tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77475772426274901522024-02-20T14:43:46.155-06:00Dan's Cancer Journey...Only by His stripes will I be healed! It doesn't matter how strong or determined I am, or how good the doctors are --- Ultimately, my life rests in the palm of His hand.
I will trust God all the way through!Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-91010165902960263532010-12-08T20:53:00.001-06:002010-12-08T20:57:29.978-06:00New Domain - New SiteBeloved,<br />
I am no longer using http://www.LeDan09.Com, or http://ledan09.blogspot.com. Please do not visit these sites anymore.<br />
<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">PLEASE GO TO <a href="http://www.danielhaddad.org/">http://www.DanielHaddad.Org</a></span></b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>Thank you, and God bless you all! </b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>Daniel Haddad</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>___________________________</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>1 Peter 1:3</b><br />
<i>"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead." </i>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-20139144180502492022010-11-05T16:46:00.024-05:002010-11-23T12:39:44.567-06:002 Surgeons, 1 Day...Although I was officially done with my treatments, our vacation wasn't quite here. I still had 2 meetings: one with my Orthopedic Surgeon and one with my plastic surgeon, and both in the same day, on <b>September 15th</b>. We were surprised to see that MD Anderson had set me up with a plastic surgeon as my Orthopedic Surgeon had told us that I would not need a Reconstruction of the Pelvis for the surgery, thus no need for a plastic surgeon.<br />
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The plastic surgeon's role would be to take my Fibula bone out of my leg, and use it to reconstruct the pelvis, as the Ring of the Pelvis was going to get cut into. Apparently a very complicated surgery, which altogether would last about 15 hours.<br />
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We were waiting for the surgeon to walk in:<br />
Oh, and my dear friend and brother visited me from Lebanon...Such good and blessed times together!<br />
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</div>If you ever wanted to see how I looked in a skirt/dress, your wish just came true :)<br />
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The plastic surgeon was a very sweet and kind person. Although he had a sense of humor amidst what we were going through, he spoke with genuineness and with compassion. One felt he cared for his patient's care and wellbeing. Any physician, doctor, nurse, surgeon etc...who has no compassion or love for others, or who is unable to extend an arm while putting themselves in their shoes ought to consider another field.<br />
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Similarly, any individual who is unable to practice love, compassion, gentleness, forgiveness and patience with others, ought to re-evaluate one's heart and ponder about who/what is reigning in their life.<br />
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I really love the following verse, and want to put it in practice more and more each day, so that I can live a more selfless life, putting others before me, as Christ did for us:<br />
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<b>Galatians 6:2</b><br />
<i>"Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ"</i><br />
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My dad was super funny in this video as he tells the surgeon "I hope we will not see you again!" :)<br />
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After spending over 45 minutes with the plastic surgeon and his team, we had lunch and visited with my surgeon before taking the 4 weeks off.<br />
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The meeting with the surgeon didn't go as we had expected. The surgeon was, all of a sudden, more adamant about a reconstruction of the pelvis. She told us that unless the tumor shrinks considerably by the next time we do scans (usually a week before the Surgery), that she was planning on going forward with the reconstruction. What seemed to be a possibility, became a confirmation (a worldly one, that is).<br />
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The hope I had in my mind quickly faded away as I realized how sports, running and athleticism would probably no longer be part of my life. It hammered me down; I was getting ready for the realities that lied ahead, it wasn't easy to accept. But then I remembered how every breath I have taken so far is solely from Him, through Him and thanks to Him; so my brokenness lasted only for a few minutes, as I was doing my best to take <b>IMMEDIATE </b>joy and hope in the Lord as <b><u>He is able to change any circumstance!</u></b><br />
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<b>Psalms 39:7</b><br />
<i>"But now, Lord, what do I look for? My hope is in You." </i><br />
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"Enjoy your Europe trip", they say...I shall, I shall, for He lives in me, and that satisfies my deepest thirst, my deepest hunger for anything worldly. Thank you Jesus, for everything!Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-4101544864771342732010-10-21T14:09:00.003-05:002010-10-26T11:34:36.339-05:00No mas Radiation! - September 14, 2010As I laid on my back to do my very last session of radiation, I was intensely praying to God that even though the first 34 days may not have worked and that we are down to one last day, please take control of this and heal me if it is your will. It was a spiritual moment I'll never forget. I was doing my best to "believe" God was going to heal me that second, if it was His perfect timing.<br />
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Every radiation session includes 7 beams/sections and as the machine goes around my body and reached the very last one, my prayers intensified and I was doing my best not to lose focus. It was down to 10 seconds left of radiation. Radiation, after all, is a major treatment plan for my Sarcoma...And having it not work is problematic...So the last 10 seconds were so cumbersome that I barely got to say anything to the Lord, but He knew my heart and when I heard the radiation buzz stop, I knew my Radiation treatment was over. I heard my heart say deep down "<b>Come what may; the Lord is in control</b>."<br />
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When I went outside, my mom shared with me how she was praying the same prayer I was, regarding the very last day of Radiation being more powerful than all previous ones combined, and that should the Radiation not have worked previously, that it would work today! It was a beautiful confirmation.<br />
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The bell behind us is a bell that every graduate of Radiation Therapy is entitled to ring. It felt a bit awkward, but I still rang it ;)<br />
I remember seeing many people throughout my sessions ring it, and I always asked myself "I wonder how that felt"...and to my non-surprise, it didn't feel THAT great. lol. It's all mental, really. <b>The fact is that Radiation was over! </b><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Towards the end of my 5 weeks of daily visits to the hospital for Radiation sessions, I got somewhat attached to the process and to the group of people I got to see everyday. Unlike any other process out there, which either takes place sporadically, or with a different medical team -- the same Radiation team who welcomed me the first day was there to say good-bye on September 14.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMak1tCnn7CZXaOfSlSqkRk-Z7XSsieZhLiz8LJajrn4tF4QNF2jNhcty7BhBYFNY8uzTxgzXybBTCdvDMUqp8ThBImUZEJGOX5b21QCjUXIOSiCmWo22z1jiKdBjVTb5sMHYdDDueJzQ/s1600/Radiation+Team+Dan.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMak1tCnn7CZXaOfSlSqkRk-Z7XSsieZhLiz8LJajrn4tF4QNF2jNhcty7BhBYFNY8uzTxgzXybBTCdvDMUqp8ThBImUZEJGOX5b21QCjUXIOSiCmWo22z1jiKdBjVTb5sMHYdDDueJzQ/s320/Radiation+Team+Dan.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">They were so nice to me; so helpful, so caring and so loving. They usually played their favorite music in the background while radiation was in process....I looked forward to everyday, wondering what type of music would be playing. I was excited to be done with Radiation, but sad that I would be leaving this team behind and that I wouldn't be seeing them anymore. It was another chapter closed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">I wish everyone was like these 2 women: happy, laughing, smiling and positive. Who wouldn't want to be around them? Aside from a single mother nurse in the PET Scan department, they were my favorites too. And I'm sure they felt it was mutual, as I tried my best to show them God's Love, as well as God's promises. We had a few conversations and I always told them that "<b>Our Lord is my only Healer, but that I'm hoping their Radiation machines were the means to my healing.</b>"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">I even got attached to my 2 Ethiopian friends who ran the Valet service at the Radiation center. They would take my car everyday and we'd have a few seconds to exchange small conversations. They were such nice people, and I was so happy to take a picture with them before leaving on my last day. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I would sometimes have Christian music playing in my car and wouldn't bother shutting it off so that my friends could listen to the music that I liked. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I went home after having finished Radiation and took a picture of my Cross-hair: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><br />
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</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It looked like the map of Texas, lol. But I was glad that I could now clean and shower that part of my body, without worrying about taking the traces off!<b> </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>I was now officially done with all my Pre-Surgery treatments!</b> I was given 4 weeks off to regain strength and to get ready for my surgery. My family's trip to East Europe was a few days away. <b>God is good, always!</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"></div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-34702026230160832942010-10-12T01:45:00.002-05:002010-10-12T01:50:32.294-05:00Colonoscopy - September 8, 2010After letting my Doctor know that I had some bleeding, he opted me out of Chemo Cycle 6, and decided that I should do a Colonoscopy.<br />
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I didn't really know what a Colonoscopy was, but I remember seeing my father go through it a few months prior. He was drinking liquids the night before his test and complaining about how bad the solution tasted. My dad is the type of person who is able to eat or drink anything without any questions asked. Whether snails or any other delicatessen out there; he's in for the fun. So when I saw him making faces while drinking his one and a half gallon liquid mix (which seemed to me like water), I thought he was acting; but as I followed his footsteps, I understood what it was about...The tables have turned and it was his turn to laugh at me while drinking...lol.<br />
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</div>The next morning, I woke up very hungry, and that's maybe why the day seemed awfully long, as I was waiting for my appointment (3pm). Minutes were ticking by slowly, and I was, for once, more than ready to go to the hospital. I knew a big meal awaited me after the process.<br />
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The time came, and I was admitted to <b>Room #2</b>, where I was asked to change to a hospital gown.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The assistant to the Doctor who was going to perform the Colonoscopy dropped by and explained to us what the process was about. He also allowed time for us to ask questions. He was a nice and sharp guy in his late thirties. I knew by his accent that he was FOB (Fresh Off the Boat) Jewish, but when I told him I'm his Lebanese neighbor, he didn't really take the invitation to joking too well...Oh well, as long as he didn't rip my intestines apart, I was OK with him being a bit unfriendly. Politics always has its way anyways. Wow, that's quite a wordplay.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When he left, my parents and I had about fifteen minutes to chat before I was taken away. I wasn't nervous, but I wasn't totally comfortable either. Just imagining a long metallic wired camera going through my body from inside made me indifferent about going in, although knowing I would be knocked out. The nurse assured me I would be sleeping....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As I am called to go into the room, the Doctor welcomes me. I had a big smile on my face. For the first time in my life, I was going into (let's call it an Operating Room) a mini OR and a Doctor with a suit welcomed me! I was shocked to see him not dressed in a white suit, rather a regular suit men would wear to work or church. I made a comment about that, and he laughed back saying that's how he does things. I liked the originality and I was now a fan of Colonoscopies, lol. Our relationship was off to a good start while the FOB Jewish guy was standing right next to him. I can't remember if he found any of this amusing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A minute before starting, the nurse injects me with Anesthesia. They were all looking at me, probably waiting for me to sleep or pass out. I didn't. They said it was OK to stay awake as long as there is no pain...So they went about their thing, and a minute later I really started feeling the pain of the camera inside of me, moving about freely, so the Doctor asked the nurse to inject me with more Anesthesia. Similarly to the Biopsy, even after 3 injections (3x more Anesthesia than your average Joe), I managed to stay awake the whole time and watched them do the whole process -- there was a nice 24" LCD screen right next to me and I was watching the camera go through my body. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For a minute, I forgot that what I was looking at was happening inside of me. I was drowsy and watching what seemed to be an unfathomable speed of camera movement. It was like watching a screen that takes you through a tunnel at high speeds, not knowing what to expect next. It was kind of fun for a few moments. And with some thought, I was able to link the mild pain or uncomfortable sensation inside of me to the screen. It wasn't that exciting watching the organs, considering the blood, fluids and other liquids roaming about the body. Overall, I was ready for it to be over...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was relieved to know it was finished so fast. It wasn't a very difficult process, but it can be somewhat uncomfortable at times. <b>The Doctor immediately shared with me that my Colon was clear and that there was no sign of tumor anywhere in that area!</b> <b><u>Praise God!</u> </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Hebrews 13:15</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>"Through Him then let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge His name</i><i>"</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am training my mind to thank Him for every little detail in my life, the seen and the unseen, as every good thing is from Him, literally every single thing. When there is mutual respect between 2 people, the bond grows stronger, and that's how it is with God when He sees that we are thankful and acknowledging that He is the source of all good things! It also feels good to thank Him! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Although He sometimes allows for not so good things to happen in our lives, He has a bigger plan for us which we might not see or understand. Ultimately it still boils down to something good, through bad or tough experiences. We just need to stay the course, and faithfully....and then...watch out...Be amazed at what He has in store for us!</div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-44034785991284459132010-10-10T00:43:00.001-05:002010-10-10T23:57:03.246-05:00Some Randomness for a change...<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">On <b>August 24</b>, one day before meeting with my doctor for the end of Cycle 5, I decided to build a chair I had bought for my desk in my room. It was a completely random day and I started working on putting it together around 5pm. Halfway through this and about 30 minutes later, my sister enters my room and tells me that my cousin in Wilmington, NC was doing the exact same thing at the same second!! So ironic and so funny!! Here are our pictures! </div><div><br />
