Cancer gives you the opportunity to learn a bunch of interesting words and acronyms. Here are a few that have recently joined my vocabulary.
LP
Those of you old enough to know what a vinyl record is may be under the assumption that an "LP" is a "Long Playing Microgroove Disc" - and that's what I used to think; but up here on East 8 (that's what the cool people call our wing) LP stands for "Lumbar Puncture".
There is a similarity: they both involve a needle. The difference is that one reads music off a disc and the other goes into your spine. The other name for an LP is "Spinal Tap" - which again to avoid misinterpretation is not just a cheesy 80's mockumentary about heavy metal bands - but a procedure to retrieve/inject fluid from/into your spinal column. The good news for me is that my first LP did not show any signs of cancer in my spine.
Hemonc
This is a fun one. I had to keep from laughing at the first doctor that I saw with "HEMONC" on their name badge. To me it sounds like something I would call my little brother to tease him. It actually stands for Hematology/Oncology.
Hematology is the study of blood diseases (what I have) and Oncology is the study of cancer (also what I have). The Hemonc is the doctor that gave me my diagnosis. Which brings me to my next term...
Diagnosis vs Prognosis
I've always understood pretty well what a diagnosis is. In fact my friends at work know that one of my favorite maxims is "Diagnose before you Prescribe". This is my way of reminding myself that every situation is unique, and that it can be foolish to jump to a solution before you've really done your homework.
The term I kept hearing that I wasn't familiar with was "Prognosis". A prognosis is more than just knowing what's wrong with you; it's forecasting the outcome of the disease and your chances for recovery. Ironically, I was flipping channels the night before I was diagnosed and I saw the preview for that new movie coming out, "50/50". Apparently it's a drama about a young man who is diagnosed with cancer and has a 50/50 chance of surviving. I remember thinking, "That looks pretty cool. I think I'd like to see that." Little did I know that I would get to star in the main role :)
Now to give you some details about my diagnosis/prognosis: the type of leukemia I have is very rare, especially in adults. According to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society it is most commonly found in children 1-4 years old (7.8 out of 100,000 or less than 1/100th of a percent). In adults between 25-29 the number drops to 0.7 out of 100,000 which means that the chance of me developing this cancer was less than 1/1000th of a percent - and all this time I could have been working my odds in Vegas!
The good news is that my chances for overcoming this cancer are astronomically greater than those that I got it. Although there is no concrete data on recovery rates, my handy pamphlet from the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society informs me that children between 1 and 15 years of age had a 3% chance of surviving in 1964. In 1975 to 1977 the cure rate increased to 58% and the most recent study done between 1999 and 2006 showed a 89% recovery rate.
I would ask you to be mindful of a few things when considering my prognosis.
First, contrary to how I often behave, I am not under 15 years of age (adults don't have as high of a recovery rate as children).
Second, I am participating in a clinical trial being conducted by the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute in Massachusetts. The purpose of the study is to test the safety and effectiveness of certain cancer treatments that are similar to those being used to cure children.
Third, and most importantly, as my friend Charley - a cancer-patient in the same study - reminded me yesterday, the Lord is in charge of this whole thing. It is His will and His plan. You don't have to worry about some guessing game at 60% or 70%, trust in the Lords prognosis.
Lymphoblastic
Far from fantastic, "lymphoblastic" blood cells reproduce rapidly and out of control. They don't work properly because they are mutated. Your blood stream then gets inundated with dysfunctional scrap and your healthy blood cells diminish.
Think of it like a football team that falls victim to a crappy recruiter (in my case the recruiter being a chromosome mutation known as hyperdiploidy). For the first little while everything seems to be fine, but as Recruiter Diploidy brings on more immature and dysfunctional players the team struggles. Pretty soon they can't even get a first down without tripping over their own linemen.
Denial
During my stay on East 8 I have become familiar with 3 phases of denial.
1. As my good friend Chris often reminds me, denial is a river in Egypt. In this phase of denial, you deny you're in denial by making jokes to change the subject.
2. "I don't have Cancer" This is outright denial. You'll come up with any excuse to dodge reality: this is all a dream, the doctors are wrong, cancer is for old people, I feel fine, or this is a practical joke.
3. "Cancer's not that bad" This is more on the acceptance side. You've taken the pills, you've watched your blood counts closely monitored, friends and visitors have come with well wishes. At this point your mindset is: Cancer - no big deal, everybody gets cancer if they live long enough; cancer-shmanser!
