The level of confusion, for want of a better word is amazing. On the one hand, it is good news. Let the chemicals run through their routine and exit the system.

Take a couple of months off to reassess the situation.

Ponder the meaning of life.

Start working on all my projects.

Keep away from the routine of the hospital.

Janet was talking the other day about this situation. You start on this adventure in a bit of a daze. You ask a bunch of questions. According to Janet I was asking my fair share of questions. Except that I was repeating my questions. I was getting answers and repeating the same questions. As I said, in a bit of a daze.

You acquiesce to the advice given by the doctors. Specially if you like them. They seem to know what they are doing. Dr. Heldey has a huge collection of articles to his credit. Surely, he knows a lot of stuff about colon cancer and its metastasized state. He is very reassuring. All we can do is follow his advice.

There is a lot of talk of alternatives to the traditional medicines. There are no proofs, just a lot of information. It is very hard to sift through all the information. We have discovered that you tend to make sense of the information as time goes by, as the need arises to make sense of things. So much of the information is anecdotal. We have no idea if people are responding to the medication, the alternative choices, or not.

I have always maintained that I will not live just for the sake of living. I will not go through a regime that seems to be more work than it is worth. What price is life worth living for? All this work and you live an extra two years. Is it worth it? Probably to the people around you, but not for the person going through the chronic condition. At least not to this one. I keep reading about people going through all sorts of programs to live longer. Why the compulsion to live at any cost?

The health network has looked after me for the past year. Diagnosis, operation, Chemo. Everyone looking after the chronic. With a smile, a laugh and a hug. You, the chronic are being looked after by all these people. The chronic is not doing anything, while things are done to him. We are a bit powerless. Go to the hospital, give blood, get Chemo. Make sure you have taken your drugs before the Chemo. Go home, sleep, rest, make the best of the situation.

We have to move now from having things done to us to deciding what we need to do for ourselves. We have to follow through with some of the stuff we have been reading about. Make sense of all the messages we are getting. Again, sift through everything and make decisions.

I find the situation very confusing. Again not sure if that is the right word. I have a lot of projects to work through, a lot of time to figure things out.

Every once in a while a glitch appears in the system. A time space continuum as they would say in Star Trek. Never quite figured out what that meant. Sounds amazing though.

So it was on this Tuesday. The Chemo Daycare unit lost track of the prescription for my Chemo medication. They had to phone the great Dr. Hedley to get a renewal. I waited an hour and a half. The waiting room was full. I just assumed they had fallen behind. I finally decided it was time to ask questions when I discovered what was causing the delay. This was not good news. The had just received the go-ahead. We now had to wait a couple of hours for the pharmacy to prepare the drugs.

I had arrived at the vampire clinic around quarter to ten. My two favourite nurses were there, Delanie, and Viviene. Delanie took on the task of sucking the blood out of me. This was going to be a full blood test including the liver enzymes in preparation for meeting Dr. Hedley on Wednesday. I mentioned to Delanie how impressed people are with the committee approach to looking after us. She smiled and said that is reserved for complicated cases only. Ahh, more information. Every visit yields new insights.

This was going to be a long day. The whole process was finished at four in the afternoon. All the nurses who looked after me were terrific as usual. They have looked after me before, making for a very relaxed afternoon. My blood count was good. I am hoping to avoid Neulasta for this week.

A couple of interesting observations. One of the patients would not shut up. I watched him in the waiting room. He changed seats three times and engaged the people sitting beside him. They never said a word as he started his conversation and continued until someone else came along, or he was interrupted or something. He sported a small red button that loudly acclaimed that Cancer Sucks.

These two ladies walked in as well. They were a bit agitated, a bundle of nerves. One of them was the companion. They were both wearing the same T-shirt that said something about supporting some cancer fighting initiative. The tag line read Kicking Cancer.

I could not help but wonder at both these displays of distaste with cancer. I do not see the point of either. Both appear to me to be negative in their outlook. We all know cancer sucks. No ones needs to be reminded of this less than the other cancer patients in the room. Yes, it sucks, but what are you going to do about it? Railing against the intrusion does little except make matters worse.

Kicking cancer sounds a lot like you are constantly kicking your self somewhere you should be avoiding. In my case, that would be the liver. Already painful enough. It does not need to be kicked any more. It has gone through enough punishment already.

We have covered this ground before. We surely need more love for our bodies. Fetneh is always reminding me to talk to my liver and tell it how much I love it. Amongst all the other stuff we are doing, it is surely helping. One of my cats, BooBoo Long Paws, insists on lying on me for a bout five minutes almost every day. He lies on my stomach and purrs. We are sure that my liver responds positively to that as well. Whatever. We are full of superstitions about all sorts of things, why not add this to the list.

