Update on today's meeting with my father's oncologist.

[Mike 03]

Since I posted twice asking for advice prior to the meeting, I only felt it was fair to post what happened today.

(Just to reiterate, I received great advice here and followed it, and it made a huge positive difference in how today went--thank you very much.)

As expected, it was pretty much a somber meeting. It's no secret that my father's prognosis is not good, but there was a sense of caring there that amazed me. It was not some horrible, cold meeting, but a very compassionate, meaningful event. I love my father's oncologist and his doctor's assistant. I've never seen medical professionals take a patient (and his family) so seriously, or devote so much time paying 100% attention to the anxieties and fears of the patient. Not once did my dad's doctor check his watch or look bored or turn away or anything.

We did not feel rushed, and the doctor seemed genuinely interested in my questions. It's so great that there are doctors, PAs, Nurses like this in the world. There was not a doubt in my mind that they experienced my father as a human being, knew his case entirely, and care about the outcome.

As bad as things might seem, that made a huge difference. It just meant so much. And it can't be easy being an oncologist or an oncologist's assistant delivering bad news. They are human beings too, and I could see in their eyes that they cared. And that meant more than I can even tell you.

So, the doctor basically told my father, your choices are limited at this point: It is your choice, but we (the Mayo hospital makes its important decisions by committee/consensus) believe you should get an autologous stem cell transplant and do it immediately (two weeks from today). He basically said, this operation will buy you six to twelve months. If you don't get it, he said... He didn't complete the sentence, but we know what he meant. All of those other interesting, novel options and clinical trials I was thinking about probably would not help him at this point because the novel agents take a toll on his immunosupression and blood profile. For the past couple of weeks he has had to get blood transfusions and has a very low platelet count. That seems to be the main reason he is not eligible for some of the clinical trials I'd hoped he might be eligible for.

But possibly, after the stem cell transplant, if it goes well, he may be able to participate in some of these new clinical trials.

Even though his cytogentics are not good, there is a slim chance it could go better than expected.

And to the doctor's credit, he patiently gave answers to all of my questions about why my dad was not eligible for other novel-agent chemo trials, or why it was necessary to plunge into such intensive, drastic therapy right now, without even a few weeks to think about it.

So, as Hemingway would write, "There it is."

We just got back from the meeting a few hours ago, so we'll need some time to digest all the info and think about it, but my father, who a week ago was saying he would not get the ASCT, is now leaning towards it.

Despite how grave this day was, we had a good time being together. I tried to keep things light and even made my parents laugh a few times. But when I got home, the harsh reality of the situation began to sink in.

My father's got to make this terribly difficult decision. I know it's probably the hardest decision he's ever made. He must be scared to death, and I wish I could comfort him, but I know I can't.

But I'm just going to keep trying to find the hope in the situation and pass it on to him.

Thanks for all of the kindness, great advice, compassion and good will you have extended to my family over these past many months.

You have no idea how much meaningful, useful and crucial advice I have received from you all during various turning points during this journey.

Those two words, "Thank You," don't come even close to expression how much I appreciate the support I've received here.

[alphafemale]

1. Just remember that lots of people are carrying you in their thoughts.

:grouphug:

[ColbertWatcher]

9. True, k+r, n/t

[lamp_shade]

2. You're a good son, Mike.

[Tangerine LaBamba]

3. Good show .............

You were so afraid of alienating the oncologist, and you just needed to be reminded that people who go into that field do it for a reason - and it's not because they don't like people.

Of course he gave you his full attention. It's what he does. That's his job. He's your father's doctor.

I'm glad it was not the anxiety-producing situation you feared - it was never going to be like that. Now you have an understanding that you're all equal partners in this trek, and everything you all have to say is important.

I wish you all well on the rest of this journey. However your father decides, it will be correct. He simply cannot make a mistake here, because it's up to him.

Good luck.......................

[JuniperLea]

4. Good to know you asked your questions...

And that the oncologist, et al, are worth their salt. There is a lot to be said for the peace of mind that comes from an exchange like that, don't you think?

Mayo is a great place. I have a friend who is alive today due to the wonderful treatment he received there, by an oncologist who was just as caring. It's been 8 years, and he's still cancer free, and still counting his blessings. I'll wish for the same miracle for you and your family.

[Laelth]

5. Um, who drove? n/t

:dem:

-Laelth

[nadinbrzezinski]

6. hugs mike

[The Straight Story]

7. Thank you for the update

Sounds like you had a good day (given the circumstances).

I wish your dad luck, and I hope down the road you let us know how things are going.

[csziggy]

8. Wonderful - I am so glad it went well and that your team is working together

For your father. "Your team" of course, being you, your mother and your father's medical team.

I'll keep sending good thoughts your way. :hug:

[madrchsod]

10. my dad faced the same situation your dad is facing....

and he chose not to further treatments. any one of us could face the same decision your dad will and mine did. i felt so bad for myself when he told me but then i realized it was the last thing in his life he could control.

for all the fighting and fussing here at du we set aside our differences and help a friend in need