When I finished chemotherapy on August 26, 2015. I felt rather incredible about this. Both physically as well as psychologically! Little did I know how fleeting this feeling would be.
Just four days later, Sunday August 30, 2015, I was having brunch at home with family and friends. We were shortly to be headed over to participate in my daughter’s bridal shower. That never happened, at least it didn’t for me any way.
After taking my medications, including both insulin injections, I ate a sandwich and a couple of cookies (yes, the cookies were on the no-no list—but it was a special occasion) for lunch. I remember checking my blood sugar; it was 82. That was low, but not awful—or so I thought.
The next thing I knew, I was feeling dizzy and went to sit down. When I was about six inches above the chair, I passed out. As a result, I remember nothing from the time I was almost sitting down until I woke up in the hospital. One of my friends (Marc) was a paramedic, and he rode in the ambulance with me. Friends Jed and Seth followed us. Later on, my friends told me that my blood sugar level hit around 30 while I was in the ambulance.
Another close call for the world’s luckiest man.
After a couple of days, I was discharged from the hospital, and cleared to resume my normal activities. So, I returned to Hofstra and taught my first post- surgery class on September 2, when fall classes began. This made me happy and aided my self-esteem.
But I started feeling back pains and had an MRI to check things out. Because of the chemotherapy, my spine had gotten more brittle and I developed osteoporosis. That meant that my fall had caused a back injury. According to the MRI: “1) Sclerotic appearance to multiple lower thoracic and lumbar vertebrae. 2) Sclerotic lesion vertebral body of L2 with compression deformity of inferior end-plate with approximately 15% reduction of height, suggestive of metastatic disease.” Huh? Again, I am not an MD. But it sure sounded pretty creepy though. Right?
I was promptly referred to an interventional radiologist for a consultation. I had never heard of that specialty before. As Johns Hopkins defines it: “Interventional radiology is a medical sub-specialty utilizing minimally- invasive image-guided procedures to diagnose and treat diseases in nearly every organ system.” Another adventure, but not so bad this time.
It was agreed that I would have a procedure whereby the compression in my lower back would be reduced by inserting cement between the two affected vertebrae.
This was a brief technique done under local anesthetic. It was a big success.
Two anecdotes here—one serious, the other more humorous. The first one: There are many reasons why a lot of people don’t like medical insurance companies. In my case, it was the insurer’s initial denial of approval for the needed back procedure. According to the insurer, the pain would pass without any intervention. This was despite my specialist’s telling the insurance doctor that I really needed the procedure. Finally, 15 minutes before the procedure was due to start, my specialist received approval. Then I was wheeled into the OR. Thank you Dr. Kenny Lien for going the extra mile for your patients. Boo to insurance companies that feel the power to overrule specialists in the field.
The humorous anecdote: When I got into the OR, Dr. Lien explained what he was going to do. I would get a strong local anesthetic in my lower back. Then he told me that he would use a tiny hammer (which he showed me) to make a small hole in my back so he could insert the cement. I don’t know why, but I thought that was pretty funny.
Once my back was numb, I heard a light tapping sound. I didn’t feel anything. But I started laughing. Why? There I was listening to a hammer banging in MY lower back.
Dr. Lien then stated that because the compression in my back was extensive, he would have to use his little hammer to create a second hole. Ten minutes later I was in recovery. And soon after, I returned home—rather pain free.
Here is the motivation aspect related to my back problem. Because I had to miss virtually the full spring 2015 semester, I was HIGHLY motivated to not miss any further classes relating to any other health issues. So, the back procedure was done on Tuesday September 22, 2015, and I actually taught my class on Wednesday September 23, 2015. I was sore and had to sit for the full the class. But I got another big psychological boost by teaching. Despite some discomfort, I never did miss a class that semester. Again, being upbeat is a choice and a blessing. [And I did not miss any classes for health reasons up to my March 2019 retirement.]
Having the procedure on September 22, 2015 gave me one month to build myself up for the October 24, 2015 wedding. This was one more motivator.
During and after chemotherapy (and to the present time), I returned to being a voracious reader of novels. Before then, I had drifted away from novels due to a focus on business newspapers, professional magazines, and journal articles for my reading. And that was not very pleasant reading; it was part of my academic life.
But with all the down time that I had with the chemo treatments, I was able to re-discover the joy of reading books. As with meditation, for me, pleasure reading helps block out negative thoughts.
What do I like reading? Unlike a lot of my peers, I’m not big on non-fiction books. To me, there is enough non- fiction in life. I read detective stories, spy novels, and legal thrillers, among other topics.
