An Inconvenient Tumor

[I have to preface this post by saying that Bryan gave me 100% permission to write about his bowels. Family and friends, enjoy.]

When you have cancer, nothing is embarrassing and there are no secrets.

That said, Bryan stunned our neuro oncologist yesterday. Well, stunned him first and then had him in fits of laughter.

Bryan and I had our first re-group with our incredible neuro oncologist, his physician's assistant and nurse yesterday afternoon. We always see the nurse first, also named Joanna (per my earlier post, "Unconditional Love"). She takes Bryan's weight, blood pressure and pulse. She knows to share the info with me, as I write it all down in our medical binder (thank GOD for Bryan's mom, who created it for us). It serves a dual purpose by not only recording all our doctor's comments and directions, but in a sick way, it really fulfills the OCD in me. So we both win.

Then Joanna does a run-down of questions, to which Bryan gives his ultra-brief responses.

Joanna: How are you feeling?
Bryan: Pretty good. Better than the last time I was here.

Joanna: That's great. How are your chemo pills treating you?
Bryan: Good.

Joanna: Do you have any side effects, like nausea or constipation? (SEVERE constipation is the #1 side effect of oral chemo)
Bryan: No. I mean yes. Constipation. It's bad.

Joanna: When was your last bowel movement?
Bryan: Two nights ago. But it wasn't a "good" one. Before that, it's been seven days.

Joanna: Are you taking any laxatives?
Bryan: We tried to find Senacot-S (the professionally-recommended laxative), but it's nowhere to be found.

Joanna: It was recalled.
Bryan: Perfect.

I have to explain that this side effect is absolutely standard (and this will prove educational should anyone reading this ever have to take oral chemo). So our neuro oncologist comes in with his physician's assistant, Rebecca, and they start to ask Bryan about his side effects. Bryan explains the constipation and the doctor says, "Wow. You must really be backlogged." I try to stay quiet but can't help but let a loud "HA!" escape my throat. And Rebecca actually chortled.

He then give us the name of a stronger laxative – done and done – and we move on to other side effects. They ask Bryan if he's felt nauseous at all, to which he responds "no." He starts to tell the doctors that he's anxious because he hasn't had any side effects. Because having side effects, like the kind of gut-wrenching nausea you see from chemo patients in the movies, means that at least something, anything must be happening. That if you're having side effects, the drugs must be working. While it totally makes sense from a rational perspective, considering multiple doctors on multiple occasions told Bryan he would have no problems with the treatment, it was a little ridiculous that 8 days into treatment, he was hoping for symptoms.

Bryan explains that in a weird way, he wanted side effects. Our doctor is left speechless. Stunned. Then he cracks up and says,  "You WANT side effects? That's fine, if that's the kind of thing you're into. Just stop taking your anti-nausea pill and you'll have ALLLLLLL the side effects you want."

He's still laughing. I'm laughing. Rebecca is laughing. Then Bryan finally laughs and the doctor says, "Listen, you're doing beautifully. This is exactly what I was hoping for. You're having a easy time with treatment, constipation aside, and I'm really, really pleased."

So we came home and I hid his anti-nausea pills. I'm absolutely, 100% kidding. I did NOT do that. But I DID offer to hide them for one night so he could see what side effects he would have. Luckily, I think he had come to his senses. I went out and got his "clean out my pipes" medicine and we had a lovely evening filled with laxatives, anti-nausea pills and chemo. And today, there's not a side effect in sight.

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