Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Fruit Flies

Yesterday the operating room where I work suffered a four hour delay. Someone had left a bag of fruit in the break room over the weekend. A few fruit flies were seen nearby. However, when the bag was finally found and opened thousands of fruitflies escaped. (I see a metaphor here to gossip, but with a pillow and feathers; but I digress.) It was clear that it would take a few hours to clear out and sterilize the area. We were scheduled to do three radioactive seed implant cases for the treatment of prostate cancer.
Wanting to ascertain the status of our day, I hovered near the main office where a high level pow-wow was in progress. The head anesthesiologist was commenting on how cases using implants would need to be rescheduled because of their heightened need for absolute sterility. Still just outside the door, I commented to him, as an aside, that there existed no bacteria in creation  that could survive on our radioactive implants.

A moment later, finally inside the office and the conversation, the OR director looked at me and queried, "Now, Kevin, you guys are using implants, correct?" Clearly, wanting to make the distinction that we were safe I answered. "Yes, but bugs don't like radioactivity.
Without missing a beat he threw up his hands in a feigned sense of importance and exclaimed, "but what about Spiderman?!"

Kevin


Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Dangerous Discovery



Definitely did discover dangerous delectables during a drop into Walmart. Depressed by dint of the demise of Ding Dongs I did delve the shelves of dubious duplications. I did detain a decoction developed by diametrically dismantled engineering. My dubiosity did develop into the done deed. Dollars donated. Their designation a deceptively devilish dessert.
Then I ate it.
The distinction differed to my delight. The denoted generic 'Ding Dongs' did define themselves deluxe at a discount. My disdain dissolved; as did the devilish delight.
This is dangerous.

Kevin

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Small Victories-

Eagle River, Alaska
I looked on Yahoo news, but I didn't find it. I did find out that two celebrities were wearing the same dress at the same event and that another sports figure did something stupid. But there was no mention of the woman that called me on the phone today. She wanted to tell me that she had received a new heart and that she was a changed person. This is huge. She was going to die very soon and now she will not. I did not wonder why this was not big news in all of the major venues. She is not famous. She is just like the rest of us. And what a blessing that is.
I met her and her husband in February. She was an inpatient and was placed on the transplant list that very day. I was there for my semi-annual heart biopsy. She had heard of me and wanted to ask me some questions. She has primary AL amyloidosis and was in much worse condition that I had been prior to my new heart. But, she was initially afraid and did not want a heart transplant. Finally, with her doctors' urging and her husband's support, she acquiesced and agreed to go on the list. But she was still nervous. When Barbie and I entered her room she was surprised to see how healthy I looked. We answered her questions and named her fears such that they no longer lurked in the darkness of uncertainty. When we parted she was visibly relieved and increased in hope.
I knew from what she told me of her symptoms that without a heart transplant she would not be long for this world. I silently prayed that the heart would come soon. It did. Within a month I got word from her husband that she had an uneventful surgery and recovery. She had an early heart rejection, but this was reversed with ridiculously high doses of I.V. steroids (Solumedrol: nasty stuff) and has done well since.
She called me today to ask when she should be rechecked as to the status of her amyloidosis. We discussed this and her new side-effects. She spoke of a wicked 'Prograf' tremor (Prograf is the major anti-rejection medicine that we take everyday, forever.) This causes a bad 'intention' tremor. This type of tremor gets worse as the effort at fine motor movement increases. So when the spoon begins at the bowl, it is not that bad. However, when it finally reaches the lips it is like eating soup on a roller coaster during an earthquake with a magnitude of 7.2 on the Richter scale. It is messy. I reassured her that this would greatly improve in 9 - 12 months. I gave her suggestions on managing her light-headedness after sitting for long periods. Barbie and I reminisced on how we never knew what the cause of all of my early side-effects were and how it would have been nice to have someone to call. The doctors tried, but patients understand these thing better; we live through them every day.
It was amazing to hear her describe her new life. She is no longer short of breath; no more oxygen tanks. The defibrillator vest is gone. No more pain when eating. And the nasty swelling in the legs is gone. She now walks a mile a day. What a miracle.
This should be momentous news; such an amazing event. But it happens to regular folk every day all over the world.
Fame is a funny thing. Some people actually seek it, but they are always disappointed.They often proffer some salacious tidbit that immediately vaporizes into cyberspace as they remain unsatisfied. Fame is an empty promise. I define fame as when 51% of the people who have ever heard of you have never met you. I would rather be famous among 50; within a small group whose lives you have touched while becoming better for having met them, either physically or through our ever expanding virtual world.
In this group we know each other. We share our stories and listen and understand. We give hope to each other and enlighten the path for those that follow. In this group we are each enriched as we share our small victories

