James Irvine Trail August 2008 |
The oncologist, Dr. Eva Thomas, met with us across the street at Kaiser’s old oncology department.
Dr. Thomas was well-dressed, a vision of black, white, and gold, with her skirt and top, and matching jewelry—not flashy, but not stuffy either. She led us into a large examining room which had a bed off to the side and several chairs, as well as a table. We all sat on chairs, at equal height, a first. This was a discussion, not an examination. I felt like an adult, rather than a child being tended to by a parent. My legs were not dangling from a little high bed—they touched the floor firmly.
Dr. Thomas talked to us frankly, echoing Dr. Goetz.
“It’s not standard for someone with stage one to have oncology treatment,” she said.
In the back of my mind, I was still entertaining the idea of a transanal excision, partly because I had read on the CC Connections website rave reviews from people, mainly women, who had success with it.
She spoke clearly, explaining that chemo worked with radiation, augmenting its affects. Radiation would proceed for about five weeks on a daily basis. The chemo is a chemical inserted into a big vein in the neck during radiation. The 5FU chemo, she said, did not result in hair loss. But diarrhea, nausea, abdominal pain, and mouth sores were to be expected. Another chemo option, Xoloda, a pill, could be taken by mouth two times a day.
“Let me know what you decide,” she said, as we shook hands with her.
We walked out of the building and around to the garage to get the car.
“ I don’t want to be a cancer patient," Dan said.
He saw the colostomy now as Dixon presented it to us: Dan was an otherwise healthy, fit man who enjoyed walking and wanted to be able to do a ten mile hike if he wanted, without issue, and no leakage. Dan didn’t want to invest in the medical system physically or emotionally any longer than he had to. He didn’t want to risk the resection, with its ominous potential problems.
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