Summer, 2013
Monday Update
I am continuing to heal from last Tuesday's scalp operation. It was a procedure along similar lines as the last. The Surgery Unit at Moffitt has become all too familiar to me. The staff, for the most part, all recognize me and know my name. I have long dialogs with the surgeon, nurses and staff, before, during and after surgeries. We know each other way too well. I am a rock star in this place. My fantasy is to be like Norm on Cheers, and be recognized by everyone in a bar. This is not the same. Trust me.Dr. Harrington removed another section of my scalp, covered it with Integra and a silicone sheet. We talked, during the operation, about stitching another pad to my head to keep things tidy and clean for a week, and then having it removed, again, back at Moffitt. We decided that I would do without that step, this time, and that Kath and I would remove a small covering bandage ourselves on Monday (today). I have not yet done my part. Likely, later today, I will have another shower to soften the tape and it will make the removal a little easier. Hah.
In The Blood: Antibiotics.
On The Stereo: Foreigner Suite, Cat Stevens
Dr. Gary Correnti had removed the staples from my scalp on May 16th and cleaned the wound, and on June 13th, during the next visit, he cleaned the wound again. The wound was still slightly wet at that time, but we were told that healing would take a while, and not to worry.We were now into July, at home, and my life had been good. We had been doing all the regular stuff, with our friends and neighbors. Sushi night with the Hannas and Doug Dickey, a visit from Art and Hasseline Thompson and golf with Art. And a Sunday game of golf with Dennis and Bernadette Mansfield. So far, so good.
Our grandchildren, Eleanor and Addy, along with their nanny, flew from Seattle to visit. We all went to Disney from July 17th to the 20th. We stayed at The Grand Floridian and had a fun-filled few days, filled with lots of rides and adventures. Our girlies were on the stage, performing the hula, at the luau at the Polynesian Resort and sang with the cast at the Hoop-Dee-Doo Musical Review. As our Disney trip ended, Maia, their nanny, left us to take some vacation time with her friends. Eleanor had been booked in to our club's summer camp. Addy was not old enough, so her time would be spent with Grammy. The four of us lived every day to the fullest. The girls were happy and wanted to stay with us forever. A grandparents' dream.
On July 24th, I was scheduled for an MRI in the doctor's clinic. I left a small pool of fluid from my head on the MRI table and the technician questioned me as to why it was leaking. I told her that my doctor knew about it and I was not to be concerned. As I met with Kath in the waiting room, the technician and Dr. Alvarez stopped us and asked us to go directly to Gulf Coast Medical Center, and check in. They suspected an infection and said I would need immediate treatment. They would call the hospital and Dr. Correnti would catch up with us there. And so off we went to the hospital. I was given a room and Kathy, with Addy in tow, returned home to pick up Eleanor after her day at camp. I was left alone for the night. No wife. No kids. No sign of my doctor. I was less than happy.
Dr. Correnti came to see me the next evening. After some small talk, he scrubbed the wound with a cloth and sterile water. Vigorously. The attending nurse turned her head away, as she could see I was in a lot of pain. The wound was openly raw and the doctor was not at all gentle. He said I should stay in the hospital and he would set up an operation to fix the problem. I asked when this would be done and he said it might take a while to make the arrangements. He also mentioned that it might need to be done in Gainesville, where the facility there might have better resources. Now I was openly angry. I had been strung along for weeks and this doctor was doing nothing to help. It was now Friday night, and he wanted me to stay in hospital, at least over the weekend, and most likely longer. He had no plans. I was out of there in an hour. Discharged.
Expecting something to happen soon, and not knowing where, or to what extent, Kathy decided that she would fly the girls home to Seattle by herself, and then come straight home again. We had originally planned for both of us to take them home and then vacation there for a few days. Meanwhile, my poor head was still sore from the scrubbing and a piece of metal was now apparent, barely, but nonetheless visible. The staples had been removed, so we were somewhat concerned as to what was presented by this new issue.
And, so continued our summer. Again, we stayed busy doing fun stuff. My consulting business was slowly heading south. My head wound continued to leak and visiting prospective clients did not seem an appropriate thing to do. Our income began to shrink. Kath had a girl's weekend with some of her buds and some new friends in the military, from D.C. They had a scavenger hunt at Coconut Point one day and a boozy boat cruise on another, and meals and parties in between. The only reason I mention this, is because one of the games they played, asked them to confess the place and with whom they had the strangest sex. Now that was a good question. One of her new friends answered with a story that could not be beaten. I can only re-tell it privately, as I might be breaking a confidence, although I don't think so. Kath was glad her turn never came, because she did not have a remarkable story to compete. So, now I have to work on that, in case this game returns. I would like her to be a contender. Good luck to me.
Coincident with all of this nonsense, I was still fighting cancer. Stage 4 melanoma. Despite moving from Tuscaloosa to Fort Myers, I had continued to see Dr. Conry in Birmingham. Alabama, who had cared for me since 1996. We had eventually arrived at another critical stage in mid 2012 and the doctor suggested I might prepare myself for another hospital stay as my lungs showed evidence of metastasis. We had been flying back and forth for regular check-ups for a few years, but the idea that we might be hospitalized for an extended period, far from home, with two dogs in our house, seemed daunting. We decided we needed to find help closer to home.
One of the first people to whom we were introduced, at our club, was Dr. Keith Miller. Keith had heard of my health history, from our real estate agent, Clare Mannion, and had offered help, if ever I needed it. This, then, was the time to find a local oncologist. The decision to leave someone you have dealt with and trusted for years, was difficult for us. I called Keith and asked if I could take him up on his offer. He went right to work, to help me out. Dr. Lowell Hart was practicing at Florida Cancer Specialists, and when I met him, I had no reticence, whatsoever, in transferring my future cancer fight to his care. Dr. Hart was a kind and caring man, low key and knowledgable. Thank you Keith. Another great neighbor.
Our new arrangement had gone well for the first few months, with regular visits and close monitoring, replete with blood work and scans. And then, he too, thought we needed to begin another new medical regimen. Immediately. Dr. Hart, during his discussions with us, had told us that we just needed to hang on as best we could, as there were a number of new drugs being tested, that he thought could be game changing in their make-up and effectiveness. Just hang in. Again and again. That had been our mantra for the last ten years.
The good doctor had an idea. It was a bit of a long-shot, but maybe worth a try. He made a call to Moffitt Cancer Center, where they were about to begin a new clinical trial. They needed one more volunteer and they would interview me the next week. Meanwhile, Dr. Hart booked me an infusion chair to begin treatment with an approved drug, Yervoy, in case I was not accepted.
What we did not realize was that the residual problems from my AVM and melanoma treatments were now on a collision course.
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