Kevin

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

In My Father's House


We had the opportunity to purchase the house in which my father grew up. It is located two blocks from downtown Provo, Utah. Barbie and I fell in love with the house when we first saw it. It is a Craftsman Bungalow style built in 1927. But we also felt its history. My dad moved here when he was nine and lived there until he married my mom and moved to California. There is so much of the history of my ancestors that happened in this house. My first recorded memory (one attached to a fixed date) happened when we travelled to Utah for the funeral of my Grandmother in April of 1962. I was in the kitchen as I watched boiled oatmeal escape the saucepan and pour over the rim onto the stove. This frightened me.

Barbie and I traveled to Provo last week to see the basement that we had remodeled so that Caitlin and Ben could live downstairs while Samuel and Michelle reside in the main house. This was a long long-distant process and had its share of both minor bumps and major issues. We had excellent help through our friend and interior designer, Wendy Ormsby, and our contractor, Jeremy Brown of AllElectric Construction. We did our best to maintain a virtual presence through smart phones as we texted, sent photos and face-timed to oversee and hopefully not overlook the many details involved The result created one of the nicest basement apartments that I have seen in Provo. (A university town with its share of basements dungeons. I lived in one in 1980.)

I decided to include some before and after photos.

(Click to enlarge)

Bathroom

Before, Note the painted ducts
After

Two areas of the old basement not seen here in photos are the cinderblock coal room which was behind the water heater and originally stored coal for the first furnace in the house. This was removed and made room for the bathroom above. The old coal shoot was converted into the bathroom window. Additionally, there was a root cellar that ran the width of the back of the house behind the basement kitchen. This was excavated and finished to become the pantry off the kitchen, the laundry room and a back exit to the internal staircase to the main house. This staircase was required by Provo City in order to get a building permit and caused a large delay and a large cash infusion.



 Front Room

Before

After



View from door
                                                                       
Before
After

Bedroom

Before


After


Kitchen 
Before


After, with view into pantry

We decided to create the basement that we would like to live in if we were young married BYU students.
I'm ready to go back to school.

Kevin


Thursday, March 28, 2013

All Things Being Equal

I am fascinated with words, even more so with phrases. I wonder how they get crafted and adopted. All things are rarely equal. But it helps to attempt equality when deciding between things. Currently all things are going well, and yet they aren't. I am reminded of this in the blog post that Rebecca so courageously shared yesterday about dealing with a miscarriage. a-wretched-life
I am proud of Rebecca and Jason for their faith and perseverance. We so love our children and want them to be happy. But there will always be days that are sad.
I continue to do extremely well with my health. No changes of note. I still get Velcade weekly along with my Decadron. There are, however, some promising new drugs on the horizon that may change the course of my disease. I will keep you updated. Work is going well and I will be working with Kaiser to develop a video for patients newly diagnosed with prostate cancer. I wrote the script and will be in front of the camera. I'm trying to lose 10 lbs so that I look better on computer screens around Northern California.
Barbie has been working consistently in temporary positions as an RDH and is considering some more permanent options. She is a great hygienist.
We recently returned from a very romantic cruise to the eastern Caribbean. We visited Turks and Caicos, San Juan, Puerto Rico, St Thomas and a private island that Holland America owns called Half Moon Cay. We had such a relaxing week with 7 days of no cell phones, no Internet and no schedule. The sea was a beautiful clear turquoise, the water was warm and the few fish that we saw enough to say we snorkeled.

