I woke up from my coma on July 16, 2010. I had breathing tubes down my throat and for that reason I could not talk. The tubes came out a couple days later and to my surprise I still couldn't really talk. My mouth would move but very few words could be heard. It was uncertain what caused this and when I would regain my voice. Some doctors said it was the tumor that caused it, others would not say. It was real frustrating to try and talk when no one could hear, or for that matter even understand, what I was trying to say.
This went on for weeks. I had numerous scopes down my throat and they kept saying the same thing. Your left vocal chord is not working right but it should come back. It SHOULD come back? When? As the weeks turned to months my voice was only getting slightly stronger. I could now hold a conversation with someone next to me or even on the phone, which was comforting since for the first few months I couldn't, but I wanted to be Brad again. I wanted to be able to hold a conversation with someone in a crowded place, and I wanted to help coach with my brother. But with the way my voice was this was not going to happen. Finally after seven months I was able to get an appointment with a doctor who handles voice and throat problems. He was considered one of the best in the area.
So on February 9th I went and visited Doctor Zalvan and received some real comforting news regarding my voice. For the first time in seven months I actually got an answer as to what's going on with it. One of my vocal chords is paralysed. Hearing that diagnosis, one may think that that does not sound very promising, but from what I am being told it is easily fixed with certain injections or, worst case scenario, surgery. Either way I'll take it.
I went back again on the 14th to have a needle test to figure out if I have nerve damage, and whether or not it's permanent. If the results show it is slowly healing then I will have a temporary injection in my vocal chord to make it function correctly til it is fully healed. If they show permanent nerve damage then I will have to have a permanent piece attached to my vocal chord to make the chord seem normal. According to the test results, there is still nerve function, so on March 1st I go for the temporary injection. If all goes well, in less than 2 weeks I will hear my voice again for the first time in eight months.
It's so strange because I don't remember what my voice sounds like. It will be great just to be able to hold conversations in a crowded room without losing my breathe and having to repeat everything multiple times. Baby steps is what I am trying to remember though. So far so good. Just knowing that there is light (and a voice) at the end of the tunnel is great to hear.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Building Yourself Back Up
Before I was sick and in the hospital being physically fit was extremely important to me. The things I went through made that even more important than ever. Granted I was thrown a curve ball with how cancer truly affected my body. Most of the time people going through treatment will lose weight and some muscle. I unfortunately lost about twenty five pounds and every ounce of muscle. It was real hard to look in the mirror and see not a single piece of muscle on my body. I wanted to do whatever I could to get in shape.
From the moment I was allowed out of my hospital bed I did whatever I could do for exercise, which consisted mostly of walking the floor. There would be times at like six in the morning I would wake up and just start walking. Now, I wasn't walking half miles, I was only walking like four hundred feet but to me it was miles. After I would get done I would lay back in bed because that small walk would take so much out of me. I would do different isometric exercises to try and build muscle as well.
When I was finally home I wanted to get back into the gym, but that was way out of the question. So it was up to me to do whatever I could around my place to get a workout in. I remember trying to do a push up one day and not even being able to do one. It was so depressing to see what had happened to my body. But I knew that I would get it back one day. I would take it slow trying to do one push up then two and so on. It didn't happen overnight. It took weeks before I was able to do five in a row. But I can remember doing it and feeling like I was Rocky after he beat Ivan Drago. It was amazing.
I was slowly becoming me again. I would read stories of how people would jog, go to work, and bike during their treatments and that drove me even more. I wanted to be just like them, but at this point I was glad that I was at least taking walks. Through this whole process I was forced into the mind-set of baby steps. I wanted to go faster than I was going but I had to accept what was smart and what wasn't.
Five months out was when I was finally back in the gym. It was a great feeling and also a sad realization of how weak my body had become. I remember using the leg press and only being able to lift 90lbs, and benching and only being able to lift the bar. These numbers were unacceptable to me, but it didn't stop me. I kept track of what exercises I would do and how much I would lift. Each week I would try to increase how much I would lift and if I couldn't I would try again the next week. It was a slow process but after about six weeks I was probably at sixty percent, which was pretty good for me.
