Biopsy Results, June 2019
In My Bloodstream: Olmesartan Medoxomil, Omeprazole,Tamsulosin
On The Stereo: Doesn't Have To Be this Way, Alison Krauss
This turned out to be one of the more bizarre, in a long line of turbulent and unsettling weeks. As you know, last Monday, I began to apply on my arms, the topical cream treatment for skin cancer. The same as I has done to my face.
Well, that day did not go well. I had believed that my face was well on its way to healing. It was not. The itching had become amplified, and my eyes began to bulge and twitch from the discomfort. I had difficulty focusing. I had believed that I had completed the treatment and brought it to a conclusion. Not, perhaps, a successful conclusion, give the fact that my face was much more inflamed, but I thought the worst was over. And my first day of my arm treatment was underway. Crap.
In another part of the galaxy, commonly known as my body, the rebels were causing further unrest.
I had recently changed my blood pressure meds, eliminating lisinopril, due to its side effect, which induces coughing. For well over a week, I had been fine. The change in meds had been going swimmingly. A bit erratic, but always in the safe zone. Now that was not the case. My vitals have for years, been under control, and have normally been measured around 130 over 75, with a stand-in heart rate of 60bpm. Throughout the day, that had jumped to 165 over 79 and eventually spiked to 201 over 89, just as I was headed to bed. Kathy asked what I wanted to do. I took two low-dose aspirin, and refused her offer to go to the ER. Low-dose were the only type we had in the house.
I do not expect you to remember that my dad died as a result of a series of massive heart attacks, and Mom had died, peacefully, from high blood pressure. That was top of mind, as I went to bed. Then Kath said, "Don't die on me." For whatever reason, I am not afraid to die. We have been on and off that carousel too many times. I am ready. Last rites. Green light. Not up to me anymore. Bring it on Big Guy.
Kath went ape-shit. "You will not leave me here alone. I am going first. Not you. Don't you die on me."
I told her I loved her. The next morning, it was obvious that neither of us had slept. Kat went off to teach and I started to figure out what the hell was happening to me. And, in case you are not sure, I did not die.
My first thought, was the consternation from the skin treatment, had somehow elevated my BP. So I called my GP and left a message for him to call me, and the reasons that he should do so, asap. He was not expected in until the afternoon. Then I called my Moffitt hot line. They took down all of my information and told me I would get a return call imminently. All I needed from them, was side-effect information on the two creams I was using. They were, or were not, responsible for my blood pressure dilemma.
Shortly thereafter, the resident doctor who had started me on this trip, called to say that she had researched all the data, and there had never been any blood pressure issues reported. Ever. I explained that my face was horrific, at least in my view. She assured me, again, that after some careful and mild exfoliation, my skin would be like a baby's bottom. I explained that I was not sure of that, and she said she would see me on Friday. The truth is, that any narcissism I have ever had, had long been beaten out of me by melanoma and the surgeons that had carved their signatures into my skin.
Baby's butt, my ass.
It was now after 5, and I realized I had not heard fro my GP. Crap. Crap. I knew I had probably missed him. I dialed his number anyway. It rang several times, until the message machine interrupted. Crap. Crap. Crap.
I listened to the instructions, and then I began to leave my message. Then the doctor picked up. He apologized that he had not yet called me, and we began to review my problems. He was, thankfully, very cool with the problem. He talked about possible causes, and made recommendations. I added amlodopine back into my daily drug diet.
As of today, the machinery is back to normal. All pumps have been responsive. My vitals are, hopefully, back in order. Hallelujah.
On Friday, I drove Kathy to her school, came home, showered, had my standard yogurt and and an apple for lunch, and drove to Tampa. Moffitt, you know. As always, the check-in staff were terrific. I looked like hell, and they paid no attention. Polite and fun. I know for certain, that they continually deal with people with far more disorders than I. Told them to have a great weekend. I think I might have been the last check-in. Did not matter. Canadian politeness is hard to shed.
In the examination room. The usual. Take my vitals. Take my clothes off. I must look a god. Adonis. Right. They always want me naked. Some parts are still holding together. Sadly, only the ones usually covered by my shorts. What has become of me?
The docs and staff were now in charge. I am ready to submit, Let me have it.
The first news. All five biopsies are basel cell. For those not in the cancer loop, that is extremely good news. The resident in charge makes the plans. There will be one surgery on my back. There will be two scrape and burns, and a choice for the others. We, collectively, decide that the cancer on my lip and behind my left ear, will require Mohs surgery, and my stomach, which was planned to be another scrape and burn, will also require a larger excision. The breadth on the surface, greatly exceeded the width of the biopsy. We are now set to carry on. Only one shoulder cancer was removed and then burned, to heal the wound.
We then returned to the subject of what used to be my face. It looks good she says. This woman must be blind. No, says I. I remind her that she said my skin would look like a baby's bottom. Right now, the only thing my face had in common with a baby's butt, was that they both needed changing. The doctor and staff all laugh. I, not so much. But I do think I am funny. Good line, I think to myself.
Improved? Think not.
We set up our next appointment to biopsy more areas. And we set our schedule for my surgeries, all to be completed prior to my next dermatological visit.
The summer is shaping up to be comfortable. Surgeries and recovery will require me to be inside, out of the heat.
Additionally, I will manage the skin treatment on my own. I only have to do my arms, shins, my back and my chest. And a re-do of my face,
Punishment for past indiscretions. What a lucky man I am.
