The "C" Word
by Eddie Goldberg
April 2010
Cancer: The "C" Word. It is a single word that will change the course of a life as sure as a tumbled mountain will change the course of a river.
A sore throat and a routine doctor’s visit was the beginning of a journey for Sue Sassman. Two biopsies confirmed their worst fear, esophageal cancer.
Sue has consented to let us accompany her on the journey, and this is installment one. These monthly updates will continue up to, and maybe a little beyond, final treatments.
The Woman
Many people of the Triad are familiar with Sue Sassman. In college, she majored in "never being boring," and she could teach the course. She doesn’t look close to her years. Her passion and sensitivity seem to know no boundaries.
Some of the functions Sue has performed in the many enterprises she has either originated or contributed to are catalyst behind the Woman’s Resource Center and twice yearly the "boss fairy" for the annual Summer Solstice Bazaar. She simply can’t sit still. Before one project has concluded, she is already planning her next move. She is employed with Guilford Medical Equipment as its chief marketing officer and cheerleader. Sue has been married to Jim for 32 years. They have a son, Boomer (just a coincidence), and daughter Carley.
She doesn’t fit the profile for esophageal cancer (elderly black male), but what difference does that make when you have it? Since the diagnosis was confirmed, Sue has made it a point to eat well, take oxygen, drink PH-balanced water, get as much sleep as possible, and she regularly sends email progress reports to all her friends.
The Treatment
Sue said all the doctors agreed that "the best option to tackle this type of cancer is five weeks of radiation (in Greensboro) coupled with four days of chemo on the front and back ends of that time frame. Then, after a month goes by, retest for results." If surgery is deemed necessary, which according to her doctor is pretty much assured, it would take place in early May at the M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston.
Since I was pretty much ignorant about chemotherapy treatment, I have provided the basics. This story is more about the process of treatment rather than the science involved, so if you are looking for a medical explanation, I suggest you go to WebMD and begin your search there.
Chemotherapy is the general term for any treatment involving the use of chemical agents to stop cancer cells from growing. Chemotherapy can eliminate cancer cells at sites great distances from the original cancer. As a result, it is considered a systemic treatment.
Due to the caustic nature of the chemicals, a line is run through Susan’s arm and ends right where blood enters the heart. The heart takes care of distribution. The chemicals are designed to kill the cancer cells, but they cannot tell the difference between cancer and other rapidly growing cells, including hair and blood cells.
Some cancer cells grow slowly while others grow rapidly. As a result, different types of chemotherapy drugs target the growth patterns of specific types of cancer cells. In Susan’s case, she was initially given Cisplatin, and for four days after, F.U. 5 (another chemo drug) was continuously fed via a bag that traveled with her. She said, "I decided early on not to have any side effects from the Chemo therapy," which began at the end of February. In spite of her determination, she did feel the effects.
"Eating anything has been a challenge ... I spend most of my time sleeping, in hopes that I will wake up and be back on track. Nausea has been a rather constant companion, accompanied by mouth sores and headaches. I do keep trying to put fluids in to move the chemo out ... that, too, is challenging."
As highly toxic chemicals are introduced into the body to kill cells, fluids become even more essential. They help clear out the toxins. If swallowing causes excruciating pain… well, you get the idea.
Sue now goes through radiation daily. I visited with Sue during one of her visits to Moses Cone Cancer Center. The exchange was not unlike a normal doctor visit. While the stakes are high, the visit seems routine. The nurse asks many questions regarding how Sue is holding up. They seem to keep track of every symptom and reaction. It only makes sense to track it all, and Sue and her nurse seem to have formed a productive relationship.
Personally, I found it amusing when the oncologist entered the room and began asking the same questions the nurse did. Just like during a regular doctor visit, there are good reasons for this, but all I could think was that some things never change.
Dr. Sherrill and Sue have a similar give and take, discussing weight loss (16 lbs.), different body chemical levels, day-to-day reactions and, in general, how Sue’s body is reacting to treatment. They discuss the immediate and not-so-immediate future, and make plans for the next visit. I sense that every question and every answer tell this doctor something else he needs to know to provide the best treatment possible.
Sue is holding up well at this time. The initial round of chemo is over, and the daily radiation, we all hope, is doing its part. Next month, we should be getting into the second round of chemo, and of course, we’ll keep you updated.
I noticed the invitation to the Summer Solstice Bazaar in my inbox the other day. The woman never stops.