At the very beginning, I would look at pictures of what my body looked liked during the third week of chemo and compare it to what I currently looked like to see the progress I was making. It will probably take a year to get where I want to be but as long as my steps are going forward and not backwards that is all that matters. Getting back into shape after such trauma is never easy. The key is to take small steps. Keep track of what you are doing, whether it's running, lifting, or walking so you can see the progress. It's understandable that you want to be back to normal but that will come in time. Don't push yourself too hard; listen to your body. Your body will tell you real quick what you can and can't do. Remember it's okay if it takes a couple of months or even a year to get back into shape. Your body just went through a lot and will not come back overnight. And also talk to your doctors before you start doing things that may interfere with or affect your body.
From the moment I was allowed out of my hospital bed I did whatever I could do for exercise, which consisted mostly of walking the floor. There would be times at like six in the morning I would wake up and just start walking. Now, I wasn't walking half miles, I was only walking like four hundred feet but to me it was miles. After I would get done I would lay back in bed because that small walk would take so much out of me. I would do different isometric exercises to try and build muscle as well.
When I was finally home I wanted to get back into the gym, but that was way out of the question. So it was up to me to do whatever I could around my place to get a workout in. I remember trying to do a push up one day and not even being able to do one. It was so depressing to see what had happened to my body. But I knew that I would get it back one day. I would take it slow trying to do one push up then two and so on. It didn't happen overnight. It took weeks before I was able to do five in a row. But I can remember doing it and feeling like I was Rocky after he beat Ivan Drago. It was amazing.
I was slowly becoming me again. I would read stories of how people would jog, go to work, and bike during their treatments and that drove me even more. I wanted to be just like them, but at this point I was glad that I was at least taking walks. Through this whole process I was forced into the mind-set of baby steps. I wanted to go faster than I was going but I had to accept what was smart and what wasn't.
Five months out was when I was finally back in the gym. It was a great feeling and also a sad realization of how weak my body had become. I remember using the leg press and only being able to lift 90lbs, and benching and only being able to lift the bar. These numbers were unacceptable to me, but it didn't stop me. I kept track of what exercises I would do and how much I would lift. Each week I would try to increase how much I would lift and if I couldn't I would try again the next week. It was a slow process but after about six weeks I was probably at sixty percent, which was pretty good for me.
At the very beginning, I would look at pictures of what my body looked liked during the third week of chemo and compare it to what I currently looked like to see the progress I was making. It will probably take a year to get where I want to be but as long as my steps are going forward and not backwards that is all that matters. Getting back into shape after such trauma is never easy. The key is to take small steps. Keep track of what you are doing, whether it's running, lifting, or walking so you can see the progress. It's understandable that you want to be back to normal but that will come in time. Don't push yourself too hard; listen to your body. Your body will tell you real quick what you can and can't do. Remember it's okay if it takes a couple of months or even a year to get back into shape. Your body just went through a lot and will not come back overnight. And also talk to your doctors before you start doing things that may interfere with or affect your body.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
A Necessary Evil
According to medical dictionaries, chemotherapy is "the treatment of disease, especially cancer, using drugs that are toxic chemical agents that are destructive to malignant cells and tissues." Now anything that uses toxic chemicals and is destructive to tissues can't be the greatest thing for the body, but it is way better than the alternative.
Each type of cancer will have a different regime of chemotherapy and every person may react to that regime differently. I can only explain how mine affected me. I was given two different chemo drugs: cisplatin and etoposide. To give you a better idea of how strong these chemicals are only specially trained people are allowed to handle them, and with the etoposide they have to wear special gloves when handling the bags.
I would sit or lay down in this small cramped room with four other people for atleast seven hours a day for five days. Sometimes I would have to recieve blood tranfusions because the chemo would affect my platelet count. On those days I would be there for over nine hours. The chemo literally beats you down. It affects all aspects of your body from your white count which controls you immune system, your platelets which is your energy, to things like losing your hair. This is where knowledge comes in hand. The internet is full of information on different things you can eat to bring up your counts, and even different techniques to help your hair grow quicker.
