Results of My Treatments: Part Deux

May 30, 2014

Hello, my name is Mike, and I don’t brush my teeth. Well, that’s a lie. I do brush them every couple of weeks or so. Combine that with the gum chewing effects associated with years of dipping a can of Skoal Straight Long Cut everyday in those younger dumber days with my soon to start six months of chemo and I was a bit concerned about losing those front four teeth that so valiantly helped squeeze every ounce of nicotine from my dear, delicious, smokeless tobacco.

On Tuesday I had appointments with four different doctors. I was poked twice. And had my head banged around by powerful magnetic waves.

Bang bang machine

Bang bang machine


The morning started out with an 8:30 MRI appointment. Following the hospital’s favorite form of passive aggressive torture, having my head caged to a table, I was glided into the noisy cylindrical chamber. If you’ve never had an MRI done it’s a bit noisy in there. They give you headphones for ear protection, though. On an even nicer note they do pump Pandora through them! I wasn’t too much of a man to ask for Björk to be played in my headphones. Sorry. Poke number one was a contrast agent shot into my arm allowing the machine to differentiate between good brain (the one I’ve worked so hard on) and bad brain (the treacherous Brainadict Arnold).

They’re ain’t nothing wrong with a 35 year old man who may or may not have a crush on an Icelandic experimental trip-hop singer.

They’re ain’t nothing wrong with a 35 year old man who may or may not have a crush on an Icelandic experimental trip-hop singer.

After the MRI I got jabbed in my other arm. It was the obligatory blood drawing appointment. Not too bad really. I do have a few tattoos if some of you haven’t noticed.

There are three options ranging from “not-so-good,” to “as expected,” to “oh my!” The first would be that the radiation and chemo had done nothing and my tumor continued to stubbornly grow while being bombarded with poisons. This was one of my worries. If I had faired so well during treatments Brainadict Arnold (aka, Bwian) may have faired just as well. There are no guarantees. The second option, “as expected,” would be that the treatments had stopped the tumor in its tracks and halted any further growth. That’s all the treatment is supposed to do, ergo all that can be expected. The third, “oh, my!” is the treatments went one step further and not only stopped tumor growth, but caused the tumor to recede. This option is where the treatments is killing and shrinking the tumor.

Following my blood letting session was finding out the results of my MRI. We meet with all three of my doctors in succession. Dr. Litofsky, my neurosurgeon, was the first up and broke the news to us. “Oh, my!” Well he didn’t really give us the George Takei, but he was about as giddy as I had ever seen the guy. My medical oncologist was next. He was also ecstatic. My radiologist was last in line. He called me remarkable. I admit to being a badass, but being called remarkable, well, that just made me blush.

So, too sum it up, Holly and I had a good day on Tuesday! Not to mention we had a friend in town (a Mr. John Talcott) that we got to have a couple of celebratory drinks with afterward, at least until the cancer-kid started getting all sleepy and grumpy. Come on! It was a long weekend of anticipation and probably a longer day!

And just to bring it back around and end the day with a bigger smile, the kid with the brain cancer who never brushes and chewed more than a cow, was told his teeth, gums, and oral bone structure were some of the healthiest the oral surgeon (4th doctor) had ever seen! I may have cancer but I got a fine set of chompers!

(Please ignore the inordinate amount of inappropriate references that could be made from the above sentence.)





  1. Reblogged this on That Space There.

  2. Oh, my! How sweet! Great to get some good news! I needed it, too! Hope this makes for a good weekend for you and Holly!

    • Thanks Rosie! I hope you’re doing well!

  3. The real question is can we now stick spoons to the side of your head?

    • Tell me how many spoons you want to stick to my dome and I’ll work on an approval note from my doctor.

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