October 19, 2006
This post details everything that’s happened to date.
September 22, 2006:
I went to UCLA for a routine endoscopy, performed by a gastroenterologist who is the Director of the UCLA Digestive Diseases Center. The purpose was to alleviate a problem I had been having with food sometimes becoming lodged in my esophagus. The plan was to dilate a muscle in the esophagus.
Instead, the gastroenterologist found a tumor in my esophagus the size of a plum. A biopsy of the tumor was taken and the tissue sample was sent to the pathology lab.
I was told immediately following the procedure that the situation was “very serious” and would require immediate medical intervention.
September 26:
The UCLA pathology lab determined that the tumor was malignant.
I returned to Texas the same day.
September 28:
The UCLA gastroenterologist paved the way for me to work with the Chief of Surgery for the University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center – commonly referred to as “UT Southwestern.”
The two physicians worked with each other for many years at UCLA and are coordinating their respective efforts on my behalf. In addition, I have other friends at UCLA who are physicians. I call on them for advice when the situation warrants. It’s good to have friends in all the right places.
Given my present circumstance, I expect to remain in Texas for the duration of my treatment. Living alone as I normally do, it would be virtually impossible for me to deal with this problem without having someone around.
October 3:
A CT scan was performed at UT Southwestern.
October 4:
A PET scan, a procedure which required a radioactive liquid to be injected into my bloodstream, was performed at UT Southwestern.
October 6:
I met with the UT Southwestern Chief of Surgery to discuss the results of the two scan procedures.
By the time we met, the Chief of Surgery had already begun assembling a team of specialists for my case, all of whom are either a department head or the holder of an endowed chair. New friends in more of the right places.
The CT scan turned up some “suspicious spots” in the lymph nodes in the general area of my esophagus – indicating that the cancer had most likely spread. This is what had set off the alarms with the physicians, thus triggering the need for an immediate PET scan.
The PET scan told a whole new story. A much brighter one. The suspicious spots turned out to be a false alarm. The cancer had not spread.
I was informed that I will require both surgery and what’s called “chemoradiotherapy,” a combination of simultaneous chemotherapy and radiation treatments. The surgery will consist of removing the tumor, along with part of my esophagus. A small portion of my upper stomach will be reconfigured to replace the damaged part of my esophagus. The procedure is expected to take four to six hours to complete.
The chemoradiotherapy process, which will start about a month following the surgery, will take an additional several weeks.
All told, it’s looking like I’ll be receiving constant medical attention well into January.
October 7:
I met with the cardiothoracic surgeon. He and a another surgeon will be performing their magic in the operating room. He’ll handle the part that pertains to my chest area, and his partner will be doing the work in the stomach area. They get along well together. I asked.
According to the surgeon, my condition “isn’t that bad . . . . . . We see tumors in the esophagus that are much larger.”
In early November I’ll be undergoing another endoscopy, this time for the purpose of performing an ultrasound. The results will show tissue densities and other information that will help the surgeons to understand the exact conditions they will be working with in the operating room.
My biggest disappointment about the surgery is that they won’t be using a robot. There had been some discussion along those lines, but the surgeon said this particular procedure is too cumbersome and complicated to use it. Damn.
I really did want the surgeons to use the robot. A “Be the first on your block” kind of thing. But now that I think about it, perhaps the words of Mark Twain apply here: “If it weren’t for the honor of the thing, I’d just as soon skip it.”
October 15:
I met with the oncologist. We talked for more than an hour and a half. He explained everything to me in exacting detail and gave me some research papers to read. After talking with him I felt like I had a good understanding of the whole process – top to bottom.
The most encouraging words he had for me were, “Yes, this is serious . . . . . . . . but also curable.”
The oncologist told me that the Chief of Surgery will convene on Monday, October 23, what’s called a “Tumor Board.” This will be a meeting of the specialists who will be treating me directly, along with a host of other experts from various disciplines. They will go over every aspect of my condition, and then finalize the course of action.
This particular meeting is out of the norm for a couple of reasons. One is that the Chief of Surgery will be doing the presentation himself. I’m told that he normally assigns these presentations to the surgeons.
The other reason is that the oncologist will be attending. He told me he normally doesn’t attend these meetings, but wants to this time because of his personal interest in my case. I love the feeling of having all of these guys fully on board with me.
Once the Tumor Board makes its determinations, it will just be a matter of execution.
Sometime in the next week or two the oncologist will assume the position of team leader – what I like to call the “point man.” All of the other physicians will then begin coordinating their efforts through him.
October 19:
I met with the gastroenterologist. The purpose of the meeting was to have him do his initial exam and review my records. An intense man. What I would expect a high school Science Club member to grow up to be.
He concurred with everything that’s been determined to date, and we discussed the abdominal ultrasound. He told me that he wants an associate of his who has vast experience with that particular procedure to do the test.
His biggest concern is the lymph nodes near my esophagus. As part of the endoscopy, they’ll be doing some biopsies of them. “Just to be sure,” as he put it.
The Chief of Surgery later called to tell me that the ultrasound is now scheduled for November 6.
Providing the Tumor Board concurs with the present sequencing plan, the surgery will probably take place in mid-November. Oh, boy!
I’m very pleased with how things are going. I have every confidence in my team of world-class experts – both here at UT Southwestern and at UCLA. They are superb in every way imaginable. I am truly blessed to have them.