I also experienced nausea during my three months of chemotherapy. Granted in this day in age, with all of the medicine that is out there, this is not as common as it was ten years ago but it does still happen. I just sucked it up and figured it could be worse. My mom, however, was not as easy going as I was. She worked with the staff at the hospital to find me the most effective drugs to stop the nausea. Some rounds were better than others, but unfortunately, there was never one without the nausea completely. As hard as it may be to believe, this was actually not the toughest thing for me to deal with during my treatment.
There were two things that were hardest for me during my months of chemo. The first was not having any energy whatsoever. I could not come to terms with the reality of having to just lay around because I didn't have the energy to do anything else. I would just sleep and lay on the couch and not really ever get up. I am the type of person that was always doing something. Relaxing was not really something I did so you can understand why it was so hard.
The other thing that was very hard for me to deal with was the way I recieved my chemotherapy. Like I said in an earlier post, I made the decision to get my chemo through IVs. I made this choice because I was vain and I didn't want a port in my chest because of how it would look. I figured since I had great veins that were huge, and all throughout my arms, I would have no problem doing IV therapy. I could not have been more wrong. I didn't realize how strong the chemo was and the effects it would have on my veins. I watched them go from monster veins to almost non-existent. To make it worse all this happened by my third round of chemo and I still had three to go.
This was a big problem because my veins had shrunk and now I had to slow down the rate the chemo was going into my body and that meant longer days. Also if the flow of the chemo became too quick it would blow out the vein and infuse into the skin which is no good at all. At that point they would have to stop everything and re-stick me with another IV. With my veins being so bad it was incredibly hard to find one and now I was getting stuck several times a day. It got to a point near the end that I was praying and talking to my veins, begging that they make it through the day so I would not have to get stuck again. To me my veins became like little warriors, they had to survive a day or two and then I would pick another vein to take over. To this day, four months after I finished my chemo, my veins are still not back and some are completely damaged, but it was worth it in the end.
Chemotherapy is not fun at all and that should be expected because the main job of it is to kill the cancer. The healthy cells are just causualties of war. If I was ever in the position of having to go through chemo again I would not hesitate, but I would be a little smarter and go with a port. The pain of IV therapy will never be worth the vanity of having to walk around with a port. Like everything that goes along with battling cancer, a strong and solid mindset will make things a little easier.
Each type of cancer will have a different regime of chemotherapy and every person may react to that regime differently. I can only explain how mine affected me. I was given two different chemo drugs: cisplatin and etoposide. To give you a better idea of how strong these chemicals are only specially trained people are allowed to handle them, and with the etoposide they have to wear special gloves when handling the bags.
I would sit or lay down in this small cramped room with four other people for atleast seven hours a day for five days. Sometimes I would have to recieve blood tranfusions because the chemo would affect my platelet count. On those days I would be there for over nine hours. The chemo literally beats you down. It affects all aspects of your body from your white count which controls you immune system, your platelets which is your energy, to things like losing your hair. This is where knowledge comes in hand. The internet is full of information on different things you can eat to bring up your counts, and even different techniques to help your hair grow quicker.
I also experienced nausea during my three months of chemotherapy. Granted in this day in age, with all of the medicine that is out there, this is not as common as it was ten years ago but it does still happen. I just sucked it up and figured it could be worse. My mom, however, was not as easy going as I was. She worked with the staff at the hospital to find me the most effective drugs to stop the nausea. Some rounds were better than others, but unfortunately, there was never one without the nausea completely. As hard as it may be to believe, this was actually not the toughest thing for me to deal with during my treatment.
There were two things that were hardest for me during my months of chemo. The first was not having any energy whatsoever. I could not come to terms with the reality of having to just lay around because I didn't have the energy to do anything else. I would just sleep and lay on the couch and not really ever get up. I am the type of person that was always doing something. Relaxing was not really something I did so you can understand why it was so hard.
The other thing that was very hard for me to deal with was the way I recieved my chemotherapy. Like I said in an earlier post, I made the decision to get my chemo through IVs. I made this choice because I was vain and I didn't want a port in my chest because of how it would look. I figured since I had great veins that were huge, and all throughout my arms, I would have no problem doing IV therapy. I could not have been more wrong. I didn't realize how strong the chemo was and the effects it would have on my veins. I watched them go from monster veins to almost non-existent. To make it worse all this happened by my third round of chemo and I still had three to go.
