This is a follow up to a GUS diary I posted on 31 Dec 2009. At that time, she had been diagnosed with cancer and was planning to start painful courses of radiation and chemotherapy. They worked for a while. My hope is that this post will help someone in the GUS community. I know nicotine is more addictive than cocaine, and I have no idea just how obscenely difficult it is for people to stop. One of my friends was helped by acupuncture, another by hypnosis. All I can say is try whatever works to break the habit.
I have a problem with alcohol, but it’s not a full-blown addiction. But just last night my patient wife of 49 years and I had a blowup about my drinking and driving, and I have to work and stop doing it, but that’s my problem. For those trying to give up smoking, please try to think about not only the damage done to yourselves, but to those around you who will grieve over your death and who will be left thinking and wishing they could have done more to make you stop. You will also leave behind a legacy of second-hand smoke, which can also be deadly for your family.
J was born in 1948, 18 minutes after her mother entered the hospital. Like she wanted to get on with life as soon as possible. She never got taller than 4 foot 10, and never weighed more than 100 pounds. A ball of fire, fierce brown eyes and blond hair, a funny person to be with, and a great athlete. I knew her since she was 5 years old, and watched her die. My wife was her surrogate mother, and virtually raised Jeanne for the first 7 years of her life, because their mother was an alcoholic. She was really bright, and was lucky enough to get a job with AT&T, with a good salary and benefits. Sadly, she picked guys who were losers as partners. One left her, and the other died in a dumpster, fighting with another wino over a piece of chicken. She still had two great sons who supported her up to the end.
J had her first cigarette when she was about 10, and smoked at least a pack a day for 50 years. I want to kill the guy who gave her the first cigarette, but he probably died of cancer years ago. She had no symptoms from what was cannibalizing her lung, no shortness of breath or energy loss. The only time she had been to doctors was when her kids were born. The problem first surfaced in October 2009 when a little thug shoved her into a seat of a school bus she worked on as a monitor (he is now in jail on unrelated assault charges).
She went to a local hospital complaining of lower back pain, and they took an X-ray of her thoracic and lumbar vertebrae. The radiologist reading the films concentrated on the lumbar spine and noted no fracture. He ordered a CT scan, but the insurance company refused because the initial diagnosis was a back sprain. She was given 6 weeks of physical therapy, which made things worse. She was in agony and couldn’t walk.
Finally the CT scan was accepted by insurance in November 2009. The results showed fractures in two thoracic vertebrae, and worse, a large, fist-sized mass in her right lung. Chemo and radiation were out of the question because of the extensive Collateral damage, so a surgeon recommended repairing her back first. Surgery was a great success, as they bolted her spine back together by December 2009.
The CT scan was examined by a pulmonologist, who was the best of the physicians who treated her. The oncologist was brutally frank in his assessment of her chances, and said flat out the cancer will kill her; it couldn’t be cured, but she could concentrate on quality of life issues. Her primary doctor was out of his depth at all levels, and just mouthed encouraging words. The radiology centers misspelled her name 2 different ways on the CT scans and X-rays, and we had a helluva time locating the results. Her pharmacy also spelled her name wrong at least twice, and once sent me home with a bottle of Methadone, instead of J’s pain meds.
After recovering for the operation, she was given a succession of radiation treatments through March 2010, which left her throat seared so much that she had trouble swallowing. When the radiation was done, they put J on a bunch of newer chemotherapy agents through June 2010 that allegedly didn’t cause hair loss or digestive problems. Not true. If you look at the literature on any chemo agents, you find their effectiveness in reducing or eliminating cancerous growths hovers around 10 percent. Oncologists will bump up the results to 25-30 percent, but that’s wishful thinking.
She started improving during the summer of 2010 and my wife and I got her to stay at her favorite vacations spots, which she enjoyed immensely. She was too weak to run into the surf, but enjoyed sitting on the beach chatting with us about the good times we all had. Walking long distances was a problem, as was climbing steps, but she never complained.
Another CT scan in October 2010 showed the lung tumor had almost disappeared (one chemo drug worked), but she had some spots on her liver, and her back vertebrae showed new anomalies. Bone biopsies showed the easily recognizable lung cancer cells, which are quite large compared to other normal cells, so they stand out under the microscope. The cancer had metastasized, and the typical sequence is bone, liver, and brain. She had an appointment with her oncologist in early November 2010, and she said she expected bad news. The day before the visit, she collapsed in her house, with an apparent stroke. One of her sons was there, and she was taken to the ER, and kept overnight.
They discharged her the next day, saying it may not have been a stroke, and she was sent home. There appeared to be some improvement, and we all felt good. Results of a recent blood test came in with bad news. Her blood platelets, normally ranging around 200,000 per microliter, came back a level of 5. Not a misprint. With the cancer in her bone marrow she was not producing any new platelets or red cells. Because platelets aid in blood clotting, their loss meant she could develop serious bleeds at any time. She got a platelet transfusion, which pushed things close to normal, but the level started dropping a week later.
We went to visit her for a couple of days in the middle of November, and she was as spunky and high-spirited as ever. We said goodbye, she spoke to my wife on the phone that evening, and they said they loved one another. Next day, as we drove home, she collapsed again and went into a coma, from which she never recovered, and died in her sleep.
At the funeral service, I read a eulogy I wrote and could barely finish it, breaking down at the end. I loved her and will miss her good humor, her smile, her energy, and her great outlook on life.
My wife is still devastated, and to make matters worse, J’s cousin, younger than her, discovered she has two lung tumors, which have been growing for the past 3 months. She was a non-smoker, but grew up in a house where her father, brother, and older sisters smoked. She was a passive smoker since birth. Looks like we’re going to go through this all over again.
Sorry for the long post, but I had to write this down. Please stop smoking. My best wishes to all of you.