My body has stopped reacting to the Chemo drugs. Even Avastin is no longer causing the destruction to my nose. I have not had a nose bleed in a couple of weeks. I was talking about this with a friend of mine who said, wow, this is a good thing, no? No, is the answer. The body has rallied summoning all the forces within the immune system, to render all the drugs useless. This is not good. We are seeing Dr. Hedley on Wednesday for a longer discussion on what is next in this new life of ours.

Went to see Dr. Kennedy today. She was delighted to be the first to give the results of the CT-Scan as well as CEA blood test numbers. The CT-Scan results are outlined below. As you can see, a huge drop in the size of the tumours.

Janet and I were both a bit overwhelmed by the information and under-reacted, to say the least. Went out for lunch to celebrate. And cried. And hugged. And cried some more.

I have come to the conclusion that it is the crying that expels the cancer cells.

The CEA blood count is also down rather dramatically, from 1266. on November 18, to 392.9 on December 16. All pointing to a move in the right direction.

That is all I can write for now.

All sizes in cm 16-Nov-09 11-Jan-10 %
Liver 21.10 14.80 29.86%
Segment 7 8.20 6.20 24.39%
Segment 8 6.70 4.70 29.85%
Segment 3 2.40 1.40 41.67%
Segment 5/8 3.80 2.50 34.21%
Lung 1.60 1.00 37.50%
Right Lung Base 1 0.80 0.40 50.00%
Right Lung Base 2 0.80 0.60 25.00%

Went to see the oncologist yesterday with mixed results.

The last CT Scan we did was at the end of July, before the full diagnosis, and before the operation, and before the chemo, and just plain before.

Monday’s CT Scan revealed more cancer tumours and activities. This is to be expected. No treatments results in very active active cancer cells taking advantage of our largesse to promote their intent. Here we are, almost three months after the operation with more tumours, not less.

This had surprisingly little effect on me. Dr. Hedley is amazingly re-assuring and positive through all things. He went through checking me out prior to discussing the results of the test. He prodded and probed and was amazed at the excellent condition of my stomach muscles. I really have no way of judging these things, but I am apparently in better shape than we thought.

A CEA blood test was done, the results of which will be available in 10 days. I have discussed this test before, but for those of ailing memory, here is a link with an explanation. It is not a conclusive test, but it does give us an idea of the direction of the healing. We left the good doctor in good humour. He gave me a hug. I mean, what kind of a heartless doctor gives his patient a hug? Told you he was good.

His basic premise is that I am well if I am feeling well. There are good points and bad to this. I was feeling well at the beginning of July in spite of this invasion, until I felt bad. But I tend to agree with him overall. Feeling pretty good, mentally and physically. Getting stronger. Putting on weight to the point where I might have to go on a see-food diet. The general prognosis is is that I am improving and the cancer must be in full retreat. 10 days.

My voice is, as always, the barometer of my health. It is weaker than I would like it to be. But this is the end of chemo week and the start of mighty and strong week.


We received some results from the blood test that would lead us to believe that I am doing very well indeed. The tests involved levels of

Test old value new value normal range
ALP 403 149 30 to 120
ALT 67 33 5 to 35
LD 588 257 100 to 190

The normal range is listed below. The information below has been copied from They provide a very comprehensive explanation of what these things are.


Reference ranges vary from laboratory to laboratory and also depend upon the method used. However, normal values are generally framed by the ranges shown below. Values for enzymes are based upon measurement at 37°C.

  • ALT: 5-35 IU/L (values for the elderly may be slightly higher, and values also may be higher in men and in African-Americans).
  • AST: 0-35 IU/L.
  • ALP: 30-120 IU/LALP is higher in children, older adults and pregnant females.
  • GGT: males 2-30 U/L; females 1-24 U/L.
  • LD: 0-4 days old: 290-775 U/L; 4-10 days: 545-2000 U/L; 10 days-24 months:180-430 U/L; 24 months-12 years:110-295 U/L; 12-60 years:100-190 U/L; 60 years: >110-210 U/L.
  • Bilirubin: (Adult, elderly, and child) Total bilirubin:0.1-1.0 mg/dL; indirect bilirubin: 0.2-0.8 mg/dL; direct bilirubin: 0.0-0.3 mg/dL. (Newborn) Total bilirubin: 1-12 mg/dL. Note: critical values for adult: greater than1.2 mg/dL. Critical values for newborn (requiring immediate treatment): greater than 15 mg/dL.
  • Ammonia: 10-70 micrograms per dL (heparinized plasma). Normal values for this test vary widely, depending upon the age of the patient and the type of specimen.
  • Albumin: 3.2-5.4 g/L.
© 2010 I Have Cancer Suffusion theme by Sayontan Sinha