Also, it has been a lot of fun to discover unknown authors. For $2 to $4 per E-book, I have found many such authors. I am a particular fan of “boxed sets,” whereby the same characters carry over from book to book. With one such character, I have read twelve novels [seventeen as of summer 2020] in the series. I appreciate the continuity of those characters.
Ponder this: Yes, the big-name authors often write good stuff and sell a huge number of books. Yet, lesser-known authors also often turn out their own outstanding books. So, pick a $2 book with many four-star reviews and be exposed to a whole different universe of authors. Give the little guy or gal a chance.
After chemotherapy, another big challenge for me was settling into a consistent routine, given that so many physical changes in me had occurred. However, my community remained quite strong and an integral part of my life.
Following are several examples of the adjustments I had to make for my “new” normal life.
What was I going to do on a typical day? I tried to set up a routine whereby I read the daily newspapers, ate breakfast, went up to my home office to work on my blogs and engage in E-mail, and then took a break before lunch. After lunch, I would return to my home office for a while. And almost every day, I took a nap before dinner.[Although sometimes I would nap upon completing breakfast.] After dinner, I would typically read a novel for two to three hours. That’s how I finish reading multiple books each week.
When would I take my medications? The meds for me were spaced out over the day, with pretty much the same meds being taken every day. Except for my insulin, I would always take the same dosage for all medications. And they would be divided among breakfast time, lunch time, dinner time, and bed time. Although my insulin was also injected then, the dosage would vary, based on my blood sugar level. I also learned that I needed a higher dose of insulin with breakfast. As noted before, in my individual case, there would otherwise be a spike between breakfast and lunch.
What would I eat? I must admit that early on my diet was pretty limited. This was not because of too many restrictions. Rather, while I became educated about nutrition and food ingredients, I stuck to a very simple food regimen. It made me feel comfortable that I was eating the right things. For dinner, I very often had soup with a main course. Vegetables, fish, and salads were the dishes I favored. Note: In making my food choices, I also had to keep in my mind my much smaller stomach and that I was a diabetic with extremely wide fluctuations in blood sugar. I saw a nice nutritionist at NSHOA, who was quite helpful in laying out meal plans and enabling me to learn more about the elements of a good nutrition plan. In addition, I needed to put back some of the weight that I lost from before the time of the surgery through the completion of chemo treatments. It felt different to eat to gain weight, rather than diet to lose it. LOL.
How would I handle the long-term side effects from my surgery? Some side effects diminished greatly over time, such as my throwing up. This became a rare occurrence. Other side effects will always be with me, such the tightness in my abdomen and the osteoporosis. Five-and-a-half years later, I still take meds for the nausea and digestive issues. Nonetheless, the bottom line is my life is pretty normal for someone my age. I can do many of the things I could previously. And ce’st la vie (it is what it is) for the things I can’t do. As I have stated before, I see no value in crying over spilt milk. I am happy for what I am able to do, rather than upset over the things that I cannot do. For all of us, happiness truly is a choice. So, remember, please choose happiness over sadness!!!
What kind of social life would Linda and I have? The lack of a social life while I was sickest was not easy to deal with. I felt—and still feel—badly for Linda. Not only did she to have to be a caregiver and to worry about me, Linda was a virtual prisoner in our house—except for going to work. Since I was so tired during and right after the chemo treatments, I wasn’t physically able to get out of the house much. And if we went out to dinner, I inevitably became nauseous. Too many times, we had to cancel out on our friends because I wasn’t feeling well. Thankfully, over time, Linda and I were able to get out more—even to see Broadway shows. Thank you Linda for persevering with me.
How would I exercise? Before my surgery, I had become something of a gym rat. At age 50+, I lifted weights for the first in my life. I worked with a trainer twice a week for about a decade. I could leg press 400 pounds. My typical workout was between 1.5 and 2 hours. All of this made me feel terrific in both the body and the soul.
As a result of surgery, my exercise routine changed dramatically. [Note: My exercise routine in the summer of 2020 has evolved. That is discussed later in the new chapter of the book.] When the 2018 edition of the book came out, I was restricting myself to 10-lb. dumbbells. I no longer worked with a trainer, as I didn’t know when I would not feel well, and I really hated cancelling my appointments. Yet, there was also very good news. I still went to the gym, but more spontaneously. I worked with an elliptical machine and the exercise bicycle. I did leg lefts, and lots of stretches. I walked the track. Yes, it would have been nice to still play tennis and golf, but I have