mushroom cloud laying motherfucker
today, we went to see the medical oncologist. no real surprises, but it did solidify a few things. i have stage 4 metastatic melanoma: several lesions in my brain (already zapped by marsellus wallace and his gamma knife), one in my lung, and two in my liver. the only one that's been positively biopsied is the ping pong ball that they yanked out of my noggin. to diagnose the rest of the tumors, they're using that biopsy and the ct and mri scans; makes sense. the pet scan i get next week will also help lock all that down. at this point, the plan is to do an aggressive course of immunotherapies. sure, i'd much rather have heard the oncologist say "we're all good here, buddy. move along." the oncologist, dr taylor, was great, explained things well, and seemed like a really affable version of rob corrdry or mark proksch/collin robinson (which was oddly comforting).
i just feel lucky to live in the 2020s because these immunotherapies didn't exist 15 years ago; i feel lucky that i have melanoma, because these immunotherapies don't really exist for most other cancers. like my dermatologist said, 20 years ago, i'd've been a goner, but since we live in the future, in a society that values and funds science and doesn't just fall back on witch doctors and faith healers, i, and a lot of people like me, have way more than a fighting chance. melanoma immunotherapy works by "supercharging" your immune system by suppressing the mechanisms that typically turn it off when it's not needed. other than killing the melanoma, the other potential side effects mimic autoimmune issues: from simple rashes and fatigue (likely) to more complex gut problems (unlikely) to more serious attacks on the endocrine glands (loss of the thyroid or pancreas, very unlikely). over the next several months, i'll be going in every three weeks for infusions; sitting high up on the 11th floor of the franz clinic at providence hospital with a beautiful view of portland while listening to some chilled out playlists (or maybe some aggressive ones, we'll see how it goes). along the way, the medical team will continue the ct, pet, and mri scans to track the progress.
more than anything, i am lucky to not be going through this alone. i have carol and our kitties; they keep me going no matter what. i have a huge logical, biological, and work family and so many friends that care for me deeply, that i know we can lean on for whatever we may need. not everyone is so lucky, which makes me sad, but that's a problem for another day.
i'm still upbeat, positive, and feeling great; i've been walking a ton and listening to a lot of music. with the help of all y'all, my mom's strength, my dad's stoicism, and carol's love, i'm going to fight this shit like a mushroom cloud laying motherfucker.
it's always an adventure.