Reduced Microbial Diet
This one made me laugh. When I first checked into East 8 they told me I would be limited to a Reduced Microbial Diet (sounds pretty serious right?) So I asked what that meant. The only thing the nurse could tell me was to stay away from grapes. I asked another nurse and she elaborated a bit on how grapes can grow a certain bacteria that isn't always washed off because they are in clusters. Other than that the suggestions were: avoid fast food (of course) and anything that has been sitting out (naturally). So in a nutshell they use eight syllables to say what they could in two - no grapes :)
LP
 |
| Came out the year I was born, 1984 |
There is a similarity: they both involve a needle. The difference is that one reads music off a disc and the other goes into your spine. The other name for an LP is "Spinal Tap" - which again to avoid misinterpretation is not just a cheesy 80's mockumentary about heavy metal bands - but a procedure to retrieve/inject fluid from/into your spinal column. The good news for me is that my first LP did not show any signs of cancer in my spine.
Hemonc
This is a fun one. I had to keep from laughing at the first doctor that I saw with "HEMONC" on their name badge. To me it sounds like something I would call my little brother to tease him. It actually stands for Hematology/Oncology.
Hematology is the study of blood diseases (what I have) and Oncology is the study of cancer (also what I have). The Hemonc is the doctor that gave me my diagnosis. Which brings me to my next term...
Diagnosis vs Prognosis
I've always understood pretty well what a diagnosis is. In fact my friends at work know that one of my favorite maxims is "Diagnose before you Prescribe". This is my way of reminding myself that every situation is unique, and that it can be foolish to jump to a solution before you've really done your homework.
The term I kept hearing that I wasn't familiar with was "Prognosis". A prognosis is more than just knowing what's wrong with you; it's forecasting the outcome of the disease and your chances for recovery. Ironically, I was flipping channels the night before I was diagnosed and I saw the preview for that new movie coming out, "50/50". Apparently it's a drama about a young man who is diagnosed with cancer and has a 50/50 chance of surviving. I remember thinking, "That looks pretty cool. I think I'd like to see that." Little did I know that I would get to star in the main role :)
Now to give you some details about my diagnosis/prognosis: the type of leukemia I have is very rare, especially in adults. According to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society it is most commonly found in children 1-4 years old (7.8 out of 100,000 or less than 1/100th of a percent). In adults between 25-29 the number drops to 0.7 out of 100,000 which means that the chance of me developing this cancer was less than 1/1000th of a percent - and all this time I could have been working my odds in Vegas!
The good news is that my chances for overcoming this cancer are astronomically greater than those that I got it. Although there is no concrete data on recovery rates, my handy pamphlet from the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society informs me that children between 1 and 15 years of age had a 3% chance of surviving in 1964. In 1975 to 1977 the cure rate increased to 58% and the most recent study done between 1999 and 2006 showed a 89% recovery rate.
I would ask you to be mindful of a few things when considering my prognosis.
First, contrary to how I often behave, I am not under 15 years of age (adults don't have as high of a recovery rate as children).
Second, I am participating in a clinical trial being conducted by the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute in Massachusetts. The purpose of the study is to test the safety and effectiveness of certain cancer treatments that are similar to those being used to cure children.
Third, and most importantly, as my friend Charley - a cancer-patient in the same study - reminded me yesterday, the Lord is in charge of this whole thing. It is His will and His plan. You don't have to worry about some guessing game at 60% or 70%, trust in the Lords prognosis.
Lymphoblastic
Far from fantastic, "lymphoblastic" blood cells reproduce rapidly and out of control. They don't work properly because they are mutated. Your blood stream then gets inundated with dysfunctional scrap and your healthy blood cells diminish.
Think of it like a football team that falls victim to a crappy recruiter (in my case the recruiter being a chromosome mutation known as hyperdiploidy). For the first little while everything seems to be fine, but as Recruiter Diploidy brings on more immature and dysfunctional players the team struggles. Pretty soon they can't even get a first down without tripping over their own linemen.
Denial
During my stay on East 8 I have become familiar with 3 phases of denial.
1. As my good friend Chris often reminds me, denial is a river in Egypt. In this phase of denial, you deny you're in denial by making jokes to change the subject.
2. "I don't have Cancer" This is outright denial. You'll come up with any excuse to dodge reality: this is all a dream, the doctors are wrong, cancer is for old people, I feel fine, or this is a practical joke.
3. "Cancer's not that bad" This is more on the acceptance side. You've taken the pills, you've watched your blood counts closely monitored, friends and visitors have come with well wishes. At this point your mindset is: Cancer - no big deal, everybody gets cancer if they live long enough; cancer-shmanser!
Reduced Microbial Diet
This one made me laugh. When I first checked into East 8 they told me I would be limited to a Reduced Microbial Diet (sounds pretty serious right?) So I asked what that meant. The only thing the nurse could tell me was to stay away from grapes. I asked another nurse and she elaborated a bit on how grapes can grow a certain bacteria that isn't always washed off because they are in clusters. Other than that the suggestions were: avoid fast food (of course) and anything that has been sitting out (naturally). So in a nutshell they use eight syllables to say what they could in two - no grapes :) 
Thanks for the update. You are an inspiration. Keep it up!
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