to snack at night when I get off work. Others I just can't explain. They hit at night, during the day, once or twice at work.
Thankfully I have the meds and they really work. One, called Nulev, dissolves under my tongue and is supposed to help with such spasms. It works off and on. The nitro-based drug seems more consistent and reliable. Between the two I've avoided most of the really bad attacks. Those occur about once a week and I just can't manage them.
I tend to think these attacks may be caused by one of the two elements that have stymied my docs since August, when I had CT and PET scans with inconclusive results. The CT scan detected what might be a cyst in my chest. I think it is this cyst that is pressing on an artery that feeds both my heart and esophagus/stomach, especially after I eat, when the stomach -- kind of in my chest because of the surgery -- is bloated.
I've been scheduled for another round of CT and PET scans in early December. Perhaps then the docs will get a handle on what is causing the fart attacks.
They're not heart attacks, but sure feel like them -- or so I've been told. I become sweaty and exhausted, chest is compressed and my chest and left arm are in extreme pain. Not quite as bad as after my surgery but damned close.
The heart and the stomach/esophagus are fed by the same network of arteries, so what affects one of these smooth-muscle tissues feeds the other. Since they're faux heart attacks and possibly be caused by something I eat, I tend to call them fart attacks. Gotta laugh at something, right?
They began toward the end of last year, when I really thought I was having a heart attack. It's what sent me to Florida Heart Group and Dr. James Miner. But after cardiac catheterization and other tests, I was cleared -- no heart attack.
Dr. Miner suggested my problems might be related to my cancer surgery. Dr. Philip Styne, the gastroenterologist in Orlando, didn't disagree. He said the attacks might be caused by esophageal spasms.
So the docs prescribed a couple of drugs in case another faux heart attack hits. They seem to hit almost nightly now, some more severe than others.
Some I believe are caused by my schedule -- and the fact that I tend to snack at night when I get off work. Others I just can't explain. They hit at night, during the day, once or twice at work.
Thankfully I have the meds and they really work. One, called Nulev, dissolves under my tongue and is supposed to help with such spasms. It works off and on. The nitro-based drug seems more consistent and reliable. Between the two I've avoided most of the really bad attacks. Those occur about once a week and I just can't manage them.
I tend to think these attacks may be caused by one of the two elements that have stymied my docs since August, when I had CT and PET scans with inconclusive results. The CT scan detected what might be a cyst in my chest. I think it is this cyst that is pressing on an artery that feeds both my heart and esophagus/stomach, especially after I eat, when the stomach -- kind of in my chest because of the surgery -- is bloated.
I've been scheduled for another round of CT and PET scans in early December. Perhaps then the docs will get a handle on what is causing the fart attacks.
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