This was a big problem because my veins had shrunk and now I had to slow down the rate the chemo was going into my body and that meant longer days. Also if the flow of the chemo became too quick it would blow out the vein and infuse into the skin which is no good at all. At that point they would have to stop everything and re-stick me with another IV. With my veins being so bad it was incredibly hard to find one and now I was getting stuck several times a day. It got to a point near the end that I was praying and talking to my veins, begging that they make it through the day so I would not have to get stuck again. To me my veins became like little warriors, they had to survive a day or two and then I would pick another vein to take over. To this day, four months after I finished my chemo, my veins are still not back and some are completely damaged, but it was worth it in the end.
Chemotherapy is not fun at all and that should be expected because the main job of it is to kill the cancer. The healthy cells are just causualties of war. If I was ever in the position of having to go through chemo again I would not hesitate, but I would be a little smarter and go with a port. The pain of IV therapy will never be worth the vanity of having to walk around with a port. Like everything that goes along with battling cancer, a strong and solid mindset will make things a little easier.
Friday, February 4, 2011
"You Have Cancer"
These are the scariest words that you may ever hear. I mean how are you supposed to react? All I could do was cry. I cried for like forty minutes non-stop. But then I came to the realization that crying is not going to get rid of it. It was time to develop a game plan. My game plan was to fight this head on. I was taught by my older brother that pain is just weakness leaving your body. He first told me that when I was fourteen. We were running and I had gotten a cramp. He wouldn't let me stop. From that day on I used that thought process with everything that confronted me. Cancer was no different.
I would have to deal with the pain of chemo in order to beat the cancer. Granted my decision to do it through IVs, rather then having a port put in, was probably the dumbest thing I could have done, but I did truly learn how strong my chemo regime was. One of the most important things that helped me get through my treatment was something that I told my friend Doug, who was fighting his own battle with leukemia. I told him, it's okay to cry, we all do it. This isn't an easy journey we must face. Take each day as it comes and if you have to, take it hour by hour. When dealing with the unpredictability of what chemo does to the body, never let it get you down. I told him there are no downs in this journey, sometimes you will hit a plateau for a bit but then come back up. As long as you view everything as a positive then it makes things easier to accept.
Another important thing to remember with cancer is knowledge. The saying "knowledge is power" is more true than ever when facing cancer. The more you learn about the type of cancer you have and the specific treatment you will be receiving, the easier it is to understand how and why your body may feel a certain way. But don't let one thing you read control how you view your outcome. I personally don't care how bad a doctor says something is because no one knows my body except me. In fact things like that drive me, they drive me to prove them wrong. No one can and never will be able to tell me I can't do something. It may just be because that is how I was raised but whatever the reason I am glad that is who I am. It has helped me become the man I am now and drives me to help others facing the same thing I did.
I would have to deal with the pain of chemo in order to beat the cancer. Granted my decision to do it through IVs, rather then having a port put in, was probably the dumbest thing I could have done, but I did truly learn how strong my chemo regime was. One of the most important things that helped me get through my treatment was something that I told my friend Doug, who was fighting his own battle with leukemia. I told him, it's okay to cry, we all do it. This isn't an easy journey we must face. Take each day as it comes and if you have to, take it hour by hour. When dealing with the unpredictability of what chemo does to the body, never let it get you down. I told him there are no downs in this journey, sometimes you will hit a plateau for a bit but then come back up. As long as you view everything as a positive then it makes things easier to accept.
Another important thing to remember with cancer is knowledge. The saying "knowledge is power" is more true than ever when facing cancer. The more you learn about the type of cancer you have and the specific treatment you will be receiving, the easier it is to understand how and why your body may feel a certain way. But don't let one thing you read control how you view your outcome. I personally don't care how bad a doctor says something is because no one knows my body except me. In fact things like that drive me, they drive me to prove them wrong. No one can and never will be able to tell me I can't do something. It may just be because that is how I was raised but whatever the reason I am glad that is who I am. It has helped me become the man I am now and drives me to help others facing the same thing I did.
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