</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEMdw_GPqlUlBcKMLx_7oGb6QK93AIlzUZz5gElT0GSKOXK1qf0476LQh9PgAN3SHBxLYs0SEqY_LTOAvUqaNDb4CdNIo5AUu9bSKPsuNzndtQR3nYU2VvV2TzFcJ7kUvexfdyggPoiAA/s1600/Daniel+Putting+Up+Chair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEMdw_GPqlUlBcKMLx_7oGb6QK93AIlzUZz5gElT0GSKOXK1qf0476LQh9PgAN3SHBxLYs0SEqY_LTOAvUqaNDb4CdNIo5AUu9bSKPsuNzndtQR3nYU2VvV2TzFcJ7kUvexfdyggPoiAA/s320/Daniel+Putting+Up+Chair.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaVtvtkKJPZH_5K7wUsYweLAtfGJFhW5j9RRucGqHbaBDoN-B13j8XXR3nlnD5o0gNjFyA2IXuFGRzChn6ElmhQ45sQ3p0P5zybiGeYV3svBpiE_-4RgoLkxy9onoHDPeyxgoCfyRtvi8/s1600/Lena+putting+Chair+together.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaVtvtkKJPZH_5K7wUsYweLAtfGJFhW5j9RRucGqHbaBDoN-B13j8XXR3nlnD5o0gNjFyA2IXuFGRzChn6ElmhQ45sQ3p0P5zybiGeYV3svBpiE_-4RgoLkxy9onoHDPeyxgoCfyRtvi8/s320/Lena+putting+Chair+together.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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I give props to her for even trying to put the chair together. It's not the easiest of things, specially for a girl who might have other things to do ;)<br />
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In case any of you ever pictured me on my computer writing this blog, wonder no more. Here is where it's all happening, with the new chair of course:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJW02fphzfJUJ7aU8nNu55rvpvOqGOgN9R3vUWObrhxv0tJdow-nHwbIToQB8SclWPWf5uu7PbFPDSdDk5wJXvkP8NUB5R0cISRr1l-m_BSENULkM449MHMEVA4oo2Vl20VgAzsm_0Z0I/s1600/Dan+Desk.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJW02fphzfJUJ7aU8nNu55rvpvOqGOgN9R3vUWObrhxv0tJdow-nHwbIToQB8SclWPWf5uu7PbFPDSdDk5wJXvkP8NUB5R0cISRr1l-m_BSENULkM449MHMEVA4oo2Vl20VgAzsm_0Z0I/s320/Dan+Desk.JPG" /></a></div><br />
</div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-59436260383052845942010-09-21T11:05:00.002-05:002010-10-10T23:55:28.249-05:00Post-Cycle 5: Facts, Remarks and Things to be Joyful for....I was expecting pretty dramatical physical performance having combined Chemo with Radiation. It really hit me on<b> Day 5 </b>of Radiation which was also <b>Day 10</b> in my Chemo Cycle (lowest blood counts) -- on <b>August 11,</b> my fatigue was one to remember. I got home from radiation, and was planning to do some reading, only to find out that my eyes were so heavy to the point of me struggling to keep them open in midday; I was more than ready to pass out. I rushed my mom in preparing lunch so that I can hibernate upstairs.<br />
As planned, immediately after lunch, I took a 3 hour afternoon nap and woke up only to prevent my body from getting into jet-lag mode so that I can sleep at a decent hour at night. Had that not been my worry, I could have probably slept through the morning -- a myth and a reality I highly doubt since I'm not a sleeper type and usually cannot get more than 7 hours at a time....I guess it'll make us all wonder.<br />
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Looking back and seeing how I was already midway in my 5th month was consoling...I remember meeting a gentleman while waiting to get admitted on my 3rd Day of Chemo Cycle 1. I was still in the beginning of the race and my body was so weak since it wasn't used to Chemo. I wore blankets while waiting in the hospital, carried my mask with me diligently, was fully aware of everyone around me and was always curious in knowing what the next step was. It was too eventful, and too new for me. It was a new world that I became apart of, whether I liked it or not. I had become one with hospitals, doctors and medicines.<br />
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This gentleman was sitting across from me and my mother. He was in his early thirties and I struck conversation with him. He was a big guy, with biceps nearly as big as half my thigh. He also had an army necklace hanging down his white t-shirt. I would have never guessed he had cancer had it not been for his shaved head and eyebrows. He still looked very strong and in shape.<br />
He was reading a newspaper, but immediately put it down when he saw that I was so interested in chatting with him. He was also a Sarcoma patient, and was diagnosed back in 2007. He fought it and was in remission by mid-2008. In early 2010, the Sarcoma came back and new spots were found in his lungs. He is still fighting this as we speak.<br />
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I remember vividly how he shared his story with my mother and I. He was a very athletic person who ran over 150 miles per month, consistently. He passionately enlightened us about the first couple cycles and how being sick in bed is nothing out of the norm, even for a big guy like him. He told me that by the first Cycle, he was already on blood transfusions and got 1-2 every cycle up until surgery. That really scared me. It's one thing to give blood, but it's another thing to sit in bed and get other people's blood...I just don't like this thought. I told myself that I'd do whatever it takes to prevent this, if it is in my control.<br />
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Now that I am only a few weeks away from surgery and that all Chemo is done, I can tap myself on the back knowing that <b>I made it through the toughest Chemo cycles for 5 months </b><u><b>without one blood transfusion</b></u><b>! </b>I never had to spend a night in the hospital either! It was a miracle and an answered prayer from God! He is truly with me at all times! This is a greater miracle than any of you can imagine, and I am in awe for how the Lord is taking care of me. There is no strength and no healing hand like His.<br />
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My delicate, weak and thin body sustained the damage better than the army-like person that I discussed above. It's no surprise though, as He was with me, giving me the strength and the endurance needed:<br />
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<b>Colossians 1:11</b><br />
<i>"...being strengthened with all power according to His glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and joyfully giving thanks to the Father."</i><br />
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While the verse above is pertaining to spiritual endurance, it can be compared to our physical endurance through trials. You might not think that God had anything to do with me not getting blood transfusions, which is fair, but I personally believe He relieved me of this headache.<br />
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As the Cycles were cumulative, my Hemoglobin would drop lower every time. My parents were aware of the problem we were facing, and they really helped feed me nutritious foods to prevent it. Any Hemoglobin level below 7.0 means automatic admission to the hospital. I reached 7.2 during Cycle 4. I was really close...For some reason, my levels were higher during Cycle 5.<br />
I called a friend right before my blood draw on my lowest blood count day (Cycle 5) and shared with him how I was very worried my Hemoglobin would be lower than 7.0. I wasn't ready to be admitted to the hospital. I really hate being there...But God worked a miracle and I was spared. My levels were 8.2! It was a miracle! This is one thing I am very joyful for!<br />
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<b>Psalm 6:9</b><br />
<i>"The Lord has heard my supplication, the Lord receives my prayer."</i><br />
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On the flipside, the <b>VinCristine </b>Chemo mix is known to really affect the veins. My veins used to be pronounced on my arms, very visible and very strong. As of today, they are not noticeable and well hidden underneath my arms. A few posts ago, I mentioned how I was proud of myself for getting used to blood draws. The fear and the pain they imposed was something I started paying little attention to, considering I had bigger problems ahead.<br />
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Unfortunately, the last couple blood draws have been beyond painful....I finally asked one nurse why they were hurting so much more than before....She told me that my veins were 'collapsing' and that due to Chemo, the nurses are having to dig deeper with the needle to draw the blood. I wasn't too surprised the journey was going to get tougher, even when it comes to something I thought I overcame...It's pretty sad.<br />
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The other observation regarding those blood draws are their duration. While they used to take a few seconds, they are now taking around 30 seconds, if not longer. I think the blood flow out of my weaker veins is now slower. I am not sure if this has to do with lower Hemoglobin levels or not. I try my best not to distract or talk to the nurses anymore so that they can rush the blood draw. It bothers me when they start talking to others around me while drawing my blood, therefore extending the duration of the needle in my arm...It's discomforting, and I get very anxious very fast.<br />
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I used to allow anyone to prick me. Not anymore. If the nurse is a student in training, I usually request another nurse. I hate to break it to them by telling them that I'd rather have a more experienced nurse, but all I have to do is show them my bruised up arm and they understand. It's not a crime to switch to a more confident nurse since I am no longer like before.<br />
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Finally, it was my goal to reach surgery having used my <b>RIGHT ARM</b> alone for all blood draws and IV's. Halfway through Cycle 5, I decided to give my right arm some rest, and started using my left arm. My right arm had it pretty bad. As soon as it recovers though, I plan to use it again.<br />
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Towards the end of August, my eyebrows starting growing back a bit. I was super excited for a few days...only to find out that a week later, this progress had diminished and my eyebrows were close to non-existent again....Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-48616276730172581212010-09-13T22:09:00.005-05:002010-09-14T11:36:59.829-05:00Chemo CYCLE 5 - August 2, 2010 - August 25, 2010On <b>July 30th</b>, 2 days after meeting with my doctor, <b>Dr. Patel</b>, I was to get '<i>marked</i>' for Radiation. I initially thought they would use a Sharpie Marker while putting an X on the exact location they plan to radiate, but it turns out the process was more detailed, more specific...and of course included some pain, although mild. In the beginning, they had me go through a machine similar to the <b>CT Scan. </b>Notice my eyebrows were totally gone! This day marked the climax of my ghost-looking days....I had reached this point before even beginning Cycle 5 of Chemo.<br />
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After laying flat on the air suction platform, the Tech guy sucked the air out so that the shape of my body would get molded on the blue cushion cradles.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZeWZyFnEyCmAwW4_iPW5LwZmJ5z6a69xtQYHYisVGq3DrTur0aig9UK9ex3JS9KmMkCiv58PzsSYD_D-pF0O8n57HBLaE4d0NkVoRwg3K8lnH3Buzm94aQTs0fZMy6YTSrJ73rSadIIY/s1600/IMAG0010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZeWZyFnEyCmAwW4_iPW5LwZmJ5z6a69xtQYHYisVGq3DrTur0aig9UK9ex3JS9KmMkCiv58PzsSYD_D-pF0O8n57HBLaE4d0NkVoRwg3K8lnH3Buzm94aQTs0fZMy6YTSrJ73rSadIIY/s320/IMAG0010.jpg" /></a></div><br />
A few moments later, he tells me that we need to 'Tattoo' 3 dots on my hips: 1 on the left side and 2 on the right side. He used thin and long needles to prick me. I now have 3 little dot Tattoos which will never go away, a sign of remembrance of my radiation days. I don't mind them at all. They're barely visible considering I'll have a scar through half my body. And yes, I know!! I put on lots of weight ;) Thanks for the reminder...lol<br />
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You might question what I'm about to share with you and maybe immediately react by thinking that "because he is sick and is going through tough times, he is saying what he is saying." This is not true. I always believed in this, but was a silent Lukewarm Christian. This is no longer the case. I will share my faith and share my true beliefs with anyone who is willing to lend an ear. There is no time to waste, and I hope, that you too, through whatever circumstances life puts you in are able to draw closer to God and recognize that <b>Jesus Christ is the only way to salvation. </b>Please keep in mind that I love you all, despite your background or your religious beliefs. I am not trying to offend anyone. I'm only sharing my take on this most important topic.<br />
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In my situation, because I was stubborn, selfish and unable to detach from this world and what it had to offer, I was sinking slowly but surely, and found myself wasting years and eventually forgetting God to some extent. God, religion and church didn't trigger much in my heart. I tried to find the joy in it, but I just didn't feel it for a long time... This is why I thank God day and night for my life today and where I stand as I write this. <b>My cancer has been my biggest blessing. </b><br />
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Don't forget that I had the choice to turn my back and keep looking away from God. It's easier, and living the life that the world imposes on you is just what makes sense. It's also more fun, more tempting and can seem more world-rewarding. But that's as far as it goes. You're living for the moment only.<br />
Not because I was born in a Christian home does it make me bias or blindly following my family's spiritual and religious footsteps. I found this truth throughout the years through personal experiences, but now more than ever. And it's real. Very real. I also feel the joy it grants. It's abundant.<br />