Half Moon Cay
The basement of the Provo house was finally finished and Caitlin and  Ben moved in on Monday. It is not a typical BYU basement apartment. Barbie's friend, Wendy Ormsby is an interior designer and, working with her contractor, Jeremy Brown, were able to take Barbie's vision and create a wonderful 'space'. Caitlin is delighted to have a little more room for her womb as she is now in her 17th week and wants to nest. Once I get the before and after shots of the basement, I'll post them.
With the book done and a grandchild on the way, my previous bucket list had officially expired. While watching the ocean from our stateroom balcony I penned a new one. It has some fun stuff like reading Dickens, learning French, doing a culinary experience in St Helena, CA and riding the Orient Express from Paris to Istanbul.
I hope to continue writing, both here on our blog and other places as well. Maybe if the prostate cancer video plays well, I might get a call from Kaiser Hollywood.

Kevin

Thursday, January 17, 2013

Looking for help



It's been over a year now since I effectively stopped writing regularly in our blog. The reason I perportively gave at that time was because I was going to work on writing a book about this experience of a patient as a doctor. I haven't done a very effective job at doing either over the last year. As I reflect on my life at that time, I had just switched from Revlimid to Velcade to treat my disease. While Revlimid had more physical side effects, Velcade has produced more insidious psychological side effects. As a result, my motivation suffered. It is very difficult to write without motivation. It would briefly return on Wednesday evenings when the morning dose of Decadron produced a state of hypo-mania coupled with insomnia and mild dis-inhibition. (This is where I am tonight.) All of which can be useful for writing.
Yet I would occasionally force myself to sit and write in fits and spurts. As such, the book is now essentially written. I am now ready to free it from the solitary confinement of my mind (and a file on my desktop) to let others read it, and critique it. This is actually a scary proposition. That is why Barbie will read it first. I trust her. Over the last week I have been quite anxious about publishing it. What if people don't like it? What if they can't relate? Millions of books are written. Why does the world need another one? I tell myself that my only audience is that of my future grandchildren, and that helps me to keep going. Sometimes I think that I will share great, previously un-thought truths, some enlightened revelation to benefit humanity only to realize that there is nothing that I have ever thought, said or written that hasn't already occurred to some millions of other observant humans so many times over the last 10,000 years; and then I realize, "It's new to me, and is therefore of great value." "These are the lessons that I needed to learn."
Do we really need books anymore? Books take too long to read when we have social media. Of course there are blogs which represent the cyberspace union of narcissism and voyeurism. But given their wordiness, they might require a longer attention span. For those with medium attention spans there is Facebook. While those with limited attention, and prone to quick boredom, can opt for Twitter. For pre-schoolers there is Pinterest. (I like to look at the pictures.)
There are times when trying to describe the scope of a life requires more, and therefore more investment from the reader. I once heard, while attending a lecture on chaos theory, that in New York City there is only sufficient food on the island of Manhattan to last for three days. And yet, there is no master plan on how to get this food resupplied on a daily basis. It just happens. Any regular mathematical model would fail in trying to describe this so the problem is given to those who can speak in the terms of chaos theory.
Imagine that Manhattan is a book. Chapters would be found in SoHo, the Village, The Upper East Side, Time Square. The pages are made up of the restaurants in China Town, the penthouses near Columbus Circle and the Galleries in Chelsea. The words are us. We build the stories of the book everyday of our lives. But you couldn't truly read the Book of Manhattan if you never left Wall Street. You would have to take the Subway for a day at the Met; a stroll in Central Park. You would need to stand in Battery Park and gaze off at the Statue of Liberty. However, while you may get a feel for Manhattan, you could ever comprehend it all.
A single human life is more complex than all of Manhattan. Are lives are not as ordered and planned as we think they could be. Chaos is all around us and in us. It has been difficult for me to assemble even a year and a half of my life so that I can make literative sense to those that may read it. I struggle to tie strings of relevance with a knot at each critical turning point to guide the unfamiliar along this foreign path. My only tools are memories and words; woefully inadequate. There are passages of my own prose that are torture for me to read as they rekindle painful memories that are immediately real. And yet I know that my failing as a writer can never convey that same visual memory burned in my brain. So why bother.
My hope comes from the reader. They will subconsciously recognize my gaps in narrative and fill them seamlessly with their own imagination, experiences and intuition. Our common human wisdom may serve to save this endeavor. This gives me some hope. My story, in a way, becomes their story in the sharing.
Once Barbie, and a few others, read this and it is finally done. I have no idea how to publish it. Or how to even start. I have heard that I could put it as an E-Book on Amazon. I don't know. If anyone has any good suggestions. Please let me know.

