Is it chemo or Jagermeister?

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    Dan has been taking Temodar and radiation for a little over a week now.  The first day was easy.  There was no projectile vomiting.  No Linda Blair style howls of anger.  Everything appeared to be, well…normal.  Then day two rolled around.  The morning found Dan feeling like he’d been on an all night Jagermeister binge minus the good memories to ease the pain.  He had a  *fat bomb and felt a little better.  At 9:30 we headed to the radiologist.  It takes us 45 minutes to get there and only 10 minutes for the whole procedure but those 10 minutes drain every ounce of energy from Dan.  He stumbles to the car and falls asleep.  He wakes up long enough to get in the house and to the couch where he promptly falls asleep again till I wake him for brunch.  He continues to sleep most of the day waking just long enough to eat and make clever comments about the things going on around him, which we usually enjoy.

This has become our new norm.

A favorite keto brunch...avocado, bacon, and parma crisp salad!

    Since last week rolled along so predictably, I assumed that this week would be the same.  Yes, the doctor did say the effects of radiation and chemo are accumulative, but I guess I chose not to process that little tidbit of information.  Week two found Dan miserable and uncomfortable no matter what pharmaceutical, herbal or meditative therapy I encouraged him to try.  On Wednesday after radiation he felt as if he might actually throw up which is a big deal for Dan.  He hasn’t thrown up (so he says) in 27 years, which explains the tiny lesions the CAT scan picked up on his Guinness pickled liver.  We had a long ride home so we decided to try and grab something to eat to settle his stomach.  He made it to a booth and ordered his chicken sandwich minus the bun and french fries then slumped over on the table.  He was out.  People walked by staring at him…eyeballing him as if he were a drunk or addict, his tall body spilling over the tabletop, oblivious.   Climbing to the other side of the booth, I pulled him up and cradled him against me, like a 6 foot two inch baby. For the first time since this whole thing started, I felt utterly alone.

    We finally made it home.  Dan slept almost the whole day just waking up long enough to eat and take his meds. 

    I can’t lie, this whole cancer thing sucks, but as with most things, it could be worse.  Dan still has his 27-year streak and who wants to eat a chicken sandwich without the bun anyway?

Rhonda Walsingham-Colonna

Dan visiting today with our pixie niece.

Fat Bomb-a type of “candy” used in keto diets to get large amounts of good fats into the body.                          

                                    85%  dark chocolate

                                    8 Tablespoons butter

                                    3 Tablespoons coconut oil

                                    4 Tablespoons almond butter

                                    1 Tablespoon heavy whipping cream

                                    ½ cup macadamia nuts

                                                           

                                                Freeze and YUM!

To hurl, or not to hurl, that is the question!

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    Tonight’s the big night.  At bedtime Dan takes two different Temodar tablets, one 140mg and the other 20mg.  He is scared.  So am I.  People with very big hearts and good intentions keep telling me about their personal experiences with chemotherapy.

“They puked all down the hall!”

“They’ll say mean things to you!  Every bad feeling they have, they’ll take out on you!”

“They’ll ask you to cook one thing, then refuse to eat it!”

“You’ll get use to the smell of puke in no time!”

“Dan will look great bald!”

Dan almost one month after craniotomy.

    These are the snippets of conversation that I took to the radiologist when we met with him for the first time.  So I asked the doctor to give it to us straight.  To not hold back.  What are we in for when Dan takes the chemo and the radiation?

“Not much really.  A little irritation at the point of radiation.  Mostly fatigue.”

    “What?  That’s it?  Are you serious?”  Dan and I had been hearing that same thing from various doctors  however, there were little asides that gave us pause.  One nurse wanted us to be part of a clinical trial that would make him feel “a whole lot better” during chemo and radiation.  The neuro oncologist prescribes TWO anit-nausea pills just in case one is not enough.  Hmmmmmm.

    Dan says, “Let’s keep a vomit bucket by the bed.”   He has given in to visions on par with the projectile vomiting induced by the “black drink” of indigenous peoples of the Southeastern Woodlands.

    Not me.

    I will wear my pretty pajamas, leave my long hair hanging loose and the good rug by the bed.  I trust no one will be sacrificing our labor intensive ketogenic meal of lemon chicken and cauliflower tonight….

Surprise...

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    I have always been in fairly good health and pride myself on better than average eating and workout habits.  So I was very shocked when the left side of my body went numb.  I first convinced myself that it must be a pinched nerve or something, but a week later it was still there.  With my wife Rhonda's persuasion, I finally went to the hospital.  The absolute last thing I expected to hear was, we found a tumor in your brain and we would like to do surgery tomorrow to remove it.

Dan and Rhonda on the Via Dell'Amore in Cinque Terre, Italy

    How could this happen to me?  In just over a week’s time I went from feeling great to this.  I imagine the shock I felt was the same as everyone else who has ever been in this situation.
     I told my doctor I needed 24 hours to research and digest the information.  Then two days later I was being prepped for a craniotomy. Everything went perfectly and a few days later I was released to go home to finish recovering.  While in the hospital I thought about how much this is going to not only change my life, but those around me.  No one else's life has been as effected as my wonderful wife who had to put her life on hold in order to assist me with everything.
     It is now almost a month after surgery.  I am feeling better and stronger every day.  The tumor turned out to be a form of cancer known as Glioblastoma.  I am now about to start the next phase of beating this, with chemotherapy and radiation treatments beginning this week.  In addition to the medical science approach, I am also hitting this from a holistic angle, mainly with a ketogenic diet.

Rhonda and I decided to start this blog together to document the whole process for several reasons:

1. To keep friends and family updated.
2. Therapeutic for ourselves
3. To help others who are going through this same thing

Thank you for joining us on this journey.

Dan