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You might also debate with me about <b>Jesus Christ being the only way to salvation</b>. If you believe in the Bible, it must be a no-brainer as the Scriptures address this confirmation non-stop. It's time that we put those verses to work. If you're not a Christian, I urge you to do your homework before setting foot on another religious or atheistic path. But before exploring the truth, please pray to God to touch you and reveal Himself to you in one way or the other (not necessarily physically or through a dream, but rather a confirmation or an inner feeling of some sort). He is alive and will listen to your plea. He will tickle your heart. And at that point, don't relieve that sensation, but instead, feed it. Keep exploring it, and pray again and again, even if your prayer is of the shortest form. However, it must be sincere. Oh, and if you are at this point, please contact me. I would love to talk to you about it, as I will be very joyful too!<br />
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<b>Luke 15:7</b><br />
Jesus said <i>"I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent."</i><br />
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On <b>August 2nd</b>, I was to start my <b>6 day Chemo cycle</b>. I was afraid and more nervous about this cycle as the chemo dosage was going to be stronger and more cumulative, and I had to 'last' an extra day. I usually couldn't wait to get disconnected on my <b>5th day</b>, and I begin getting antsy on <b>Day 3</b>.<b> Days 3</b> and <b>4 </b>were the hardest because they are 'full fledged' Chemo days, whereas <b>Day 5</b> has a different feel to it as I am waking up knowing that by the time I sleep at night, I would no longer be dealing with chemo infusions.<br />
However, this time, I would have to extend this antsy feeling by a day...The thought made me dread the cycle that's to come. I was uncomfortable, simply uncomfortable, but not really stressed.<br />
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While driving to the hospital, I immediately remembered Christ, and how right before His Crucifixion He was praying in the <b>Garden of Gesthemane</b> and <u>sweating blood </u>due to great stress and anguish.<br />
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<b>Luke 22:44</b><br />
<i>“And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.”</i><br />
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Although my Chemo dosage was proven to be the highest and toughest one MD Anderson gives to any patient, I didn't feel a fraction of the anguish and stress that Christ felt. I can't really call it stress because I wasn't stressed out....I was simply not looking forward to some tough times knowing I wouldn't be 'at ease.' I realized how my experience was nothing close to Christs' because I wasn't even sweating, let alone sweating blood. How much tougher and stronger, and more painful was the cross?? Wow!!! It's something we cannot comprehend. All these thoughts rushed through my mind as I was heading to the hospital...It gave me strength to face what Im about to face without giving myself much credit for doing it because God is with me, always!<br />
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I then imagined going through this <b>6 Day</b> Cycle for a friend, a family member, a person who has persecuted or hurt me, anyone....I don't know if I could, and I don't know if I have the humility to want to do it. Im just putting things in perspective so we can all see what a great sacrifice <b>Jesus Christ</b> did for all of us, and yet the world is blind in seeing how majestic His love is for us. We turn the other cheek and go about our lives selfishly. <u>We need to stop living selfish lives, forgetful of our God.</u> I cannot stress this enough.<br />
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In <b>Matthew 16:25</b>, Jesus says <i>"Whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it."</i><br />
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We always want to do what we want, and not what God designed us to do. We wake up every morning forgetting that without His grace, none of us would be breathing or reading this blog right now...<br />
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<b>Revelation 4:11</b><br />
<i>"You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being."</i><br />
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Most of us bear the Christianity label, and perhaps wear a cross around our necks, only to accept obeying <u>small parts of the Bible </u>-- just as long as it doesn't mess with our daily lives and doesn't cross into our <i>comfort zones</i>. We may distort and deny the rest. Why have generations lost the true meaning of '<i><b>bearing the cross</b></i>'?<br />
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I look back and am ashamed at myself for how I've lived part of my life...but I'm still young and I still have time to prove myself and prove that God is ultimately the prize I want to attain. Anything worldly is worthless. <u>We're only living a milli-second flash when comparing our earthly time with eternity...</u>What foolish person cannot understand this concept?<br />
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I can totally relate to how Radical Muslims do what they do. They are so convinced that their martyrdom will grant them access to heaven; something totally worth it for them. They'd rather sacrifice their time on earth for eternal joy in heaven. I feel with them, and understand their mindset. (Whether the Qur'an requires this or not is out of the scope of this topic). The same applies to Christianity though, but in a different way. <b>Jesus Christ is Love </b>and He simply wants us to love Him and live a harmonious, relationship-centered Godly life. We don't have to do too much to earn grace and salvation. He already died for us.<br />
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If you don't question your salvation, there's something wrong -- we are all blinded by our <b>pride</b>. I pray this does not hinder your faith. If there's one thing I learned so far throughout my cancer is that human beings are so frail, so weak, so fragile...We're simply nothing. Everything can seem to be going for us, but in one instant, one second, it can all be taken away -- whether through a severe health disease, a deadly car accident etc...<br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b>James 4:14</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i>"Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes."</i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><br />
</i></div><b>Francis Chan</b> said in his book "<b>Crazy Love</b>" <i>"Throughout time, somewhere between forty-five billion and one hundred twenty-five billion people have lived on this earth. That's 125,000,000,000. In about fifty years (give or take a couple decades), no one will remember you. Everyone you know will be dead. Certainly no one will care what job you had, what car you drove, what school you attended, or what clothes you wore."</i><br />
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If you're not interested in giving more than 0-1% of your time to God, then that's your decision, but He deserves so much more. Whatever we're distracted with is immaterial in the big scope of things. We go about our daily lives, day after day, neglecting the reason we are, and neglecting the God who created us! What are you busy with tomorrow? Studying for an exam? Headed to work to make a measly few $$? Going to the hairdresser to look better for the night? All of this worthless!<br />
When I think about these things, I realize just how empty and self-driven we are. We think happiness is measured with earthly achievements or materialistic things, perhaps even sexual success or sexual pleasure, but the yield remains "<b>overall emptiness</b>". We should want and desire a loving God to lean on and to feel at peace, to get the blessings He wants to give His children; most of these blessings unseen to the eye. We should be passionate about a God who wants the best for us, and who promises an eternity of joy for His children!<br />
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Going back to the topic of the Crucifixion...As powerful as Jesus is, he could easily have avoided the Crucifixion. He could have brought down a legion of angels to protect him. He could have made his skin impenetrable. He could have anesthetized his pain so that he felt nothing. But he chose to do none of these things. Rather, he willingly chose to genuinely be “<b>wounded for our transgressions</b>” and “<b>bruised for our iniquities</b>” so that he could truly pay for our sins and suffer human death. Are you comprehending this vast love? For as much as your mind can fathom, it's just not enough, it's more than that. It makes me want to try and live an obedient life, an all-encompassing Biblical life, a <b>Christ-centered life</b>, not simply a "<i>I don't steal, I don't kill, I go to church on Sundays</i>" type of Christian life, because as blinding as it may seem, it's worthless too.<br />
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<b>Francis Chan</b> puts it in a more compelling style: "<i>Most of our thoughts are centered on the money we want to make, the school we want to attend, the body we aspire to have, the spouse we want to marry, the kind of person we want to become...But the fact is that nothing should concern us more than our relationship with God; it's about eternity and nothing compares with that." </i><br />
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Reach out and join me on this journey. You'll definitely look back and jump from joy when you realize this was the best decision you've ever made.<br />
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<b>Daniel Webster</b> once said <i>"The greatest thought that has ever entered my mind is that one day I will have to stand before a holy God and give an account of my life."</i><br />
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A few guys and I started a weekly small group meeting, which includes accountability to remain accountable to each other. Our first topic is <b>Humility</b>...We're reading an awesome book titled <b>Humility</b> by <b>Andrew Murray</b> -- a must read for everyone. We all have pride in its various shapes and forms. It's something we need to fight with God's help, to rid ourselves from it in order to draw closer to God.<br />
In the first chapter I learned about how much humility it took Christ to do what He did for us on the cross. <br />
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<b>Isaiah 53:7</b><br />
“<i>He was oppressed and He was afflicted, <u>Yet He did not open His mouth</u>; He was led like a lamb to the slaughter...so He did not open His mouth.”</i><br />
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<b>Philippians 2:8-9</b><br />
<i>"And being found in appearance as a man, <u>He humbled himself</u>, and became obedient to death - even death on a cross!"</i><br />
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If you really think about this, you can't but respect and love such a man, a man who lived to the fullest the concept of Love and selflessness.<br />
If you're still unable to feel me on this, think about it this way:<br />
Imagine you're the son of a diplomat, the son of a president or the son of a CEO. Would you spend your teenage years as well as your twenties with a low-key, humble personality? You probably wouldn't. Every person who comes in contact with you would know who your father was. I am sure you would have pride when it comes to your family's status. You wouldn't tolerate anyone persecuting you or hating on you. Your bad, temper-filled side would shortly thereafter be shown to all because you do possess a certain power through your father...<br />
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But Christ wasn't like this. Although some people knew who He was, it wasn't until His last 3 years that He was proclaiming who He was and who His Father was -- but only to save you and me! His message of Hope which shakes the world to this day never ceases to draw many for a reason...If you too, are shaken today or have been recently moved by His spirit, don't hold back, instead acknowledge that you're a sinner and that He died on the cross for your sins and pray that He enters into your heart as you proclaim Him Lord and Saviour over your life...It's simple, yet the world has a hard time taking this free gift -- a costly grace through His death and His Love for us.<br />
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<b>John 14:6</b><br />
Jesus answered, <i>"I am the way and the truth and the life."</i><br />
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Quoting <b>Andrew Murray</b> "<i>His humility became our salvation. His salvation became our humility.</i>"<b> It takes humility to accept the word of God and to accept the fact that we are NOT in control of our lives.</b> Humility is the most important trait in growing towards Christ's likeness and bearing fruit. <u>From within humility flows love, forgiveness, gentleness, goodness and most importantly faith.</u><br />
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</div><div>One of my best friends, whom I mentioned in the previous post, made me the most memorable surprise ever. He was to leave Houston for good a few days later. He walked into my room on my <b>2nd Day</b> of Chemo wearing a hat. On his average day, he'll wear a hat, so it wasn't uncommon for me to see him wearing a hat. A few seconds later, I notice his sideburns are gone and his hair is all shaved off! I looked at him and smiled and pointed it out; he then took off the hat, and I was thankful he was there for me, standing in solidarity even through his shaved head. It meant a lot to me. But I felt there was something more to his shaved head...I could tell he was hiding something from me. Before I could even make a comment about anything, he turned around and alas, he had a professional hairdresser carve the "I LOVE DH" on the back of his head: </div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Even Joanne got a kick out of it too! :) </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzJJpHIso3eBUOr9gNOE3G_LPKZROw5vZdW0bfDGB_t7R0iumwJX-lRn0D0PlhSnuNtRBd2tQpqRPpwo5W4L6EG2XX35dMPQ58pII5PC6Czvt2Wyzj60_rd9O8Emr_wdG5p8S8ds9i4ZA/s1600/IMG_0049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzJJpHIso3eBUOr9gNOE3G_LPKZROw5vZdW0bfDGB_t7R0iumwJX-lRn0D0PlhSnuNtRBd2tQpqRPpwo5W4L6EG2XX35dMPQ58pII5PC6Czvt2Wyzj60_rd9O8Emr_wdG5p8S8ds9i4ZA/s320/IMG_0049.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">The thought was ingenious, thoughtful and very memorable. It's one of those things that I'll never forget; I'll imagine the drawing in my head years from now, specifically when I see or remember this friend. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Towards the end of <b>Cycle 5</b>, I bled a few times when using the restroom. It happened at random instances over the past couple of months due to Chemo which causes some serious constipation...But I managed to get it behind me. This time however, it came more intensely and scared me at first. I wanted to share this with my doctor to make sure it was safe to continue into <b>Cycle 6</b>. The Chemo is known to destroy organs, mostly the Kidneys...I was troubled knowing it could imply some interior organ damage. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">On <b>August 25</b>, my family and I met with my doctor and I shared the news with him. He got a bit confused because the bleeding caused by Chemo usually takes place during the first 10 days of the cycle, if at all...Mine started on <b>Day 17. </b>It was unusual.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Since surgery time was nearing and that the doctor didn't want to delay surgery any longer, he decided to set me up with the <b>Gastrointestinal (GI)</b> department to do a <b>Colonoscopy</b>. He also decided to cancel <b>Cycle 6</b>, as surgery cannot take place until 4 weeks after Radiation and the last cycle of Chemo are done. It gives the needed time for the effect of those treatments to take place. If we were to wait for the <b>Colonoscopy </b>and then do <b>Cycle 6</b>, it could have skewed things by about a week roughly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">My doctor looked at me and smiled and told me: <b>"Daniel, this is my birthday present to you, I am cancelling Cycle 6!"