Thanks,

Kevin
kray0819@gmail.com

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Summer of our Bliss-content




The marathon seemed to begin with 2nd of four drives through Battle Mountain, NV to bring Barbie and her patient candidate, Elaine, for her practical dental hygiene boards in Orem, Utah. On April 21st her patient was rejected and she, with the confidence of a Navy seal, kept her wits, found a new patient and passed the exam. Two days later, on her 19th birthday, Caitlin accepted Benjamin's Solari's proposal of marriage and set the wedding date for the end of July. A week later we closed on the Provo, Utah house; the only house that my grandparents, Harold and Catherine Anderson, ever owned. A house that they purchased in 1937 and was sold in 1962 when my Grandmother died. This house marked my first recorded memory connected to a fixed date at the age of two and a half.
Three weeks later, Barbie and I flew to Atlanta for the American Urologic Society's annual meeting. It was the following week that two more extraordinary things happened. Barbie turned 50 on May 27th and graduated for dental hygiene school and was chosen by her class to be their voice on this momentous occasion. Her graduation gift ended the 30 year tradition of practical family cars as this one is not kid friendly.

The following day we flew to Pennsylvania to visit Samuel and Michelle at Penn State and, while there, made side trips to Connecticut and the Pentagon for lunch. We even got to observe Samuel performing acoustical experiments measuring cavitation bubbles in a water tunnel.
A week later we flew to Alaska and spent a week visiting with my brother David and his wife Joel'lene. The week culminated in my honored opportunity to speak to the medical community there in remembrance of one of their fallen colleagues and a fellow amyloidosis patient.
Then the preparations began in earnest for Caitlin and Ben's wedding. A thousand details, all with a deadline of July 28th, miraculously flowed together to create that magical moment when your last child and youngest daughter melds her life with a new man. May he love her as I always have and always will. He married an angel.
While they honeymooned in Kauai, Barbie and I prepared for our family vacation to the Marriott Newport Coast villas. We also celebrated are 30th wedding anniversary on August 6th with a trip to Santa Clara for my four year anniversary heart biopsy and pressure studies. Not only did my heart show no rejection, additionally we found that my cardiac index is 3.0 (very good) and their is no evidence of amyloid deposition. We also celebrated by visiting the temple in Oakland where we were married 30 years before and then relaxed on the beach in Pacifica until we picked up Ben and Caitlin from the airport.
With our our four children, now all married, we met for the first time as the complete package in Southern California. It was a wonderful week as we all relaxed together before the mounting responsibilities of September began.
We spent every day in the warm southern California surf and caught some awesome and totally gnarly waves. This time I did not fracture a rib, I only tore a cartilage at the costochodral junction of my right 6th rib. It seemed to hurt less when I got back in the water to shoot some tubes on my new Boogie Board that Barbie got me for my 53rd birthday.
We returned home in time for Barbie to direct music for our Lincoln Stake Conference and celebrated a quiet birthday with an enchilada dinner ( something I have often requested since childhood.)
Two days later we drove to Utah for the fourth time to move Ben and Caitlin into our new house in Provo and fix it up for the extended Anderson family open house which we had last Saturday. It was a treat to have my Mom (age 78), my Aunt Gloria (age 88) and my Uncle Harold, my dad's brother (age 89) there with many of their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren at the home where it all began. So many stories and memories were shared. As cousins roamed through the house, Patty, Harold's second daughter shared a tender moment. She pointed to the upstairs landing and recalled that she and her older sister Karen, ages 7 and 8 respectively, were sitting there in April of 1959 when an emotional father slowly ascended to inform them that their grandfather had just died downstairs. It was their first memory of seeing him cry.
Monday we waved goodbye to Ben and Caitlin on the steps of our new home as they begin their new life together. It was bittersweet.
Today Barbie started work as a dental hygienist and I restarted chemo after a month vacation. We are back.