Today, in my office.
Back next week, energized. Sorry. This one was consuming.
Thanks to all of you who sent me messages this week. They were needed, and sincerely appreciated.
My heart remains intact.
As always, love to hear from you.
https://www.jrobinmullen@gmail.com
Well, that day did not go well. I had believed that my face was well on its way to healing. It was not. The itching had become amplified, and my eyes began to bulge and twitch from the discomfort. I had difficulty focusing. I had believed that I had completed the treatment and brought it to a conclusion. Not, perhaps, a successful conclusion, give the fact that my face was much more inflamed, but I thought the worst was over. And my first day of my arm treatment was underway. Crap.
I had recently changed my blood pressure meds, eliminating lisinopril, due to its side effect, which induces coughing. For well over a week, I had been fine. The change in meds had been going swimmingly. A bit erratic, but always in the safe zone. Now that was not the case. My vitals have for years, been under control, and have normally been measured around 130 over 75, with a stand-in heart rate of 60bpm. Throughout the day, that had jumped to 165 over 79 and eventually spiked to 201 over 89, just as I was headed to bed. Kathy asked what I wanted to do. I took two low-dose aspirin, and refused her offer to go to the ER. Low-dose were the only type we had in the house.
I do not expect you to remember that my dad died as a result of a series of massive heart attacks, and Mom had died, peacefully, from high blood pressure. That was top of mind, as I went to bed. Then Kath said, "Don't die on me." For whatever reason, I am not afraid to die. We have been on and off that carousel too many times. I am ready. Last rites. Green light. Not up to me anymore. Bring it on Big Guy.
Kath went ape-shit. "You will not leave me here alone. I am going first. Not you. Don't you die on me."
I told her I loved her. The next morning, it was obvious that neither of us had slept. Kat went off to teach and I started to figure out what the hell was happening to me. And, in case you are not sure, I did not die.
My first thought, was the consternation from the skin treatment, had somehow elevated my BP. So I called my GP and left a message for him to call me, and the reasons that he should do so, asap. He was not expected in until the afternoon. Then I called my Moffitt hot line. They took down all of my information and told me I would get a return call imminently. All I needed from them, was side-effect information on the two creams I was using. They were, or were not, responsible for my blood pressure dilemma.
Shortly thereafter, the resident doctor who had started me on this trip, called to say that she had researched all the data, and there had never been any blood pressure issues reported. Ever. I explained that my face was horrific, at least in my view. She assured me, again, that after some careful and mild exfoliation, my skin would be like a baby's bottom. I explained that I was not sure of that, and she said she would see me on Friday. The truth is, that any narcissism I have ever had, had long been beaten out of me by melanoma and the surgeons that had carved their signatures into my skin.
It was now after 5, and I realized I had not heard fro my GP. Crap. Crap. I knew I had probably missed him. I dialed his number anyway. It rang several times, until the message machine interrupted. Crap. Crap. Crap.
I listened to the instructions, and then I began to leave my message. Then the doctor picked up. He apologized that he had not yet called me, and we began to review my problems. He was, thankfully, very cool with the problem. He talked about possible causes, and made recommendations. I added amlodopine back into my daily drug diet.
As of today, the machinery is back to normal. All pumps have been responsive. My vitals are, hopefully, back in order. Hallelujah.
On Friday, I drove Kathy to her school, came home, showered, had my standard yogurt and and an apple for lunch, and drove to Tampa. Moffitt, you know. As always, the check-in staff were terrific. I looked like hell, and they paid no attention. Polite and fun. I know for certain, that they continually deal with people with far more disorders than I. Told them to have a great weekend. I think I might have been the last check-in. Did not matter. Canadian politeness is hard to shed.
In the examination room. The usual. Take my vitals. Take my clothes off. I must look a god. Adonis. Right. They always want me naked. Some parts are still holding together. Sadly, only the ones usually covered by my shorts. What has become of me?
The docs and staff were now in charge. I am ready to submit, Let me have it.
The first news. All five biopsies are basel cell. For those not in the cancer loop, that is extremely good news. The resident in charge makes the plans. There will be one surgery on my back. There will be two scrape and burns, and a choice for the others. We, collectively, decide that the cancer on my lip and behind my left ear, will require Mohs surgery, and my stomach, which was planned to be another scrape and burn, will also require a larger excision. The breadth on the surface, greatly exceeded the width of the biopsy. We are now set to carry on. Only one shoulder cancer was removed and then burned, to heal the wound.
We then returned to the subject of what used to be my face. It looks good she says. This woman must be blind. No, says I. I remind her that she said my skin would look like a baby's bottom. Right now, the only thing my face had in common with a baby's butt, was that they both needed changing. The doctor and staff all laugh. I, not so much. But I do think I am funny. Good line, I think to myself.
We set up our next appointment to biopsy more areas. And we set our schedule for my surgeries, all to be completed prior to my next dermatological visit.
The summer is shaping up to be comfortable. Surgeries and recovery will require me to be inside, out of the heat.
Additionally, I will manage the skin treatment on my own. I only have to do my arms, shins, my back and my chest. And a re-do of my face,
Punishment for past indiscretions. What a lucky man I am.
Back next week, energized. Sorry. This one was consuming.
Thanks to all of you who sent me messages this week. They were needed, and sincerely appreciated.
My heart remains intact.
As always, love to hear from you.
https://www.jrobinmullen@gmail.com
Thinking of you often. Appreciate your openness with the blog.
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