</b> I was so relieved, and only then did I realize how annoying and cumbersome those cycles were. I'm always ready to put on a fight and sustain the damage if I can, but I will not be opposed to the thought of any single day of Chemo that is taken off my shoulders. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">I had also asked him about taking a few days off, without any hospital visits or ANYTHING of that sort. I took permission from him and my surgeon, and we worked it out so that I can take 3 weeks off before surgery! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><b>September 28</b>, my birthday, happens to fall right in the middle! <b>God is always good, and never ceases to lift my spirits up and remind me that He is there with me. All glory to Him! </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><b>A few pictures from this Cycle: </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><b><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This picture was actually taken at the end of Cycle 4 and one day before Cycle 5 began</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW3bNuxGVWiwv3LGj2aQ-7lUfag8eFeOHdslOnnHsgY7uXz_seU7lJDCamFAhMkggC6JIjbFOAtjkw2yClpBI0XQoW-QsxwqMQUNErBgvP5LnryLLuaX0wR4yFK_OOrDcTkYeQdxZS1jE/s1600/Dan+and+Rahwan+Siblings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW3bNuxGVWiwv3LGj2aQ-7lUfag8eFeOHdslOnnHsgY7uXz_seU7lJDCamFAhMkggC6JIjbFOAtjkw2yClpBI0XQoW-QsxwqMQUNErBgvP5LnryLLuaX0wR4yFK_OOrDcTkYeQdxZS1jE/s320/Dan+and+Rahwan+Siblings.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-54322325508243399092010-08-31T16:08:00.000-05:002010-09-13T22:11:39.776-05:00Chemo CYCLE 4 - July 5, 2010 - August 2, 2010On the last day of Cycle 3, friends came over for 2 games of Risk. It was 12:30am, and I was scheduled for Chemo at 6am! Fun times followed by not so fun times... My friend (the die roller) is known to never give up a game until each and every army soldier is wiped off the map. This pushes the game an extra 30 minutes...lol, he's a funny guy, because even if I quit the game early although winning, he'd consider himself victorious....so I have to keep on going to prove him wrong ;)<br />
However, playing this game with him changes the whole dynamic of the game. He's the most fun person to play a board game with. I truly love our memorable times together!<br />
Here is a picture before we started, followed by a video towards the end of the game...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: auto;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF8hgb96K-oW-04I6wfl4Rim4SyCs4CW0IPziyll5P2mpSzQVfeJ4N2EzZNq714bvgn4j1Gdn7WPbfrKysXdM6o8Rz1X2K5zmcXjYSBk3kGseL0bUUUYALqc-_7FzO9-RWWqxLJJa_lDc/s1600/Shabeib+Risk+Game.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF8hgb96K-oW-04I6wfl4Rim4SyCs4CW0IPziyll5P2mpSzQVfeJ4N2EzZNq714bvgn4j1Gdn7WPbfrKysXdM6o8Rz1X2K5zmcXjYSBk3kGseL0bUUUYALqc-_7FzO9-RWWqxLJJa_lDc/s320/Shabeib+Risk+Game.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: auto;"><br />
</div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='448' height='372' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwwzwEs_Kp0JodhY6aE2yyGBbU7EXTuPWXIkx5ocx806-bvBd93001OpbCrr3gdAFAj8UGlR5BYQ3uvPQGKdA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
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Cycle 4 wasn't as bad as I had anticipated. I was a bit afraid of starting it, knowing how terrible it was during Cycle 3 with respect to the smells, but my body somehow denied those smells and I was more 'confident' about this whole chemo thing. The mask helped me a bit, but I didn't use it much.<br />
<br />
Before I really get into details about this cycle, let me include the song that lifted me up during this cycle's tough times. I had heard this song many, many a times before, but it wasn't until I was in the midst of it all that I discovered its beauty. A friend had also sent it to me a few months ago, but it didn't mean to me as much as it does now.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwQlt1vwl43X60PTNPHLWeDQnxdcYk4t5SuTFZRJHByQneNsaLLJslYkKUzBNgX6YeELKfFumr8rnGbVHobgw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here are the links if the video isn't working for whatever reason:</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TCunuL58odQ&ob=av2e">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TCunuL58odQ&ob=av2e</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">An acoustic version of the song:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GIdvtRcPGBg">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GIdvtRcPGBg</a></div><br />
<br />
The words that really touched me were:<br />
<b>"I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory, </b><br />
<b>And I realise just how beautiful You are, </b><br />
<b>And how great Your affections are for me."</b><br />
<br />
I try to stay reminded that through my suffering, my bond with Christ grows stronger, as does my comfort and peace. They all grow simultaneously and go hand in hand. It's His promise after all:<br />
<br />
<b>2 Corinthians 1:5</b><br />
<i>"For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows."<br />
<br />
</i><br />
What keeps me going is also the fact that this race or journey isn't mine, but God's. It brings me great joy to hope to see that His glory be revealed through my suffering. Although nothing close to what the disciples and martyrs suffered, it gives me a glimpse of the truth behind these powerful verses. Nothing else would have consoled me. I can only imagine what reaction I would have had hearing my diagnosis without Christ steering my ship.<br />
<br />
<b>1 Peter 4:13</b><br />
<i>"But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed."<br />
</i> <br />
Without these promises, this journey would be personal, meaningless and a total waste. I would be walking a dark alley all alone -- Even though family and friends are here to help, I would still be the only one who would really feel the pinch. But through Him, I have hope that something better -- beyond my understanding and beyond my now secured salvation -- will come out of this. Why am I so into this? I am happy to live for him: <b>If we are worth dying for, then Jesus must be worth living for! </b><br />
<br />
The words in the David Crowder Band hymn that also totally stole my heart are very simple, yet hard to grasp: <b>"If His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking"</b>. I had put this up as my status on Facebook and 12 people quickly Liked it. My God, my faith, and my salvation cannot be without His unending Grace. A friend then asked me why we would sink, versus swimming and floating as God would help His children from sinking...I told the friend that if one floats or swims, then the picture painted of God's Grace is weak. It wouldn't have an impact at all. The point of the metaphor is to simply show how big, huge, vast, deep etc... is God's Grace towards mankind. I wish we all understood this, but unfortunately we don't, and we will never be able to.<br />
Sometimes people ask me to ask God why this happened to me and I deny the thought because I am not interested in knowing. It's pointless. He has a purpose and His will will be done. As for me, I'll try to do my job along the way...the latter thought falls in the subset of understanding God, of understanding His Love, His Grace, His Faithfulness...If you think you will ever grasp the depth and abundance of these amazing attributes, you're wrong. <br />
And as <b>Francis Chan</b> said in his book "<b>Crazy Love</b>", <i>it's ridiculous for us to think that we have the right to limit God to something we are capable of comprehending...God is so much bigger, so far beyond our time-encased, air/food/sleep-dependent lives.</i><br />
<br />
Shifting gears..Ok, so this cycle totally did it for me! Im looking more and more like a cancer patient. Earlier, one would have to look at me closely to figure out if I was one or not. No one really knew for sure. But this is as far as my pokerface takes me. My skin is much more yellow, my eyebrows are close to gone (this sucks, lol), my eyes are so much lighter in color and my head is shining more than ever! For those of you who might remember, my strong eyebrows were one of my facial characteristics. Almost gone now! I won't complain though...because this is temporary. <br />
The picture below was taken a few days before my eyebrows totally disappeared.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Jyce5JcZAnsK-XD2jR1ifukRRg6RDMjx-SAwAAvQv8UPeu1dfpp07wVfeL7CmluBHqinVAD_3tg2k_eRCAVRAffm_LyekXjtzCMCxIc6sAZj30jw1HMsHYkSJxRtJn9SvACZ0G-pkGg/s1600/IMG_4393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Jyce5JcZAnsK-XD2jR1ifukRRg6RDMjx-SAwAAvQv8UPeu1dfpp07wVfeL7CmluBHqinVAD_3tg2k_eRCAVRAffm_LyekXjtzCMCxIc6sAZj30jw1HMsHYkSJxRtJn9SvACZ0G-pkGg/s320/IMG_4393.JPG" /></a></div><br />
It could however put me in someone else's shoes for a short period of time to experience what others go through: from lower self-esteem to handicaps that might affect different areas in one's life (love life, social life, overall joy and hope, career etc..). When a person loses self-esteem or has a relatively low one, it can be very damaging. I see people with low morale all over the hospital, and it's really depressing. Fortunately, the people who saw me during Cycle 4 got to see how my spirit is still very uplifted and happy....and always hopeful in the Lord.<br />
<br />
Verses such as this one are just so soothing to the soul: <br />
<br />
<b>Romans 15:13</b>"<i>May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."</i> <br />
<br />
Looks matter to everyone, it's a fact. Losing my eyebrows was tougher than losing my hair, or looking yellow at times. And this is why I've been wearing hats lately whenever in public...Looking normal again seems like a dream....Until that day...<br />
<br />
Here's a quick video of this Cycle on <b>Day 2</b> of Chemo. It happened to be the Semifinal between Netherlands and Uruguay. Also notice how I joke with the nurse about adding him on Facebook, haha ;)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='448' height='372' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzXk0jN6bsmKrtwd8xKtJMxsDV14dw_kAvf257YXGSKNGdvs0TjcYvY7TtLqR7jaARRyXdbafxRpOPhqDHrlg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
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On <b>Day 4</b>, the smells issue came to fruition again and I wore the mask for a while.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpvWuZ4Pe45oDGxESJdvJbAU-x6UyJUzH2Kr-AprheYyvzE8lcjCAKX-HTl1E7TR6SAXa604txsH3Y0SVXSAWOatsAfSYwLVXs96bsjxHbcnu-mnIHfTVSCdg5ikxthl_r3AHEv4eAMJ4/s1600/DSC00511.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpvWuZ4Pe45oDGxESJdvJbAU-x6UyJUzH2Kr-AprheYyvzE8lcjCAKX-HTl1E7TR6SAXa604txsH3Y0SVXSAWOatsAfSYwLVXs96bsjxHbcnu-mnIHfTVSCdg5ikxthl_r3AHEv4eAMJ4/s320/DSC00511.JPG" /></a></div><br />
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I know it might look totally dorky, but so be it. It's helped me, without even using the mask's filter.<br />
Here is a short video taken during Chemo...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='448' height='372' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxr0Ee0oLe5axsucC7dVzsrcuqcw8RPOJ2leToXE-hK_YOD225MOCf05d5oTa0vrOS0uLAEuEN7yVe8CZuxDw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
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I don't know about you, but I hate needles. I can't even look at them. Since I started this journey back in April, I averaged one prick every 2 days. Injecting something into my body is usually easier than drawing blood as I am really tired of 'donating' my blood for testing, lol. I find the idea of drawing blood quite disturbing. The good news, however, is that I finally got used to most of these needles! What people have told me is almost true! I'm still working on the <b>IV</b> as that one hurts the most. I don't know if it's stamina or if I am now simply stronger minded, but the pain aspect of it has been reduced, knowing what to expect.<br />
<br />
As I was feeling more confident about this process, a nurse calls my name for another blood draw... It was a tuesday morning and I was ready to go home afterwards. She took me to a room that's different from the norm. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">MD Anderson</span> has a big room with about 12 nurses, bringing in people like cattle, every few minutes, and working on blood draws full-time. The thought is pretty scary; the amount of blood they collect every hour is definitely beyond what our minds can fathom. But for the first time, the shepherd called me to a different room! I didn't know whether to be excited or nervous. She was a nice woman though. I asked her if she was 'easy' on blood draws and if she had a 'soft' hand. She immediately smiled at me and pointed to the wall.<br />
I looked in front of me and saw that she had tons of "Thank you" notes from patients attesting to her excellent work. That gave me some comfort....until I got pricked!! I still remember that prick...It was a super painful blood draw! I couldn't believe what was happening, and couldn't wait till it was over. She immediately covered my arm with a gauze and I couldn't see the carnage until I took it off shortly thereafter. The gauze was totally red due to flowing blood...My arm felt the damage of this 'good' nurse...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4j3inITFcd8iRkPqjZhsVI0D8dbRximjtAux5gylL9XipzA-RvfEYdsDbQd-tf5WiRkqhyphenhyphenK-4r9Ickp1lQ58U9n1oIIu5KhO98NyW5oowsolfW6gxq6xAXatDj0vhErX8NzpLtsMuoZM/s1600/D3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4j3inITFcd8iRkPqjZhsVI0D8dbRximjtAux5gylL9XipzA-RvfEYdsDbQd-tf5WiRkqhyphenhyphenK-4r9Ickp1lQ58U9n1oIIu5KhO98NyW5oowsolfW6gxq6xAXatDj0vhErX8NzpLtsMuoZM/s320/D3.JPG" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Maybe I should censor all these topics and gruesome images, but I doubt a minor would be reading through this blog....lol<br />
The morale of this story is beautifully described in <br />
<b><br />
Psalm 20:7</b><br />
<i>"Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God."<br />
</i><br />
<i></i> I don't know why I trusted this nurse. After all, people mess up and are not perfect, unlike my God who is flawless. As long as I don't put hope, trust and faith in people, I know I can't be disappointed, because the perfection of these attributes belong to God.<br />
<br />
This last blood draw was a setback in my accomplishment of thinking I had overcome this painful and arduous process. But it's ok...I was still in the category of "Two Steps forward and one step back" versus "One step forward and two steps back"....I'm mentally fine with it as long as I'm getting somewhere; I believe I've had quite a run so far, considering this was my 65th prick? Who knows...I've done plenty...but plenty more to go...<br />
<br />
This cycle was super busy...I had an <b>MRI </b>on <b>July 16</b>, a <b>CT Scan</b> and <b>X-Ray</b> on <b>July 21</b> and a <b>PET Scan</b> on <b>July 27</b>. I also met with <b>2 Surgeons</b> as well as my <b>Sarcoma doctor</b> for an update on my tumor after test results came back.<br />
<br />
I wasn't left alone all throughout the recovery period of this cycle. It was pretty intense and each procedure took hours including waiting time etc...Unfortunately, I know the hospital inside out now, and know my way around pretty well....So I am no longer a tourist or a lost guest wandering around. I'm not sure this is a good thing though.<br />