Last Saturday, as the my kinfolk were leaving, my cousin Doug thanked me for the wonderful day of reminiscing. I replied that, since my brush with mortality, I have become very interested in investing. The only commodity that matters are relationships; and the only investment worth making is in building memories. In our reunion we shared lost and individual memories with each other; our common home as the catalyst. The present moment captured past experiences for future generations. I believe that this summer had an incredible return on investment as we lived our lives to the fullest and reaped hundreds of moments of joy which now serve to further enrich our portfolio of cherished memories.

Let the next generation begin.

Kevin

Friday, July 6, 2012

Deconstructing Amyloidosis

Each of us surviving amyloidosis, in ourselves or a loved one, can help the rest of us in often profound ways. Muriel Finkel is the maven of information. She supplies us with incredible articles and access to information that define the cutting edge progress in this disease. I say thank you to her with all of my heart. Her most recent update includes the current report by the team at the Mayo Clinic on 10 year survival data on 74 patients that underwent an autologous SCT from 1996 to 2001. The results showed that 43% of patients lived beyond 10 years. Some might scoff at that number and say, "Only 43%, that's dismal." Of course, context is everything.
Glass half empty, eh? (Actually, the glass is always full; the sum of the liquid and gas equals one.)
Ten year survival is a wonderful thing and more common than I previously thought. The article then goes on to talk about significant baseline characteristics that might predict a better prognosis. There were four, but one stood out, the number of organs involved, although heart septal wall thickness also contributed. Post therapy lowest light chain level and degree of response also correlated. I, of course, inserted my numbers, both baseline and post SCT and I clearly will not be in the long term survivor (LTS) group. Yet, for me the glass is still full. I have had a heart transplant, so it is apples to lacrosse sticks. As such, I have designated myself the current president of my own long term survivor club. With continuous chemotherapy I have only succeeded in pushing my light chains to the median level for the non-LTS group.
What was most interesting to me was what I learned from the introduction to the article. Sufficient to entice me to attempt to translate it into common American English.

I refer to the article below and reference it so that I may quote verbatim the first paragraph.


Ten-Year Survival After Autologous Stem Cell Transplantation
for Immunoglobulin Light Chain Amyloidosis
Stefan Cordes, MD, PhD1; Angela Dispenzieri, MD1,2; Martha Q. Lacy, MD1,2; Suzanne R. Hayman, MD1,2; Francis K. Buadi, MD1,2;
David Dingli, MD, PhD1,2; Shaji K. Kumar, MD1,2; William J. Hogan, MB, BCh1,2; and Morie A. Gertz, MD1,2
Cancer 2012


"INTRODUCTION
Systemic immunoglobulin light chain amyloidosis (AL) is a plasma cell dyscrasia in which monoclonal light chain protein aggregates and deposits in tissue as amyloid fibrils.1-3 Only a relatively small percentage of Ig light chains are amyloidogenic,as evidenced by the finding that AL amyloidosis occurs in only approximately 6% to 15% of patients with multiple myeloma. Amyloidogenicity is related to structural features such as the light chain isotype and the variable subgroup. The folding pathway of such amyloidogenic light chains is believed to pass through partially folded metastable conformations that aggregate either 1) at sufficiently high concentrations or 2) under specific environmental conditions."


Most of us know that AL or light chain amyloidosis is caused by the deposition of large quantities of abnormal proteins (light chains) that somehow band together in bundles and damage tissue. There are some pearls in the paragraph above of which I was previously unaware.


