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Brain Tumors
I remember the scene in Kindergarten Cop with Arnold Schwarzenegger where a little boy tells Arnold that he probably has a tumor.
"It's NOT a Toom- A!" Well, sometimes it is.
Senator Ted Kennedy passed away yesterday from brain cancer - a glioblastoma, considered one of the most difficult tumors to treat. One of my best friends, George, was diagnosed with this same tumor about five months ago. He calls it "The Big Kahuna - The Mother of All Tumors". As you might imagine, George has been following Ted Kennedy's cancer fight closely. Kennedy seemed to be doing so good in the beginning, that his progress was an inspiration to my friend. He would tell his doctors, "I want the same treatment that Ted Kennedy is getting."
Like Senator Kennedy, he has been fighting his HMO for the best care. When he woke up one day, his only sign of his occult mass was his inability to remember words. All that came out of his mouth was a meaningless word - "Perkis". Thinking this was a sign of a stroke; his wife gave him some aspirin and called us. Obviously, we had her call 911 to get him to the hospital - STAT. A CT scan was ordered and the mass was quickly spotted. A day or so later, he had brain surgery to remove as much of the tumor as they could. Of course, this is not the full story. George had another tumor, a smaller one that was initially missed. This second tumor is the real trouble-maker right now.
It took nearly a month before he was finally started on radiation and chemotherapy. The radiation course has been completed, and he is now on this second, even stronger, round of chemotherapy. Sadly, this second tumor disqualified him for some promising experimental drugs, and more recently, the location of this second tumor, disqualified him for gamma knife treatment. His oncologists are hitting his brain cancer with round after round of potent chemotherapy agents. His most recent MRI showed that the second tumor has not increased in size - a somewhat promising sign if there really can be such a thing with this diagnosis.
When I heard the news about Senator Kennedy's death last night, my heart went out the Kennedy family, but more so, my heart went out to George and his family. Cancer victims are inspired by survivors, so I know this news will be devastating to more than just the Kennedys and our country.
George is a recently-retired university professor - a brilliant man in all respects. He can converse on just about any subject, including the medical management of glioblastomas. I am sure that he never anticipated doing research in this fringe area five months ago.
George has lost some (not all) of his Sasquatch hair. He is now wearing a hat that he found at the local hardware store that has a large crop of fake hair on the top. Like me; he has a full beard. For some reason, the chemotherapy has not affected his facial hair. The chemo is kicking his butt most of the time, so he is sleeping more, and tends to be rummy after those long naps. However, he is still the same 'ol George with a great sense of humor and a love of life. Of course, as an intellectual and realist, he knows that his life is threatened.
George is spending as much time as he can with his four (adult) children and his four grandchildren. There are get-togethers of some sort nearly every weekend - 4th of July parties, Mexican fiestas, birthday bashes, etc. You name it. George planted his annual vegetable garden with his grandson, Connor, this year. Connor eats most of the tomatoes, as soon as they are ripe.
George loves good food and fine wine. He is a member of a wine co-op and has done his share of grape-stomping over the years. His wine collection is now sitting idle. Wine is not on his "cancer diet". Also banned is red meat, with the exception of lamb (his favorite). A few weeks ago at a dinner at our house, I gave him his fill of New Zealand lamb chops, marinated and grilled to perfection, I might add.
As I write this blog post, I look out at a 12-foot high, hand-carved wooden giraffe standing in my yard. A few years ago, while we were on vacation, George drove a few hundred miles to buy it, and then installed it in my yard. We came home at night, so we didn't see it. The next morning, while I was drinking my coffee, I was startled to see a giraffe staring at me. George and his wife, Claudia, always considered our place to be "in the jungle", and you really can't have jungle without a giraffe.
If I ever have to face a serious health crisis, I hope that I do it with George's attitude and conviction. Ever since I received a letter from John F. Kennedy at age 12 (I wrote him a letter and he responded), I have been a Kennedy watcher and admirer. Our country is blessed with some extraordinary leaders, but sometimes, seemingly ordinary people do extraordinary things. George is, and will always be, my personal inspiration. Life is so precious that not one moment should be wasted. When your life is threatened by a serious health crisis, each and every day becomes even more golden.
We are but a dash in life. We are born on a certain date and some day we will all die. A little dash (-) will appear between those dates indicating the entire span of our short time on Earth. So, while we are alive, we need to do our best to make our precious dash really count.
Related Topics:
"It's NOT a Toom- A!" Well, sometimes it is.
