Some Real News

As I pack my jeans away in a full drawer, a tinge of pain trickles up my forearm, through the shoulder, and up the lower portion of my neck. If I straighten back up and stand still again, I can't feel it at all. A nice relief.

It started out innocently enough. My right shoulder. It gets used a lot. I throw with it. My right hand wrestles ropes from the Irish Terrier. Frisbee golf, and even some Ultimate are new experiences for it. And besides, I've slept on my shoulder wrong countless times only to wake up with a stiff joint and pain through mid-morning. Certainly there was nothing wrong that a few days rest couldn't take care of. After it heals up, I'll be able to sleep comfortably again.

After about a week of mild discomfort, instead of getting better, the aches moved a little farther toward the neck, then continued to inch up. A little unusual for some overworked muscles. But optimism persists, well, because the patient is on treatment to keep things at bay.

My sense of optimism isn't absolutely unshakable though. It began to fail me a few nights before the upcoming engagement with the doctor. A tinge of worry. Two days later, the family loaded up into the car for the usual trip into town to the clinic. Transposing from reception area to waiting room always involves a journey past the doctors' preparatory area where we noted the doctor staring blankly at a screen, as if not knowing quite what to do with it. Certainly it is hard for doctors to have undesirable news, as it is for patients to receive it.

I hint then, at the coming events, trying not to get ahead of myself. Naturally, the doctor will enter the room. He will bring news. And it will not be good. There are few good ways to tell a patient that the recommended treatment, touted as the very best option, has done nothing for him and will be discontinued. The doctor delivered it in the best way he could. And for that I commend him. He is indeed a good man, if limited in resources.

For the moment, I give you the dry version of the story, which is easy to tell. A later session will highlight other aspects. The lesson here is that my treatments have, for the time being, come to an end. I have one more treatment option which is a drug cocktail similar to what I received as the first line of treatment. This worked well the first time, and I am hopeful that it might work with some success the second time around. But the chances are slight. The other possibility is to submit to the unknown and dive into a promising clinical trial. My doctor is placing phone calls, perhaps as I write, to the various medical clinics around the country to identify potential clinical trials that might be an option for me. I do remain hopeful! A bit of good news, a CT scan shows my brain is still in working order, and no sign of disease there. Other good news is that Rapunzel still floats cheerily in the corner of my room, frozen in a perpetual state of brushing out her flowing locks.