No good pound goes unpunished.

“183.5” read the digital scale at the chemo factory as I stepped off of it. Although this is the weight at which I’d normally begin cutting back on caloric intake, you’d think I’d just whipped Usain Bolt in the 100-meter dash judging from the reaction of the chemo staff.

“You’ve gained almost 30 pounds since you started chemotherapy” said one of the white-coated functionaries. Given the smiles and somewhat puzzled looks I take it that this doesn’t happen very often.

But rather than being awarded a gold medal, I received a higher dose of Trabectedin (2.4 mg) as my increased body mass was taken into consideration. So much for small victories.

At the conclusion of a brief exam, the center’s medical director asked me how many rounds of chemo I’d had. I told him that this was my twelfth round but I didn’t remind him that he’d tried to get me to switch drugs at round four, telling me that the Trabectedin wouldn’t work beyond the fifth or sixth round. He then pleaded with me to talk to two new patients. One was a Chinese woman with leiomyosarcoma who was beginning her first treatment with Trabectedin after other treatment modalities at a major teaching hospital in Los Angeles had failed. The other was a prospective patient from San Francisco with liposarcoma in his belly for whom surgery, radiotherapy, and conventional chemotherapy had all failed.

I find it amusing how I’m regularly asked to speak with new patients. It turns out that patients don’t come any more messed up than me, and don’t often have such a positive response to treatment. If it’s possible for a chemo factory to have a rock star, I’m it.

Although I really don’t know what to say to such patients, I never seem to be at a loss for words (surprising, huh?). I simply try to encourage them by conveying my story, hoping that they’ll understand that no matter how bad off they are, or what they’ve been told by the professionals, there’s always hope. Although I’m always tempted to give them the “your mileage may vary” caveat, I never do. They get enough of that everywhere else. I believe my job is to dispense hope, not common sense.

Since my last post I made another business trip to Colorado. More hiking at altitude, more “Caution” signs left in the dust. Damn, it’s great to feel good again.

I still piss blood occasionally, but then what rock star doesn’t.