Senator Ted Kennedy passed away yesterday from brain cancer - a glioblastoma, considered one of the most difficult tumors to treat. One of my best friends, George, was diagnosed with this same tumor about five months ago. He calls it "The Big Kahuna - The Mother of All Tumors". As you might imagine, George has been following Ted Kennedy's cancer fight closely. Kennedy seemed to be doing so good in the beginning, that his progress was an inspiration to my friend. He would tell his doctors, "I want the same treatment that Ted Kennedy is getting."
Like Senator Kennedy, he has been fighting his HMO for the best care. When he woke up one day, his only sign of his occult mass was his inability to remember words. All that came out of his mouth was a meaningless word - "Perkis". Thinking this was a sign of a stroke; his wife gave him some aspirin and called us. Obviously, we had her call 911 to get him to the hospital - STAT. A CT scan was ordered and the mass was quickly spotted. A day or so later, he had brain surgery to remove as much of the tumor as they could. Of course, this is not the full story. George had another tumor, a smaller one that was initially missed. This second tumor is the real trouble-maker right now.
It took nearly a month before he was finally started on radiation and chemotherapy. The radiation course has been completed, and he is now on this second, even stronger, round of chemotherapy. Sadly, this second tumor disqualified him for some promising experimental drugs, and more recently, the location of this second tumor, disqualified him for gamma knife treatment. His oncologists are hitting his brain cancer with round after round of potent chemotherapy agents. His most recent MRI showed that the second tumor has not increased in size - a somewhat promising sign if there really can be such a thing with this diagnosis.
When I heard the news about Senator Kennedy's death last night, my heart went out the Kennedy family, but more so, my heart went out to George and his family. Cancer victims are inspired by survivors, so I know this news will be devastating to more than just the Kennedys and our country.
George is a recently-retired university professor - a brilliant man in all respects. He can converse on just about any subject, including the medical management of glioblastomas. I am sure that he never anticipated doing research in this fringe area five months ago.
George has lost some (not all) of his Sasquatch hair. He is now wearing a hat that he found at the local hardware store that has a large crop of fake hair on the top. Like me; he has a full beard. For some reason, the chemotherapy has not affected his facial hair. The chemo is kicking his butt most of the time, so he is sleeping more, and tends to be rummy after those long naps. However, he is still the same 'ol George with a great sense of humor and a love of life. Of course, as an intellectual and realist, he knows that his life is threatened.
George is spending as much time as he can with his four (adult) children and his four grandchildren. There are get-togethers of some sort nearly every weekend - 4th of July parties, Mexican fiestas, birthday bashes, etc. You name it. George planted his annual vegetable garden with his grandson, Connor, this year. Connor eats most of the tomatoes, as soon as they are ripe.
George loves good food and fine wine. He is a member of a wine co-op and has done his share of grape-stomping over the years. His wine collection is now sitting idle. Wine is not on his "cancer diet". Also banned is red meat, with the exception of lamb (his favorite). A few weeks ago at a dinner at our house, I gave him his fill of New Zealand lamb chops, marinated and grilled to perfection, I might add.
As I write this blog post, I look out at a 12-foot high, hand-carved wooden giraffe standing in my yard. A few years ago, while we were on vacation, George drove a few hundred miles to buy it, and then installed it in my yard. We came home at night, so we didn't see it. The next morning, while I was drinking my coffee, I was startled to see a giraffe staring at me. George and his wife, Claudia, always considered our place to be "in the jungle", and you really can't have jungle without a giraffe.
If I ever have to face a serious health crisis, I hope that I do it with George's attitude and conviction. Ever since I received a letter from John F. Kennedy at age 12 (I wrote him a letter and he responded), I have been a Kennedy watcher and admirer. Our country is blessed with some extraordinary leaders, but sometimes, seemingly ordinary people do extraordinary things. George is, and will always be, my personal inspiration. Life is so precious that not one moment should be wasted. When your life is threatened by a serious health crisis, each and every day becomes even more golden.
We are but a dash in life. We are born on a certain date and some day we will all die. A little dash (-) will appear between those dates indicating the entire span of our short time on Earth. So, while we are alive, we need to do our best to make our precious dash really count.
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- Cancer Support: Tips for Family and Friends
- Ear, Nose & Throat Message Board with Rod Moser, PA, PhD
- Living Better Newsletter - Wellness news to keep you healthy and strong!
Labels: brain, cancer, health and wellness, Kennedy
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