What's your story?
The short version: I'm a quarter-century old. Born in 1985 in Detroit, Michigan. Lived here my entire life. Graduated from Michigan with a degree in Political Science in 2007, with a minor in history (which explains things like "General Sherman as a metaphor for chemo"). In college, I served as Editor-in-Chief of the Michigan Review. The Review was the "conservative" paper on campus (conservative is a relative term in Ann Arbor). This went over about as well as a Jewish newspaper publishing in Riyadh, but it was fun stuff. Was all jazzed to head out to DC for law school but ended up back at Michigan, which was a good decision. During law school I was a member of the Michigan Innocence Clinic, where we provided legal representation to prisoners who we believed were innocent of the crimes for which they were incarcerated. And yes, I wrote for a conservative paper then represented indigent prisoners. I was also a member of the Federalist Society and the ACLU. No, you will not be able to figure out my politics, although I believe they are entirely consistent. I graduated from Michigan Law in May of 2010, took a job to join a law firm in Washington, DC, and was planning to move to DC when my armpit exploded. What type of Lymphoma are you working with?
Lymphomas are complicated. The technical name of my lymphoma is "High-grade diffuse large B-Cell non-Hodgkin's lymphoma with an (8;14) chromosomal translocation." What the hell does all that mean?
The "high-grade" means that my cancer is aggressive. Normally this would be bad, but apparently, high-grade cancers are more treatable. The way my doctor explained this to me: If you are pushing 80, you would prefer a low-grade cancer. It is less treatable, but slower-moving. You get to avoid the nasty side effects of treatment and chances are good that something else is going to get you before the cancer does. But if you're hovering around 30, you would prefer a high-grade cancer that is more responsive to treatment. Yes, the treatment will suck, but you are more able to handle the rigors of chemotherapy and radiation and the like. So...hooray aggressive cancer!The "diffuse large B-Cell non-Hodgkin's lymphoma" part is just your standard, "garden-variety" lymphoma. Non-Hodgin's lymphoma is the 5th most prevalent cancer in the United States, and I have the most common type.
The (8;14) translocation, however, is not very common, and is seen in about 10% of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma patients. It was this little thing that made doctors concerned that I had Burkitt's Lymphoma, which is uncommon here in the US. But a buttload (it's a medical term) of testing on my tissue determined that that was not the case.
What kind of treatment are you receiving?
There are three main types of cancer treatment: surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation. I already had surgery, although it wasn't of the "we need to remove this tumor" variety. The removal of my tumor was actually what is called an "excisional biopsy." I originally had a core needle biopsy (this is where a doctor inserts a hollow needle into an abnormality and extracts a "core sample" of tissue to test) performed on my lump, but that did not give the doctors enough tissue to make an exact diagnosis. So instead of performing a second core needle biopsy, doctors decided to just remove the entire lump.
I'm currently in the middle of chemotherapy. Each treatment is called a "cycle," and I have roughly 14 days between cycles. Chemotherapy most generally refers to "treatment by chemicals." For as big a deal as chemo is, the actual treatment consists of sitting in a chair as various IV bags drain into you. Incredibly anticlimactic stuff.
I'm being treated with the R-CHOP regimen - the standard treatment for my type of lymphoma. During each treatment, I receive 4 drugs through an IV drip (or sometimes a drug or two will be "pumped" in via syringe): Rituximab, Cytoxan, Adriamycin, and Vincristine (the drugs have different names, so they don't always match up with the R-CHOP acryonym). I'm usually given other drugs to prevent reactions and nausea, so the entire process takes 5-6 hours. The last drug - Prednisone - is in pill form, and I take that for 3-4 days following each treatment. I take a number of pills - Valtrex (yes that Valtrex but not for that purpose) and Bactrim to prevent viral and bacterial infections respectively, Allopurinol to help my kidneys deal with the uric acid released when cancer cells are destroyed, and Zofran to prevent nausea. Also, I'm on daily shots of a drug called Neupogen to help regenerate my blood cells, which allows me to undergo treatment at shorter intervals.