<br />
Although it wasn't my first <b>MRI</b>, I still had trouble with this one...from a different perspective though. The room was freezing cold and I felt the need to ask the Technician for a blanket. He tied my legs (so that I wouldn't move) and snuck my body with the blanket...Then I was inserted into the cylindrical coffin for 35 min....Inside the tube, it was pretty hot despite a small vent opening coming from the top. That helped for just a bit. I had no problem not moving because my tumor and pain were controlled, unlike my first nightmarish <b>MRI </b>experience. However, 20 minutes into this test, I started really sweating and spent a few minutes guessing what minute I was on. I didn't want to stop the testing only for me to have to re-do the 35 min. I tried lasting a few more minutes and I felt my whole body sweating bullets. It was unbearable. So I call out to the Technician and impatiently ask him to take me out, unless we were almost done.<br />
He tells me <i>"Daniel, you have 8 seconds to go!"</i>....I was totally relieved. Removing the blanket over me and getting out of that coffin felt better than eating a Double Whopper at Burger King. <br />
<br />
Waking up at 6am for a<b> CT Scan </b>isn't the most exciting event. <b>July 21st, 2010 </b>deemed to be one of the longest and most humbling days. A day I'll never forget.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqQ0HXKml6eukt5PQcEbr-Az19rCgxMmRrbuzCI8dOzC5hrauq5R9456GPsrtASsiAl4dS7_ej6fy2DCDZB_RubUgpvf8cX2iW_EZdaeiwRMlrCgQDcYbxZWv5wglESheP_Ii4Xty5TT0/s1600/IMAG0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqQ0HXKml6eukt5PQcEbr-Az19rCgxMmRrbuzCI8dOzC5hrauq5R9456GPsrtASsiAl4dS7_ej6fy2DCDZB_RubUgpvf8cX2iW_EZdaeiwRMlrCgQDcYbxZWv5wglESheP_Ii4Xty5TT0/s320/IMAG0001.jpg" /></a></div><br />
The <b>CT Scan</b> requires an<b> IV</b>, similarly to the <b>MRI </b>and to the <b>PET Scan</b>. That's why I hate those processes. Like I said earlier in this post, I still have a small fear of <b>IV</b>'s, due to the 5 failed attempts of putting one in my arm in <b>St. Lukes</b> back in April when I was diagnosed. The marks of those failed <b>IV</b>'s still linger on my arm, 5 months later. It had to be the most painful experience I've ever had. Memories of the pain dwell in my mind and a small fear kicks in, but I am learning to be strong with<b> IV</b>'s as well. Since they're not as frequent as regular blood draws, it might be a while for me to get used to them. I don't mind finishing this journey and not accomplishing this though, lol. <br />
<br />
Later on that day (<b>July 21st</b>), my family and I were to meet with<b> Dr. Lewis</b>, my <b>Surgeon</b>. It was a big day for us as we were getting the <b>MRI/CT Scan</b> results through what the surgeon would tell us. After all, they are planning to cut me up...so it better be a much anticipated meeting.<br />
<br />
She walked in with her team of 5. I smelled trouble. One of the team members was a younger guy (probably around my age). I looked at him a few times, but I could tell that he felt pity for me and therefore didn't want to mislead me by sharing a smile, until <b>Dr. Lewis</b> broke the news. It was a very uncomfortable setting -- Imagine sitting in class waiting for the teacher to orally give out your grade in front of the class, knowing you had done bad. The anxiety while awaiting that moment is similar to what we felt this day, but multiply that by 10, 20, 50 times. This day marks one of 3 climaxes in my journey.<br />
<br />
Initially, I was told I would have a small incision of around 5cm, as they would take out a small piece of the infected bone. I didn't think this was too bad. The fortunate news (and this is where God's grace is also very fulfilling) was that my bone cancer is in the Iliac bone/crest, the only expendable bone in the pelvis! Knowing this made me praise God. I was spared from the ring or other bones where the implications are more severe.<br />
<br />
However, it turns out my tumor spread in the bone marrow of the Iliac bone and the whole bone was infected! I am <b>3mm</b> away from the Ring. If the Ring is touched, chances are I will either limp or will not be able to run....Each individual is different, but overall, these cases are more relentless.<br />
<br />
They plan to cut me open from underneath my belly button, around my hip to my back. The incision will be about <b>25cm</b> (if not bigger), and they plan to take out all the Iliac bone instead of a small piece. <br />
Although dealing with an expendable bone, it was devastating news. The surgeon explained to us how during surgery, they will be taking out samples to test for alive vs. dead cells and keep shaving off as they go, depending on whether the tumor is dead or not. As of now, the whole bone needs to go. I quickly asked her about my ability to run and walk normally post operation. She said she couldn't guarantee anything and that the answer to that will be determined during surgery.<br />
<br />
Taking in this news and living with the possibility of not being able to run, or possibly limp for the rest of my life was as tough as knowing I had cancer. I'm a very athletic guy and running means the world to me.<br />
Towards the end of March, I went to a conference and we had a treasure hunt around midnight...we had to run over 5 miles in the middle of the night and it felt great (we won the hunt, by the way)...I already miss running, it's been 4-5 months!<br />
<br />
I cried several times knowing my abilities might no longer be the same....I was really knocked down and saddened. One of the lowest points in my life...What a day July 21st turned out to be.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">And here is a video that I took right after returning from the hospital...</div><br />
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</div>To my delight, one of my closest friends, a dear brother, sent me this passage from work -- he had it memorized by heart. I took strength from it, and God and the Holy Spirit immediately put the smile on my face and the joy in my heart.<br />
It's UNBELIEVABLE how while bad news is rushing to my side, He is able to stir things up from inside. While knocked down, and when I am supposed to be totally miserable and hopeless, His promises are nothing shy from total perfection and beauty.<br />
<br />
<b>2 Corinthians 12:7-10</b> says<br />
<i>"To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness”. Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships in persecution in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”</i><br />
<br />
This has to be one of the most beautiful passages. How can one not strive to love Paul and be/think like him? I am weak, very weak, but through Christ, I am surely strong. This strength has allowed me to accept what's to come. A very hard thing to say, but I gave it all to Him. Whatever He wants to do with me and my life, I'll take it, <i>for He knows the plans for me, plans to prosper me and not to harm me, plans to give me hope and a future</i> (<b>Jeremiah 29:11</b>) -- A hope beyond this worldly realm.<br />
<br />
This same friend/brother, along with his family visited me from Canada/Lebanon. It was the farthest anyone had traveled to visit me. They were the first to do it, too. We were so honored to have them over for 2-3 days. We were so thankful to enjoy amazing fellowship and unforgettable moments together. I love them like my own family. Thank you for being there...<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">Did I mention he's also a super star in FIFA & completely destroyed me? ;)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>During their stay, my family and I forgot our problems and just dwelled on fun, positive and good stuff. I wish everyday was that blessed!<br />
<br />
On the<b> 27th of July</b>, I was at <b>MD Anderson </b>very early (6:30am) for a pleasant<b> PET Scan </b>that awaited me. I have to admit that this time, fortunately, I was able to fall asleep for half the time (30min) due to me staying up late the night before.<br />
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The following day, my family and I had to see my doctor for the monthly post-Cycle meeting. This smiling individual, so confident and so sure of his medical abilities was that day disappointed. We could all notice that he was unhappy with my<b> PET Scan</b> results...During Cycles 1 and 2, the tumor shrunk roughly 60%, a miraculous number. However, during cycles 3 and 4, my tumor grew substantially from <b>2.5 x 3cm </b>to <b>3.6 x 3.7cm</b>. It was more tough news for us to bear in such short time. With all the rough and terrible <b>Chemo </b>I was taking, the tumor was still aggressive enough to grow. The doctor looked at us and told us that we are essentially in another phase now...Expanding on this, my survival rate is lower than the initial <b>65%</b>. But to be perfectly honest with you, these numbers mean nothing to me. Whether my survival rate is 90% or 10%, it's all the same in God's eyes. He's the one in control. I don't forget that, and therefore <b>statistics and facts are not compatible with God's miracles. </b><br />
<br />
My prognosis is around <b>45%</b> at this time. I don't feel a bit more scared than when it was at 65%.<br />
He then looked at me and told me: "Daniel, we're going to have to push harder now." I asked him what that meant, and he said that he's going to have to strengthen the <b>Chemo </b>dosage while extending its period to<b> 6 days</b>. This is basically the harshest Chemo out there. We thought 5 days was the limit, but my doctor is wanting to break the barrier of light, lol. He wants to take me to the edge of death and back to life, as some have told me. This news I could bear, I guess, because it's temporary suffering, much easier to accept than not being able to run for example...but it's no walk in the park....I know this, because I could barely do the 5 days. You're talking about <b>144 hours of continuous infusion</b>...It's ridiculous.<br />
<br />
He added that I would have to start <b>Radiation </b>simultaneously, <b>every weekday for 45 days</b>. For those of you who might not know, combining intensive <b>Chemotherapy </b>with <b>Radiation </b>is a killer. <br />
My mom was worried about me always going out for dinner with friends and staying '<b>too</b>' active -- the doctor fired back: <b>"Don't worry, with this new regimen, he's probably going to want to stay in bed and at home."</b><br />
<b>___________________________</b><br />
To make matters worse, I heard that one of my best friends and brothers in Christ was leaving Houston for good. He was with me all throughout my journey and was a super great supportive individual. He would make the most depressed people happy and knew how to touch people genuinely. He had this charisma and magnetism that few people possess. I will really miss him!<br />
He also plays the Ge-Orge Character....A personality you don't want to miss out on!.....<br />
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....Amongst a myriad of other genius things....<br />
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And finally, if some of you are still tracking with me, another close friend and sister in Christ decided to leave Houston as well...Much loved by all, she has a very serving heart. I wish we all loved to serve half as much as she does! We were honored to throw a Farewell Party / Bible study for both deserters ;)<br />
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<div>Other Pictures from this cycle:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrARW8goqri-bbUAv1dkCjvG6g8G9tjEVNzj30dX8xFXypmN-asbeZstvOVXCusip4tmWsQd3CmymGukCwgwS5vHvwtJ1iZ7I_rDuomQs5X63S4qmzOmDprHoX7CLrlJVk_QDmus0Ds30/s1600/IMG_0035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrARW8goqri-bbUAv1dkCjvG6g8G9tjEVNzj30dX8xFXypmN-asbeZstvOVXCusip4tmWsQd3CmymGukCwgwS5vHvwtJ1iZ7I_rDuomQs5X63S4qmzOmDprHoX7CLrlJVk_QDmus0Ds30/s320/IMG_0035.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The family below visited me and spent time with my family. They came from Lebanon for a few days. Our time together was blessed and memorable!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSZAmAJAmxzIoqc-3-1rmycw51bMM9iXQ83Hy0hFvAdOA3jG9Q51vZ8Q8dhUddT2_hDwpx0_nOc7brLL5Xdgs4tZ5xxDJIGK11gtvJIgjSwa9eu2DXW-2mF7f034LnhiOSNQZ8ljg-0Vs/s1600/DSC00509.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSZAmAJAmxzIoqc-3-1rmycw51bMM9iXQ83Hy0hFvAdOA3jG9Q51vZ8Q8dhUddT2_hDwpx0_nOc7brLL5Xdgs4tZ5xxDJIGK11gtvJIgjSwa9eu2DXW-2mF7f034LnhiOSNQZ8ljg-0Vs/s320/DSC00509.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Just another regular lunch...Too much fellowship going on in TX! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Fy0FAVX221UPyAlRFWZ9X2Qf0iYuEJ8N16wH2lGEXx2IevnkxkM-_Jp86PC0-Wiqv-P1j3DoOBvfZ6I8kWCvvw3bPG1GDqNUXhs6mfHhDec_toaN5Yvhh64K8dqgnQp9Ww3lkArXx4U/s1600/DSC06162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Fy0FAVX221UPyAlRFWZ9X2Qf0iYuEJ8N16wH2lGEXx2IevnkxkM-_Jp86PC0-Wiqv-P1j3DoOBvfZ6I8kWCvvw3bPG1GDqNUXhs6mfHhDec_toaN5Yvhh64K8dqgnQp9Ww3lkArXx4U/s320/DSC06162.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Friends we visited in The Woodlands!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN9zBRBo48n4Hlba4Qzpntnj9UYbq3zOkcc8qa-WlffPb_rgmh0xBCePgwsLt0J74GbdwLRlI9phUP29uu3pfA8xnmvUfXZv2SVuLGYalW5tXnePxbdCXio8iWkb7RtBo7PjVFzOpGaRc/s1600/DSC06159.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN9zBRBo48n4Hlba4Qzpntnj9UYbq3zOkcc8qa-WlffPb_rgmh0xBCePgwsLt0J74GbdwLRlI9phUP29uu3pfA8xnmvUfXZv2SVuLGYalW5tXnePxbdCXio8iWkb7RtBo7PjVFzOpGaRc/s320/DSC06159.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrARW8goqri-bbUAv1dkCjvG6g8G9tjEVNzj30dX8xFXypmN-asbeZstvOVXCusip4tmWsQd3CmymGukCwgwS5vHvwtJ1iZ7I_rDuomQs5X63S4qmzOmDprHoX7CLrlJVk_QDmus0Ds30/s1600/IMG_0035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJRJmffl0gV1TqSNvO9MkWDiB4YZEhyphenhyphenJtVKTEXCLuJWvIQUMiXDl-426Sdm_6gKYm7udnznw0tz3-7f_6FidfXQVorBFRtFBWJTIlHhgFdw98NOtlp5tp_WOp-3wNu7RkLRX0v82MIet4/s1600/Dan+and+Rahwan+Siblings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJRJmffl0gV1TqSNvO9MkWDiB4YZEhyphenhyphenJtVKTEXCLuJWvIQUMiXDl-426Sdm_6gKYm7udnznw0tz3-7f_6FidfXQVorBFRtFBWJTIlHhgFdw98NOtlp5tp_WOp-3wNu7RkLRX0v82MIet4/s320/Dan+and+Rahwan+Siblings.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My French-Lebanese sister friends from a lonnng time ago! One sister is missing! ;)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEp5A9qqZiY-jOzpXslOND8hwGKbArAgUkTcYI7J-k3-6vTVPvLK1bXA0Xz7iugNoRXuZo44Tq07njv7DzJYKaoQXvwMeKN1o-cph-1l6EIw72PQNr3Ik8ZsIP1AwBIgbrPzLf-hWP47M/s1600/IMG_0019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEp5A9qqZiY-jOzpXslOND8hwGKbArAgUkTcYI7J-k3-6vTVPvLK1bXA0Xz7iugNoRXuZo44Tq07njv7DzJYKaoQXvwMeKN1o-cph-1l6EIw72PQNr3Ik8ZsIP1AwBIgbrPzLf-hWP47M/s320/IMG_0019.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Dear friends from Rice University -- </div><div style="text-align: center;">A few Middle Eastern countries represented here ;)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg92PifnVIo0bLIxzVtYROiUcVJg_JgXiSg6dAFA8Xff6wTlCimRSOIkQWEV7gBDbXo1f4UhrZRqaZFW3gV9spa90AL4inA6orRE_j3wWN3h89j1NFRirq_OlIsbq3YCcf8XuYlHt2YbQ0/s1600/IMG_0020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg92PifnVIo0bLIxzVtYROiUcVJg_JgXiSg6dAFA8Xff6wTlCimRSOIkQWEV7gBDbXo1f4UhrZRqaZFW3gV9spa90AL4inA6orRE_j3wWN3h89j1NFRirq_OlIsbq3YCcf8XuYlHt2YbQ0/s320/IMG_0020.