1. " Only a relatively small percentage of Ig light chains are amyloidogenic." 

It appears that a mere excess of light chains is not enough to cause the condition of amyloidosis. The evidence is in the following statement that only 6%-15% of patients with multiple myeloma show a clinical presentation of amyloidosis. The rest of the patients with multiple myeloma make massive quantities of light chains, but not the toxic type.
When a plasma cell goes rogue as either a cancer (Multiple Myeloma; the plasma cell clones don't die) or a dyscrasia (AL Amyloidosis; the cells die, but make toxic proteins before they do.), they make excess copies of a single protein. Somehow, this particular protein misfolds and combines with other proteins to create a fibril. This is a random event.

2. "Amyloidogenicity is related to structural features such as the light chain isotype and the variable subgroup."


Antibodies are incomprehensible in their awesomeness. 


The light chain is the short, lighter blue and orange protein shown on the outside of the bigger and heavier chain of amino-acids that make up this particular protein or immunoglobulin. The magic occurs in the orange part or variable subgroup. From the time we are born we have white cells that make and store millions of unique antibodies that differ in the orange tip region. A controlled fire of mutations allows for this library of antibodies, most of which may never be used. Usually, mutation is bad, however, here it is necessary for our survival. When we get an infection or any foreign protein (antigen) enters our bodies, millions of white cells, (B-lymphocytes) each presenting their own unique antibody go up and 'taste' the invader. Most don't recognize it and move on. However, one will have a unique shape that will allow it to stick, like a lock and key. An alarm goes off and the B-Cell becomes a plasma cell and dedicates it's life and the life of all of it's daughter clone cells to making that single unique antibody with it's unique light chain.
I am no expert, but it might be additional factors that cause the overproduction and misfolding of our unique light that make ours toxic and others not. This part I don't understand well. In other words, just misfolding and making fibrils out of any light chain won't cause amyloidosis. It may be a specific clone that is required. I would imagine that if you did amino-acid sequencing to get a fingerprint of each of the variable region our light chains for those of us that have this disease, they would all be unique. The commonality of the presentation is more likely related to characteristics shared by the final products; first, their preferred soil. Some fibrils have shapes, bonds and electrical polarities that favor heart muscle, while others prefer to clog up kidney tubules. Kappa light chains are monomers or single molecules, while Lambda are dimers, or double molecules. This means that they start out twice as big and this might effect there propensity for kidney damage. Regardless of the initial clonal type, the final common pathway is tissue damage.




3. "The folding pathway of such amyloidogenic light chains is believed to pass through partially folded metastable conformations that aggregate either 1) at sufficiently high concentrations or 2) under specific environmental conditions."


Here the authors teach us that it is not just the high levels of our light chains floating around, but the environment around them. Tissue types, other proteins, cellular communications: many things may impact the toxicity, independent of our light chain levels. We all know that each of us have a different range where our light chains levels live, both on and off therapy. Yet, we cannot compare numbers like PSA for prostate cancer; because we cannot compare our respective environments. We do all agree that lower is better, though.


4. The second paragraph in the introduction has a line that states, "One of the rationales for the efficacy of such treatment is the remarkable observation that it is the growth of fibrils, in contrast to existing fibril load, that inflict cellular damage through transient defects in the cell membrane."


This was a new concept for me. Essentially, I interpreted this as these nasty protein fibrils do there damage as they break through the window, not while they vegetate inside the cell as couch potatoes. Therefore, the target of treatment is to prevent new break-ins rather than remove the loafers already living there. The blood tests that measures our light chains only detect the hooligans on the prowl, not the ones already in residence. That is measured by organ health, and it's ability to heal itself once the break-ins are curtailed.
We have SCT and chemotherapy the reduce our plasma cell numbers and prevent them from making more light chains of one particular flavor.

I hope that this explanation is clear enough to add to your understanding of this article and our shared lot in life.

May you all join my LTS club.

Kevin

If I have erred, please correct me so that we may all learn.