As for radiation, as of this writing, that step is still to be determined. While chemotherapy shrinks tumors and kills the microscopic cancer cells, radiation is usually used to prevent relapse at the site of the original tumor. Radiation has side effects, but because my tumor was under my left armpit, the radiation can be aimed away from my organs. The original course of treatment prescribed by my doctor was very flexible in terms of radiation, so this decision will be made down the road.
Why did you start a blog?
A couple of reasons. I really struggled with this decision. I found most "cancer blogs" really sad and depressing because they were all about cancer. Which is fine, because people still want to know how you are doing even if you are suffering. But I didn't want to post things like "I just threw up in a bucket. Here's a picture."The main reason I started the blog was to keep people informed. People care or at least professed to care about me and my progress, so I figured this was easier than mass text message or e-mails or carrier pigeons.
I also write for me. Multiple people, including my doctor, told me to keep a "journal" of my thoughts and jot in it every day or every couple days. I have a ton of thoughts; there's always some sort of something going on in my head. So it's not terribly difficult to come up with content. But it's actually quite nice to have the ability to share what's going on and how I feel about certain things and know there's an engaged audience out there. The more I type here, the less I have to turn over in my own head. And it takes a decent amount of time and effort to maintain this thing, which are things I have loads of right now, since battling cancer involves "resting to allow your body to recuperate before going to sit in a chair for six hours every two weeks."
I write for a third reason, but I didn't really fully understand this reason until a few weeks after my diagnosis, after I heard story after story of friends and family members who have battled cancer. I am 100% convinced that this disease - at least mental toll of cancer - is as hard on friends and family as it is on the patient. The reason: You don't know how I feel, you don't know how you would cope like something like this, you never know how I'm really dealing with all of this, and so on. And I do. I know exactly how I'm feeling, and how I'm coping, and how I'm dealing with this. I was sort of thrust into the whole thing, but I now know. And I really think it makes the situation easier for me than it does for everybody else.
The point: I write because there's a good chance that my readers can derive something positive from my experience. I've heard as much from enough people to know that I can have some sort of effect. And since I'm going to have to deal with the negative effects of this whole experience either way, I might as well do something positive in the process. This blog seems to be the rare thing in the cancer experience in which everybody wins.
What's the deal with the name of the blog?
It, like many other things on the blog, is ripped from the TV show Arrested Development. Arrested Development was a FOX comedy between 2003 and 2006. Despite never achieving great ratings during its run, the show has achieved cult-like status in the latter part of this decade. I started watching in 2007 or so. It contains a lot of that high-brow, make-you-think-for-a-second type of comedy, and I really haven't seen another show like it.
Anyway, in one episode, Gob Bluth tells his brother, Michael Bluth, that he is getting a boat. Michael objects, and tells Gob to "get rid of the seaward," just as Michael and Gob's mother, Lucille Bluth, enters the room. Lucille, assuming Michael's directive was to get rid of the "C-Word," snaps back, "I'll leave when I'm good and ready!" So yeah, double meaning.
Same concept here. Cancer is my seaward. I'm attempting to get rid of it. And there you go.
Anyway, in one episode, Gob Bluth tells his brother, Michael Bluth, that he is getting a boat. Michael objects, and tells Gob to "get rid of the seaward," just as Michael and Gob's mother, Lucille Bluth, enters the room. Lucille, assuming Michael's directive was to get rid of the "C-Word," snaps back, "I'll leave when I'm good and ready!" So yeah, double meaning.
Same concept here. Cancer is my seaward. I'm attempting to get rid of it. And there you go.
How can I contact you?
E-mail is best, at ncheolas@gmail.com. I also accept Facebook messages and checks made out to "cash." If you wish to send me something by mail, e-mail me and I'll give you my address unless you seem like a stalker.