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Other Rice University friends who came to visit me </div><div style="text-align: center;">from Dallas, TX and Shreveport, LA</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCHbD0yxhXIE1D4Vr_EFPi3Fx057waIsyceFNVDPCmbO73NMYXR44utsjtDyvRW6vMExg8oHTRIoRt-d4_Ud-MhcX2jJbytqOUc4IJEzeqBbnmSQN7b5S2C-KfnBm83SNja5qa9TTGMJY/s1600/DSC00526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCHbD0yxhXIE1D4Vr_EFPi3Fx057waIsyceFNVDPCmbO73NMYXR44utsjtDyvRW6vMExg8oHTRIoRt-d4_Ud-MhcX2jJbytqOUc4IJEzeqBbnmSQN7b5S2C-KfnBm83SNja5qa9TTGMJY/s320/DSC00526.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjug5N5smByDCP4bjVo7Z7QxGYcn-rlJRoLmpPvfQPBA-AIRF9prwrVbrotxJ7p48WNO40U4IZQg3w4KvcCwDVM5K9QTwUoyQKsmZtR1hQhJIefroCbwHsrIovnpH9WQyN-t7ORufmegdA/s1600/DSC00525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjug5N5smByDCP4bjVo7Z7QxGYcn-rlJRoLmpPvfQPBA-AIRF9prwrVbrotxJ7p48WNO40U4IZQg3w4KvcCwDVM5K9QTwUoyQKsmZtR1hQhJIefroCbwHsrIovnpH9WQyN-t7ORufmegdA/s320/DSC00525.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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Again, leaving the best for the last! </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">My brother does not cease to amaze me with his frequent visits to Houston...God Bless him for always being there...Although living in DC, his presence in this journey is one of daily concern and commitment to the cause. I don't know how I can ever repay him for what he's done. Our love for each other and our bond has definitely grown. Thank you once again for all! I love you brother! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEmbCEaC9jdRYYauVQSJuPBlPQ8yJK5k2DE0-biaGdUufMUhDcGXaMqYzKCrxfgOc-fexGBMXX6VOoI2iQmt98B86GRENlwgTN6F-x3q0K4cCdmJiAI3zIz2qjellFCjtDB9hwoLoosls/s1600/DSC00506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEmbCEaC9jdRYYauVQSJuPBlPQ8yJK5k2DE0-biaGdUufMUhDcGXaMqYzKCrxfgOc-fexGBMXX6VOoI2iQmt98B86GRENlwgTN6F-x3q0K4cCdmJiAI3zIz2qjellFCjtDB9hwoLoosls/s320/DSC00506.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Not to discount the fact that the same applies to my sister. It's as if nothing else mattered to her at this time except me. I often don't know how to respond to such love. Truly blessed! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuSas3zxOAMmKOcZmypw8CJT99JCH__HOH6VYx3ZXVr2wksT79REGQ3nncvj1GmSnxZ09mCeHkDifs5xwl6qm_iJum4DWhFc3X-O4XXIMNq-_AQp9peHHoASfCwnfoWhw5_pUkYE0l4ec/s1600/Dan+Joanne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuSas3zxOAMmKOcZmypw8CJT99JCH__HOH6VYx3ZXVr2wksT79REGQ3nncvj1GmSnxZ09mCeHkDifs5xwl6qm_iJum4DWhFc3X-O4XXIMNq-_AQp9peHHoASfCwnfoWhw5_pUkYE0l4ec/s320/Dan+Joanne.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">As for my parents....What need I say? I guess it's no mistake my siblings are who they are...I have a <b>GOLDEN </b>family!</div></div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-51908947548175522822010-06-10T09:15:00.012-05:002010-08-21T08:49:01.054-05:00Chemo CYCLE 3 - June 10 - July 4, 2010<div style="display: inline !important;"><div style="display: inline !important;"><div style="display: inline !important;">I was super excited to have set up my 5-Day <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Chemo </span>treatments at times that matched the World Cup games. I am a vivid soccer player, as well as a die-hard World Cup watcher. I try my best to not miss any games, whether the teams playing are past Champion Cup holders, or simply teams playing in the World Cup for the first time.</div></div></div><br />
<div style="display: inline !important; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="display: inline !important;"><div style="display: inline !important;"><div style="display: inline !important;"><div style="display: inline !important;"><b></b><br />
<br />
<b><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I stepped into this cycle thinking it was going to be OK thanks to the distractions of the World Cup. Surely enough, the first 2 days met my expectations. I remember rushing the Nurse at the desk to let me into my treatment room faster to catch the opening game with Mexico and South Africa so that I can express my emotions without worrying about other patients sitting by me in the waiting room. I got up, spoke to the patients around me and asked them if I could change the channel to the TV in the waiting room. They smiled at me and quickly accepted. A few minutes into the game, I get called. Before getting admitted to the treatment room, the Clinical Nurse needs to check my blood pressure, my temperature and my pulse through a finger pinch. While getting all this done, I was still watching the game as the Clinical Nurse happened to be Mexican and was excited herself about the game. Those are moments I'll never forget... This was the beginning of Cycle 3 and the beginning of a World Cup that would do its best to distract my mind from the treachery of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Chemo</span>. </div><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">While many of you will not agree with me, I was pushing for an African team to do well this year. It was their Cup after all. Africa is a suffering continent, and its economy isn't in the best shape either (for the most part); so a World Cup victory can distract them from their current sufferings and pains -- a bit like myself. But football success for any of their teams can help revive the population, put smiles on their faces, and stimulate their economy even more. I enjoy seeing beautiful football and don't mind the same 6 powerhouses taking the cup every four 4 years, but deep down, my heart was rooting for any African team. I am rooting for <b>Ghana</b>, <b>Ivory Coast</b> or <b>Cameroon</b>, but mostly Ghana as I have some Ghanaian friends and really love their top player Asamoah GYAN. I hope this will be the beginning of better football on their continent.</span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></b></div></b><br />
On to less interesting things....<b> Cycle 3 crushed me.</b> After having completed the first 2 cycles and getting an extra 5 days off for a total of 26 days for Cycle 2, I had forgotten what it was like to go for the 5-Day run of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Chemo</span>. <br />
<div><br />
</div><div>I spoke to patients who told me the cycles were cumulative....this proved to be correct on all the fronts. Initially I thought they were referring to weight, blood counts, hemoglobin, blood transfusions, fatigue, sleep, resistance -- other things relating to one's health...but I found out that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Chemo </span>digs deeper and totally breaks the patient inside out. I will try to elaborate on this throughout this posting.</div><div><br />
</div><div>On <b>days 3 and 4</b>, I was totally broken. The only beautiful thing about this brokenness is my desire and need to think about God, faith and His love for us. <i>During those tough tough times, I get to <b>savor</b> His suffering for us, and how He willingly accepted to die on the cross for us.</i> Suffering for someone else isn't a process any of us go through, and most of us wouldn't do it even if it was for a family member. I started really appreciating what He had done for you and I -- for us, on the cross. </div><div><br />
</div><div>As I was reading through the book of <b>Luke</b>, God showed me in <b>Chapter 6</b> how those who enjoy the 'good life' may be more easily tempted to neglect the Godly life. This was the struggle I went through for years. I had no problems. I was blessed, and even though I acknowledged my blessings, they were a hindrance to my faith. With good health, a decent financial status, comfort, a roof to sleep under, fun and friends all-around, travel -- the good and easy life, I was unable to really get close to my God nor think about my faith and how strong/weak it actually is. In chapter 6, Jesus shows us that the poor, the weak, the unfortunate, are those who are the most spiritually wealthy....he calls them "BLESSED" as they cling to God, willingly and out of necessity. God loves the meek-hearted.</div><div><br />
</div><div>In verse 20- 26, it is written: </div><div><i>Blessed are you who are poor [...]</i></div><div><i>Blessed are you who hunger now [...]</i></div><div><i>Blessed are you who weep now [...]</i></div><div><i>Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, because great is your reward in heaven. </i></div><div><i>But woe to you who are rich [...]</i></div><div><i>Woe to you who laugh now [...]</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div>In my case, God was changing me inside out through my health. There is much to say about my relationship with Christ, as I've known God for many years, but I never really got as close to Him as now. I never got to really delight in His Grace that is never ending, or experience the 'pure joy' that so many talk about. I therefore thank Him for this opportunity and for this blessing to draw me closer to Him. I pray daily and remember to not 'waste my cancer.' If I won't be at my spiritual high now, when will it be? <br />
<br />
My prayers also focus on my spiritual stamina and endurance so that my fire remains strong even after all this is over. It's easy to fall in the trap of experiencing a spiritual high for a short period and then going back to the norm. But at this point in my life, my expectations are higher and my relationship with Christ can no longer be the same. It can only be stronger by the day. Endurance is very important and I am actually glad my situation isn't one that is short-term so that I will have time to draw closer to Him in order to be able to stand on my feet once healed. The devil has his ways, and will be prowling....with more aggression going forward, I am sure of this.<br />
<b>1 Peter 5:8-9</b><br />
<i>"Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world."</i><br />
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I have many ambitions that I hope to accomplish after this trial, and I plan to do them by putting my trust in Him and leaning on His shoulder <b>in everything I do</b>. Writing this here in public or verbally mentioning it is easier said than done. But by His grace, by faith and prayer, and by me staying accountable, I know it can be done.<br />
<b>Proverbs 3:5-6</b><br />
<i>"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. <b>In all your ways</b> acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight."</i><br />
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</b><br />
We're not only accountable about the things we do wrong or the daily sins that might come our way, but by the good and the right things we <b>fail </b>to do. We see this in the Gospels in the <b>Parable of the Ten Minas</b>. It opened my mind to thinking about how I can be an Ambassador of Christ by executing and not just sitting along the fence lines. God has a plethora of things he'd like for us to do, and the more we know, the more He expects -- missing this is wrong too. I guess Im just training my mind to think outside the norm and not just worry about the sins I'm trying to circumvent. The Scripture is so terribly deep and all-encompassing. It amazes me how every topic in the world is covered in the Bible, and the Lord's wisdom and parables apply to our everyday life, 2000 years later. How majestic!<br />
<br />
As for my physical fight, it isn't always about being able to eat or drink (although this is never ending), or waking up without a new symptom. I was starting to really get sick and tired of the wires, its smells, its tastes, its feelings...Toxic, poisonous fluids flowing through my blood made me super sensitive to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Chemo</span>. Nurses have to flush me several times a day with Salien and Heparin and I always have to move my head sideways, wear a mask or hold my breath in until they are done, to lessen the impacts caused from these smells....<br />
<br />
The smells of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Chemo </span>were so strong and so present in my body that I could taste it in my throat, and felt the need to shower numerous times a day in order to dissipate the horrendous odors flowing through the wires. The problem was that I was too sick and too tired to go through the headaches of a shower, specially since I have to cover my catheters and make sure no water gets near them. Showers had become difficult, and I try to imagine the light at the end of the tunnel -- the day I will remove my catheters and be able to freely shower, freely move my right arm and not worry about my body sweating. The catheters are somewhat paralyzing.<br />
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And when I managed to climb this mountain and shower, it only helped for a few minutes, as <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Chemo </span>was back, ready to overcome the sensational odors of my Fructis Shampoo and my Dove soap. The smells I was facing may not sound like a tough task to overcome, but let me sincerely tell you that it was breaking me down. And as wrong as this might sound, I can always 'imagine' the odor in my head and what it's like even when Im not hooked to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Chemo</span>. Call it Nasal Hallucinations.<br />
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The journey's discomforts shift as the cycles go, and the body senses can take so much. I always questioned my family if they were smelling the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Chemo</span>, but to my dismay they weren't. As to not endure more sleepless nights and more goosebumps moments from these yucky smells, I put a powerful small fan near my bed, aimed at my face. I was willing to get cold and fight my small fan all night, in order to face-off with a different type of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Chemo </span>fight. It was clear that I have become super sensitive to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Chemo</span>. I am now dreading the next 3 cycles and am only hoping in the Lord. Other cancer patients might have other fights and struggles, but I seem to be touching upon various, less-talked about aspects of this arduous treatment.<br />
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I therefore decided to buy a Gas mask! It took me a very long time to find a decent US one for an acceptable price. The market is flooded with Israeli Masks -- IDF being the more common ones. I couldn't believe it at first, but then I remembered how most Israeli 'hardware' is made in the USA, so it made sense to me ;)<br />
No pun intended, really. Here's the one I picked out:<br />
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I'll make sure to wear it with my Army T-Shirt ;)<br />
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</div><div>The mask is designed for continuous usage over a period of 6 days, also taking into consideration NBC conditions (Nuclear, Biological, Chemical), lol. I think Im ready for battle.<br />
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</div><div>My <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Chemo </span>backpack is another story. It comes with large straps inside to trap the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Chemo </span>bags tightly. The bags are also linked to batteries which pump the fluids at a rate that would empty the bags in 24 hours. There are usually 2 bags in my backpack. I thought about buying a new backpack, as the hospital's has been used over and over and is swimming with the same <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Chemo </span>smells. But instead of purchasing another one, I think the Gas Mask should do fine ;) </div><div><br />