September 22, 2006:
I went to UCLA for a routine endoscopy, performed by a gastroenterologist who is the Director of the UCLA Digestive Diseases Center. The purpose was to alleviate a problem I had been having with food sometimes becoming lodged in my esophagus. The plan was to dilate a muscle in the esophagus.
Instead, the gastroenterologist found a tumor in my esophagus the size of a plum. A biopsy of the tumor was taken and the tissue sample was sent to the pathology lab.
I was told immediately following the procedure that the situation was “very serious” and would require immediate medical intervention.
September 26:
The UCLA pathology lab determined that the tumor was malignant.
I returned to Texas the same day.
September 28:
The UCLA gastroenterologist paved the way for me to work with the Chief of Surgery for the University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center – commonly referred to as “UT Southwestern.”
The two physicians worked with each other for many years at UCLA and are coordinating their respective efforts on my behalf. In addition, I have other friends at UCLA who are physicians. I call on them for advice when the situation warrants. It’s good to have friends in all the right places.
Given my present circumstance, I expect to remain in Texas for the duration of my treatment. Living alone as I normally do, it would be virtually impossible for me to deal with this problem without having someone around.
October 3:
A CT scan was performed at UT Southwestern.
October 4:
A PET scan, a procedure which required a radioactive liquid to be injected into my bloodstream, was performed at UT Southwestern.
October 6:
I met with the UT Southwestern Chief of Surgery to discuss the results of the two scan procedures.
By the time we met, the Chief of Surgery had already begun assembling a team of specialists for my case, all of whom are either a department head or the holder of an endowed chair. New friends in more of the right places.
The CT scan turned up some “suspicious spots” in the lymph nodes in the general area of my esophagus – indicating that the cancer had most likely spread. This is what had set off the alarms with the physicians, thus triggering the need for an immediate PET scan.
The PET scan told a whole new story. A much brighter one. The suspicious spots turned out to be a false alarm. The cancer had not spread.
I was informed that I will require both surgery and what’s called “chemoradiotherapy,” a combination of simultaneous chemotherapy and radiation treatments. The surgery will consist of removing the tumor, along with part of my esophagus. A small portion of my upper stomach will be reconfigured to replace the damaged part of my esophagus. The procedure is expected to take four to six hours to complete.
The chemoradiotherapy process, which will start about a month following the surgery, will take an additional several weeks.
All told, it’s looking like I’ll be receiving constant medical attention well into January.
October 7:
I met with the cardiothoracic surgeon. He and a another surgeon will be performing their magic in the operating room. He’ll handle the part that pertains to my chest area, and his partner will be doing the work in the stomach area. They get along well together. I asked.
According to the surgeon, my condition “isn’t that bad . . . . . . We see tumors in the esophagus that are much larger.”
In early November I’ll be undergoing another endoscopy, this time for the purpose of performing an ultrasound. The results will show tissue densities and other information that will help the surgeons to understand the exact conditions they will be working with in the operating room.
My biggest disappointment about the surgery is that they won’t be using a robot. There had been some discussion along those lines, but the surgeon said this particular procedure is too cumbersome and complicated to use it. Damn.
I really did want the surgeons to use the robot. A “Be the first on your block” kind of thing. But now that I think about it, perhaps the words of Mark Twain apply here: “If it weren’t for the honor of the thing, I’d just as soon skip it.”
October 15:
I met with the oncologist. We talked for more than an hour and a half. He explained everything to me in exacting detail and gave me some research papers to read. After talking with him I felt like I had a good understanding of the whole process – top to bottom.
The most encouraging words he had for me were, “Yes, this is serious . . . . . . . . but also curable.”
The oncologist told me that the Chief of Surgery will convene on Monday, October 23, what’s called a “Tumor Board.” This will be a meeting of the specialists who will be treating me directly, along with a host of other experts from various disciplines. They will go over every aspect of my condition, and then finalize the course of action.
This particular meeting is out of the norm for a couple of reasons. One is that the Chief of Surgery will be doing the presentation himself. I’m told that he normally assigns these presentations to the surgeons.
The other reason is that the oncologist will be attending. He told me he normally doesn’t attend these meetings, but wants to this time because of his personal interest in my case. I love the feeling of having all of these guys fully on board with me.
Once the Tumor Board makes its determinations, it will just be a matter of execution.
Sometime in the next week or two the oncologist will assume the position of team leader – what I like to call the “point man.” All of the other physicians will then begin coordinating their efforts through him.
October 19:
I met with the gastroenterologist. The purpose of the meeting was to have him do his initial exam and review my records. An intense man. What I would expect a high school Science Club member to grow up to be.
He concurred with everything that’s been determined to date, and we discussed the abdominal ultrasound. He told me that he wants an associate of his who has vast experience with that particular procedure to do the test.
His biggest concern is the lymph nodes near my esophagus. As part of the endoscopy, they’ll be doing some biopsies of them. “Just to be sure,” as he put it.
The Chief of Surgery later called to tell me that the ultrasound is now scheduled for November 6.
Providing the Tumor Board concurs with the present sequencing plan, the surgery will probably take place in mid-November. Oh, boy!
I’m very pleased with how things are going. I have every confidence in my team of world-class experts – both here at UT Southwestern and at UCLA. They are superb in every way imaginable. I am truly blessed to have them.
posted by Explorer of The Universe at 9:36 PM
0 comments
