Chemo-Sabe

It’s been a whirlwind of appointments over the past few days: Chemo Education Day, a PET scan, and the first round of chemotherapy. I’m not sure walking into these clinics will ever get easier, especially when we're surrounded by patients who are often much older. We're all there unwillingly, facing something we never asked for, but I can’t help feeling a pang of envy watching some of them sit with their partners in their 70s or 80s. And then there’s us—just 41.

Chemo Education Day meant another trip back to the dreaded Abbott, this time to learn the ins and outs of chemotherapy. Upon arrival, we were handed an iPad and asked to watch a 40-minute informational video, narrated by a woman who would give Morgan Freeman a run for his money. Her voice was calming, so calming that Phillip fell asleep. Finally, we were called back to a room, where we were simply told to continue watching the same video. Thirty-five minutes later, a nurse finally came in… only to repeat everything we had just watched. For those who know Phillip, you can imagine how this tested his no-nonsense personality. Let’s just say it was a true exercise in patience.

The re-scheduled PET scan went off without any issues and Phillip took a nice rest in the back of a semi-trailer parked next to the hospital on Saturday morning.

Thanks to the substance they infused into his bloodstream for the scan, the nurses informed us that Phillip would be technically radioactive for the next six hours. Naturally, the only appropriate response was to blast “Radioactive” by Imagine Dragons on the drive home. Sometimes, you just have to lean into the moment.

Today, Phillip began his first round of chemotherapy, which meant five hours of infusions at the clinic. He settled into a cozy corner of the “Infusion Suite," a place that, despite the fancy name, doesn’t accept credit card points or come with any perks. No lounge music or specialty cookies, just IV bags and fluorescent lighting. Every twenty minutes I would hear the sound of a cat "meow" and my crazy cat lady ears would perk up thinking there was a therapy cat in the "Infusion Suite." Disappointingly, we learned it is just the sound the nurses chose to alert them when medications are done mixing. After the infusions, a chemo pump was connected to Phillip’s port, delivering additional medication over the next two days. To carry it around, he was given what can only be described as a knockoff Lululemon cross-body bag. It's functional, but not exactly the fashion accessory we imagined he would be wearing this summer.

Phillip was an absolute champ today, and I couldn't be prouder of him. There's a strange sense of relief in knowing the fight has finally begun. For the past three weeks, all I could think about were the unwelcome imposters inside his body, quietly threatening to take over. But today, we took the first real step in pushing back.

In addition to the medicine being pumped through his body, I have started the deep dive into researching gut biome and its impact on cancer. I have a couple of amazing friends in the nutrition world and both have provided great insight and knowledge on the impact of diet and cancer. Check out this article published by The National Library of Medicine: The Ketogenic Diet in Colon Cancer: A Means to an End https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9965563/

During our first meeting with Dr. Tatineni, she shared something that’s stuck with me: the medical world is seeing such a sharp rise in colon cancer diagnoses among young people that they’re on the verge of calling it an epidemic. This is terrifying because they have yet to pinpoint the root cause...But one can only guess processed foods are a factor.

While the unknowns are overwhelming and the road ahead is long, today felt like a small but powerful victory. We showed up. We took action. And we’re not sitting back quietly.

I’ll continue learning, researching, and leaning on the people who are walking this path with us, because knowledge is power, and support is everything.

Thanks for being here with us.