</div><div><b>During the 5 days</b> that I am attached to the backpack, Im usually stressed out throughout. My catheters in my chest are attached to the wires which go straight to the bag. If the bag falls, is pushed away or recklessly unattended, the wires can pull on my catheters, which would pull on the tubes that are under my skin....A gruesome image, but Ive become obsessed with trying to not hurt myself. You'll find a chair with closed handles right next to my bed. In putting the chair beside me, I am assured the bag can't fall or hurt me during my sleep....When I wake up in the middle of the night to go to the restroom, I use my cell phone to direct my path as to not trip on the wires. This 'tripping' thought never leaves my mind! It's become more than just a reflex.</div><div><br />
</div><div>During the first cycle when I was getting into the car with my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Chemo </span>bag for the first time, my loving dad, who usually always likes to take care of bags and trunk space, offered to take the bag from me and put it in the trunk. I looked at him with a grin and told him "You're kidding, right?" He paused for a second (he was serious) until he realized what that would have done...He had his hand near the handle of my bag....lol. I don't think i'll ever forget this incident...</div><div><br />
<b>After my 5 Chemo days</b> were over, I decided to stop taking my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Methodone </span>pain-killer medicine. From what I hear, this medicine is so powerful that people are willing to pay $10/piece on the Black Market. I had plenty of this medicine. It has to be one of the strongest on the market. It saved me during the initial months of April and May as my pain was intolerable. However, it was also messing with my digestive system and causing me all sorts of pains, from stomach aches to bowel movement pains. Methodone was the reason I was taking a myriad of other medicines; so quitting <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Methodone </span>would give me lots of freedom -- at a cost. I still felt the tumor at times, and was feeling hurt and 'blue' all over my body. I would also wake up very early due to lower back pain. I was willing to save my digestive system in return for some pain. I was therefore awake at 6am, and was able to watch every World Cup game this cycle. It was splendid and worked out well in my favor. As for the future cycles, I just hope that the tumor shrinks considerably more and that my body pains decrease slowly but surely; I already noticed this pattern...<br />
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On <b>Day 13</b> of this cycle, I went for a blood draw. In the past cycles, by Day 13, my blood results would be considerably better than that of the draw of <b>Day 11</b>. <b>Day 10</b> is the lowest day in my cycles, and my blood counts are close to 0, meaning an Immune system that is non-existent.<br />
Unfortunately, this cycle, on <b>Day 13,</b> my hemoglobin dropped to 7.7, a level whereby the hospital recommends a Blood Transfusion, but leaves the decision up to the patient. If it dropped below 7.2, it enforces it upon the patient. I was getting very close to these levels. I was very disappointed and sad for a few hours because my body was getting weaker day by day, over the course of the cycles. An average person has a Hemoglobin of 14+. By the end of the first cycle, mine dropped to 9.5, and then picked up to 13 by the end of the cycle. On Cycle 2, my Hemoglobin dropped to 8.7 and then back up to 11. During this cycle, mine dropped to 7.7.<br />
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To make matters worse, I had planned a trip to North Carolina and to Washington, DC to visit my sick grandparents and my brother. I was supposed to be in the hospital on <b>Day 15</b> for more blood draws but wasn't there. I skipped my appointments. It reminded me of the old days when I used to willingly skip classes at times... :) I am sure to get yelled at when I return...but I was needing a break anyways. It had been a 3-month run of non-stop hospital visits and treatments. I anxiously awaited my next blood draw to see where my blood levels had reached.<br />
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I didn't tell my grandparents that I was visiting. It was a surprise, and even when my mom spoke to my grandmother, she played along to keep the surprise going. After my parents went in their house and spent 5 minutes with them, I entered the kitchen, tapped my grandmother on her shoulder and put my arm around her. She initially thought it was my father or maybe my mother, but when she saw me, it was a burst of mutual emotions. She was in disbelief and we sobbed to see each other once again.... She had been so worried about me and my illness, and was so upset at my mother for supposedly leaving me behind in TX. That moment of us hugging draws similarities in my mind of the first time I broke down and hugged my mom while telling her "I have a big tumor and that it might be cancer." Those are 2 unforgettable moments.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I love those 2 souls to death, as they are also the source of Christianity in our family. Their unceasing love for God and for each member of the family, as well as their genuineness and values are just beyond me. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2DEGvIm16Fxz0jrqEYGXwiLU2n7r0wLxi5EatwOGqMf05LTpBVZJufkFas3KnOs35I9dOPwr2TFA5OMVBCmJSXHqjWlClgmzPSopQK1Sv4YE-bHfOfAT62816GwxwIUrv2al7YmhQu88/s1600/Dan+Sitting+with+Grandparents.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2DEGvIm16Fxz0jrqEYGXwiLU2n7r0wLxi5EatwOGqMf05LTpBVZJufkFas3KnOs35I9dOPwr2TFA5OMVBCmJSXHqjWlClgmzPSopQK1Sv4YE-bHfOfAT62816GwxwIUrv2al7YmhQu88/s320/Dan+Sitting+with+Grandparents.JPG" /></a></div><br />
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While in North Carolina, my catheter dressing was coming off. Any cancer patient with catheters needs to get their dressing changed regularly, about twice a week. This prevents infections which could be a cause for a lot more trouble. I remember leaving the hospital on <b>Day 5</b> and seeing a woman in the elevator swimming with wires and fluids flowing through her IV in her arms. I asked her what was going on and if she was 'hanging in there'; she quickly told me that she caught an infection and that she had to undergo a lot of pain and trouble to address the issue. Infections still scare me and I hope to not catch one at all!<br />
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Anyhow, so by<b> </b>day three of my trip, I was hoping to get mine changed. It wasn't an emergency, but it started coming off and the safer thing to do would be to change it as I had another 4 days on the East Coast. I visited a nearby Oncology center in Charlotte, and came across a receptionist Nurse who could not help because I was not a patient at their center and they didn't want to get involved for liability purposes....this was very understandable. It was a Friday, and she told me that Doctors do not see patients on Fridays. Nurses therefore stay home and the clinic was pretty much empty. A few moments later, the only doctor in the clinic overhears our conversation and tells me to follow him. The receptionist was shocked but happy that the Doctor willingly helped me out of his own good heart. God was making the impossible seem possible, even when I was doubting! This was <b>Luke 18:27</b> coming to life: "<i>What is impossible with men is possible with God</i>." Anything is possible with God! The doctor and I chatted about my cancer type and my cancer journey and he immediately changed my dressing. I was revived, until my return to Houston. I have no doubt in my mind that God touched this Doctor's heart to help me out. This is His nature after all; He never leaves his children. We sometimes have a hard time understanding this, or understanding to what extent He'll be there for us. But He's there, at all times. Is our heart, mind, and passion for Him always there though?<br />
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I was getting a lot of confirmations this cycle from various people sending me Bible verses. A friend in Lebanon sent me a very powerful verse: <b>Romans 8:18: </b><i>"I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us."</i> She sent it during my toughest days as I was getting <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Chemo</span>. A few days later, my mom reads to me the <b>Romans 8:18-22</b> passage and reminds me why I may be suffering and that the Glory goes to Him in all circumstances. I was very steadfast about this concept, and accepted it from the day it all began. It's a major force in my body fighting to the end. I don't let go, and I don't fall for too long...as the Lord always picks me up. The sufferings put smiles on my face when I remembered Him. His verses and His words console me more than anyone can imagine. And the confirmations I get regularly strengthen my faith in Him. I am very often amazed at my ongoing positive spirit and overall joy despite this rough experience....but let me remind you that none of this is from me. I doubt I would be half as good/happy as I am today without the Lord's help. It can truly only be explained by His Love and His eye watching over me always. It's something supernatural working in me.This is the truth: I am not exaggerating any part of this story to fill lines in this blog...<br />
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As I was reading the Bible very early one morning while at my grandparent's house in Charlotte, I read about Martha and Mary welcoming Jesus to their house and how Martha was so overwhelmed with everything around her, that she wasn't attending to Jesus properly. Two hours later, my grandmother mentions this story to me, in reference to us getting so distracted by everything and not spending time in prayer with her. It's true, we were there for a bit over a day, but we never got the chance to read the Bible together (My grandma and I). Nonetheless, it's amazing how God very often sends people to confirm verses or to confirm thoughts from the Bible, showing He is very alive and very present in the midst of our lives. This isn't by any coincidence, friends!<br />
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On <b>Day 15</b> of this cycle, I got one of the worst symptoms yet. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Chemo </span>never ceases to surprise me. During the first cycle, I used to wake up and expect the worse as everyday had something new in store for me. This time, the skin on my head was severely suffering from an aggressive rash. I could no longer sleep properly on the pillow and anything that touched my head really hurt. It felt like my head was burning and itching. Very worrying, yet very painful and very discomforting. On <b>Days 18-19</b>, I had to make a fist of my hand and put it under my neck, carrying my head and not allowing it from touching the pillow. It's funny but true. It was very hard to fall asleep under these conditions, but I think I did...and Im sure that as soon as I fell alseep, my fist fell apart. I know you might wonder why I didn't use an airplane pillow....Well, I didn't have it handy on hand during these 2-3 days ;)<br />
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During the cycle I got to see some special people that I had not seen in a while. One of them is a family friend whom we love very very much. We had lunch with him during the Germany - Ghana game.<br />
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Another one is a dear friend from High School. He recently got married to Brooke. It was great to see you guys!!!<br />
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Im glad I get about 8 good days every cycle to visit with friends. Here are pictures from other events that took place during this cycle:<br />
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Friends from Rice! They've been so amazing while always checking on me....Thank you for all the love!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This dear friend I have known for over 15 years. We met in Lebanon when we were 11 and our paths crossed again in Houston, TX after all these years....Also, an incredible source of support during my journey. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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And what would I do without my sister?? My one and only! Love you!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dinner with some Lebanese friends.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhPrk7MGqIOoYi22KxVWq_1xILKctuRX_1UeR7eRqLi_mJ7ugxeaWk5S2GD2ufDFXGWdLQkUnMnmC69ay_VEG28A2ImonF8YTF3vI7BnyghGkRDd36XR7yyM2tIhaOBn7vDFYUIO0G8Rs/s1600/Group+Garcon.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhPrk7MGqIOoYi22KxVWq_1xILKctuRX_1UeR7eRqLi_mJ7ugxeaWk5S2GD2ufDFXGWdLQkUnMnmC69ay_VEG28A2ImonF8YTF3vI7BnyghGkRDd36XR7yyM2tIhaOBn7vDFYUIO0G8Rs/s320/Group+Garcon.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">For some reason, my girl friends like me now :)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9TTVyhn0BsOc6HZSMIPOUAzInlZYmAkHIqzcp7rpMgsg7PD5hAPXmbrkHE7TUElcyeT8SeS8j5uPwoeravyWtnWzGt5F9HuuIa-x9qtYcWxkcxcJkjrwYCW5U191yXPUPkFF7bUUiofw/s1600/Dan+Garson+Girls.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9TTVyhn0BsOc6HZSMIPOUAzInlZYmAkHIqzcp7rpMgsg7PD5hAPXmbrkHE7TUElcyeT8SeS8j5uPwoeravyWtnWzGt5F9HuuIa-x9qtYcWxkcxcJkjrwYCW5U191yXPUPkFF7bUUiofw/s320/Dan+Garson+Girls.JPG" style="cursor: move;" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: auto;">And finally, leaving the best for the end: My marvelous, loving and most supporting family that I love very very dearly!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<br />
