A Patient's Journal with CLL

Townsend Letter for Doctors and Patients, August, 2001 by Andrew Schorr

By the next morning, it became clear I was wise to have a big meal that night of the last treatment. This Saturday, as I awakened, nausea hit me in waves. And despite trying to keep down the prescribed anti-nausea medicine, every 15 minutes I found myself praying at the toilet. Nothing too exciting...2 minutes or so of dry heaves...and then 15-20 minutes of lying in bed wondering why my body was turning against me.

Of course, it wasn't turning against me but rather complaining about the insult of being a cancer-cell battleground over the past few days. Finally, my stomach was pitching a tantrum and I couldn't stop it. But Nurse Debbie in the emergency room could. She and Dr. Muhammed hit me with IV Zofran and it stopped the revolt in its tracks. But the trip to the ER was a 4-hour exercise.

Obviously, this was sort of a comeuppance for me. I had been sailing along until the nausea hit. It was a reminder that powerful forces were at work -- well beyond my control. Maybe beyond Dr. Keating's control too. So what one has to rely on is faith. Faith in some power that will look after you. And while the outcome could be different than what we might expect or even hope for, there can be the belief that it's part of a plan and that there is a reason why things turn out the way they do.

Day Seven--August 27,2000

No nausea today. Good thing. This is a traveling day -- traveling home.

Dr. Keating made a quick trip to Canada to give a scientific talk, but he'd be back this morning and wanted us to page him to get his read on yesterday's blood test results. We paged him as he asked and our phone rang at Rotary House a minute later. White count down some more -- now to 120. Platelets up to 84,000. Looking good. "Sorry about the nausea," he said, "but not to worry, it should not occur on future cycles; or, hardly at all."

Really, he was quite pleased and wished us well on our flight home. It was all so matter of fact. The sun was shining and just maybe it was the beginning of a real new day for me. Yes, there would be more cycles and another trip or two back down here for checkups. But maybe the whole process would get a little easier, a little less anxiety producing, with less noticeable effect on healthy me and even more effect on those unwanted leukemia cells.

So it was off to the Houston airport after a brief adventure to Wal-Mart to get the kids little gifts. Our 3-year-old, Eitan, has been begging us for one of those ridiculous "singing fish." Thankfully Wal-Mart was sold out and Eitan will just have to settle for a model of the space shuttle and three space-suited astronauts.

I am so glad I saved up miles so we could fly for four-and-a-half hours first class. It wasn't that I was feeling unwell. But I really wanted to be pampered by the airline just like I've been by Esther. I could really get used to this! Do you have to have cancer to feel like a VIP? Or is this a good reminder of how moments and relationships are to be treasured?

The flight home was good. And the welcome at home was even better. We rendezvoused with the kids at a neighborhood restaurant near our home. The smiles from the kids were positively incandescent. To them I looked just a little bit thinner (I'd lost maybe 8 or 9 pounds), but I was still Daddy and they were ready to make up for lost time. So was I. More days of being Daddy, that's what I long for.