</div></div></div></div></div></div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-4892609452499844742010-05-14T16:00:00.000-05:002010-06-21T21:44:33.860-05:00Chemo CYCLE 2 - May 14 - June 9, 2010<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><div>Cycle 2 has been easier than Cycle 1, overall. As my body got used to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemotherapy</span>, it didn't react as poorly as it did in Cycle 1. The symptoms were reduced, the nausea lessened, but my pain increased for a few days. It was also a more tiring Cycle. I was very tired the first 8 days and always wanted to nap or sleep. I was drowsy and weak, but thanks to my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo </span>experience, I was able to circumvent a few miserable moments. </div><div><br /></div><div>The pain got us worried though, as it was the same pain from before starting the first cycle of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo</span>. This implied that the tumor didn't respond to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo</span>, and that it was gaining ground. I felt the tumor breathing again, pulsating on my flank and just simply coming back to life. This pain would be most vibrant at night, emphasizing it is doing well and not bothered by the chemicals that are flowing through my body. I slept an average of 3 hours a night for 3 nights. It was miserable as my lower back pain was also present. It was during these nights that I was up at 4am answering emails ;)</div><div>We decided not to make any assumptions about this pain until we get results back from the Post-Cycle 2 <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">PETScan</span>, which will take place on June 2nd, 2010. Results should be out a few days later. We are praying very hard for the Lord to grace us with good results. He is able to do it easily, and I trust his healing hand is as present as the pain is. </div><div><br /></div><div>On <b>Day 12 </b>(May 25) of this cycle, a memorable, unforgettable, Oscar-worthy nosebleed came to pass at around 5pm. My nose bled for over 35 minutes...</div><div>I decided to rough it up the first 10 minutes and get over my problem alone. As I laid on my bed with my head leaned back, I couldn't imagine more blood dropping as I was pinching hard the napkins over my nose. However, this thing was a machine. The rate at which the blood was dripping combined with the blood I was swallowing eventually left me with a pale, fearful face. I called my sister for help (parents were out for an hour) and she brought me ice that I put on my nose. The ice didn't seem to help initially. I will not disclose or describe the nasty bloody stuff that came out of my nose as part of this blog's censoring. Joanne made some calls and was told that due to the low platelets in my blood, I was very vulnerable to various types of bleedings, thus the current one that we were in the midst of. After 20 minutes, and after literally freezing my nose, the blood stopped leaking. I was so relieved and just imagined this thing going on for an hour. I know it could have been possible just feeling its momentum inside of me. I woke up the next morning with a bruised nose! For the next 3 days, It felt like my nose was punched. </div><div><br /></div><div>To divert a bit from health-related issues, I am going to include a few short, yet fun stories that happened in the last couple of weeks. </div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">1)</span></b> My dad wrote the prosecutor a letter explaining to him that I was newly diagnosed and that due to my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo</span>, I wouldn't be able to go to court to defend my speeding ticket. Miraculously, 10 days later, the prosecutor calls my dad, expresses sympathy and regret for my situation and says that "Justice has been done in the case of Daniel Haddad". He said that while such letters never arrive at his desk (and he still doesn't know how it did), the state of Texas thinks Daniel received proper justice and that the speeding ticket will be dismissed. </div><div>A week later, I receive a letter with a dismissed speeding ticket! Can you believe this story? The prosecutor was really kind and understanding. He ended his phone call with "<i>Many prosecutors still have a heart!</i>" </div><div><br /></div><div>This man extended grace to me even though he doesn't know me. He took the time to call us and to fill out the paperwork to 'nullify' the ticket even though he didn't have to. This is a good example reminding us to have forgiving hearts at ALL times, as we have been forgiven too, by Christ on the cross. While forgiving an enemy or a person we dislike extremely is possibly the most difficult thing we can do, it is the biblical and right thing to do. </div><div><br />When I am faced with such a situation, I remember this verse and take strength from it:</div><div><b>Ephesians 4: 32</b><br />"<i>And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving each other, just as God also in Christ forgave you</i>"</div><div><br /></div><div>I owed one to my dad -- I would have never thought of writing such a letter. He saved me money, a defensive driving class and time! :) </div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">2)</span></b> on <b>Day 4</b> of my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo</span>, my dad was stopped for speeding. We were headed to the hospital.</div><div>I was fully dressed in scrubs, with wires flowing from my chest to the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo </span>backpack. I had my mask on, and looked very tired, yellow and sick. </div><div>As soon as the cop approached my father (I was on the same side of the car), the officer looks at me and asks me if we were headed to the hospital. He diverts his conversation to me. I quickly explain to him what's going on with respect to the blood test and the dressing change for my catheter that I needed to do at <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA</span>. We were late to the appointments that day. He then looks at my father and tells him that because we have an emergency, he is going to let us go. </div><div>This officer, also, extended grace to us and was kind enough to not want to add misery to our current situation.<br /><br /></div><div>I love to see men and women with forgiving and graceful hearts always helping and sympathizing those in need. Everyone had to have been in both situations. Do you recall when someone forgave you? And how did you use that freebie when you had the upper hand in a situation?<br />We all mess up, and so have I. Practice makes perfect. They say once a person does something 21 times, it becomes a habit. Let's make it a habit.</div><div><br /></div><div>While my illness does not give my dad the liberty to go 11 miles over the speed limit, I was happy he was let go because now, him and I were even. He saved me from a speeding ticket, and so did I ;) </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;"><b>3)</b></span> One of my dearest friends (let's call him <b>Ray</b>) lives and works on an American Base abroad. The dad of another friend went to that same base for a project, as a contractor. He went there not too long ago. Ironically, both of these friends met not knowing they both know me. When Ray met him and knew that he was a Christian believer, he asked him to pray for me. The conversation went something like this: </div><div><b>Ray:</b> I'd like you to pray for my dear friend who has been sick for a while now...</div><div><b>The father:</b> Sure....what's wrong with your friend? </div><div><b>Ray:</b> He was diagnosed with Cancer about 6 weeks ago and I'd really like for you to pray for him...</div><div><b>The father: </b>I would love to, but is this friend Daniel Haddad? </div><div><b>Ray:</b> Oh my goodness! Yes!!! You know him too??? </div><div><b>The father:</b> Yes, I do...and as a matter of fact, I have been praying for him for over a month now!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>This story is true and very touching. Not only did these 2 friends meet in the most random place ever, but what touched me most was my dear friend Ray, who was asking all believers and friends around him to pray for me. He is so loving, and was worried about me for weeks after he heard the news and was still making a big deal when it came to prayer. His faith in God is huge -- it lead him to believe that the more people prayed for me, the more God would be inclined to listen and answer the prayer. He has faith that God only can heal!</div><div>Additionally, Im sure he did this knowing that I wouldn't find out. He did it out of his own good heart, and because he knows that all believers are united, and pray to the same God -- who is our biggest physician. </div><div>The other thing to notice is that my friend Ray had just met this gentleman! It's not like they were friends from a long time ago...this is what makes this story all the more memorable to me. He was sharing his story to a complete stranger -- but to a stranger who is his brother in Christ, thus breaking the ice through that union and making him feel at peace to ask such a request. </div><div>I am in awe of this story and very thankful and blessed to have such wonderful people in my life. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Philippians 4:6-7</b></div><div>"<i>Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by <b>prayer </b>and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. <b>And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding</b>, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.</i>"</div><div><br /></div><div>This same <b>peace </b>invaded my heart the very first night when I found out about my illness. I knelt and prayed to God and asked him to forgive me from all my sins and that I would trust Him, follow Him and hope in Him throughout my journey. It's unfortunate that man is much more yielding and obedient when hard times come his way -- but it's better than being foolish and only relying on oneself or on worldly resources to heal him. God gave me peace that night that I will never forget, and this verse took a new meaning to me. </div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">4)</span></b> While meeting various patients at <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>and conversing with them, many mentioned the "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Red Devil" Chemo</span>. They asked me if I was taking it, and I wasn't sure as I hadn't heard that term before. </div><div>Laying in bed getting <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo </span>on my 2nd day of this cycle, I asked my nurse if I was getting "<b>Red Devil.</b>" She looked at me and smiled and told me "No, you are getting the <b>Blood of Christ</b>." I was amazed at such a neat and encouraging response. They call it "Red Devil" because it's RED and because it's the toughest and most brutal <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo </span>out there. I never made the analogy that this <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">RED Chemo</span> was being injected into my body to heal me, as did the Blood of Christ on the Cross and through His suffering. I LOVED her response and thought of His blood every time I looked at the Red fluids flowing through the wire. It made me smile. God was with me at all times, even physically ;) </div><div>As opposed to Cycle 1, I had "Blood of Christ" Chemo for over 72 hours straight....Tough, Uncomfortable and Unyielding, Im glad this cycle is over...</div><div><br /></div><div>Those were the 4 stories I gathered from this cycle... </div><div><br /></div><div>On <b>Days 17 through 21</b>, I felt an <b>extreme chest pain</b>. I couldn't breathe normally, and it prevented me from sleeping a full night's sleep on Day 20. We were told to go to the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;">ER</span>, but since I did a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">PETScan </span>on Day 20, we decided to wait for the results as that would show everything...I also did a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Chest X-Ray</span> on Day 19, and the results of that showed that my heart and lungs were clear. </div><div>I don't know what this pain is, but it feels like I just sprinted for a mile and then stopped. The problem is the pain is on my left chest, on the side of the heart. I feel my heart aching, and the whole left side affected. Since the pain has been around for more than a day or 2, my nurse wasn't sure it was another <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo </span>symptom. I will inform my doctor when I meet with him soon.</div><div>As for now, I am taking more faith in the Lord and hoping and knowing that He has things in control. </div><div><br /></div><div>I did my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">PETScan</span> on <b>Day 20</b> of this cycle - June 2, 2010 at 8am. It went much better than the first one. As I said before, when I know what to expect, things are easier...Aside from the new, novice nurse who gave me a painful <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">IV</span>, the process went well; the 2 hours went by smoothly. While getting injected with contrast and waiting for it to flow through my body, I wasn't able to sleep again -- I had a full hour to do so, but my mind was too busy running at 100mph. </div><div>We are anxiously awaiting the results of the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">PETScan </span>as things can swing either way for me. </div><div><br /></div><div>Whether the tumor responds to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo </span>or not is a totally different game for me. We would have to decrease/increase <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo </span>cycles, resort to surgery or radiation or to a different <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo</span> mix...There are many options available, but none would be sure or guaranteed if my tumor didn't respond to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo</span>. My doctor, <b>Dr. Patel</b>, who is world renown in the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Sarcoma </span>world, thinks that I may need 6 cycles to shrink my tumor. </div><div><br /></div><div>On <b>Day 19</b>, I told my brother that I wouldn't be surprised if God performed a miracle and shrunk it within 2 cycles or at the most 4 cycles. God is at work in my life and I feel His presence at every step of the way. He is able. My brother liked my faith! </div><div><br /></div><div>The results of the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">PETScan </span>will obviously dictate when Cycle 3 starts. We are waiting to hear from <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MD Anderson</span>. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>God is alive! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">PETScan results! </span></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>I met with my doctor on June 9th to get the results...Obviously Cycle 2 was way past due, but I got to enjoy an extra week in decent health. To our joy, we were told the tumor shrunk by <b>62%</b>!! It has now become the size of a Golf ball, roughly. While the results are astonishing, it was a huge miracle, no doubt. I give full credit to God. </div><div><br /></div><div>We now knew the tumor responded to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo, </span>which is a feat in itself as most Sarcomas don't respond to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo</span>. The shrinking was also beyond what anyone had imagined....the doctor himself thought it was unusual. Amazing, isnt it? It really is. It's simple to overlook this miracle and just move on...but, as for me, I've dwelled on its importance and on His saving grace. This is the power of the God I serve. Praise God.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Psalms 20: 7-8</b></div><div><i>"Some trust in chariots, and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God. They are brought to their knees and fall, but we rise up and stand firm."</i></div><div><br /></div><div>With these results, I expected my Jail time to be reduced by a few months....but it turns out my doctor and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>think that I still need to do the full cycles and stick to the plan, as the body has floating cancer cells, and we need to get rid of the "weeds" which might want to linger around the bone/soft tissue even if the tumor is taken out. This was pretty disappointing because I wasn't ready to go through so many cycles of heavy-duty <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo</span>.<br /></div><div>The plan is 6 cycles of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo</span>, followed by an operation and then another 2 or so cycles of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo</span>...Oh boy...</div><div><br /></div><div>Here are some pictures from this past cycle: </div><div><br /></div><div>I will never forget <b>Cycle 2, Day 1</b>. Colette and Grace surprised me and my parents. As we were getting off the elevator, we saw them there waiting for us! It was a beautiful surprise! They spent most of the day with me. We took photos, had some food and just spent quality time together. My day flew by. Listening to Colette and seeing how strong her faith is (through her experiences and accomplishments) really pushed me to the limit. Day 1 was gone! </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ob_7xOPbKs_AM0OpO0RvUotv9RMpgxrQujz17uEdBkk7lszp2S8HYe4g-EJKOi9CI1wzwirM_84ZHhKODRToHDWQQ7pfpawQIESiKlngw93bp6Mj6Xt80JcqkuCRb0X5foFSP_7hr9w/s1600/DSC02569.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ob_7xOPbKs_AM0OpO0RvUotv9RMpgxrQujz17uEdBkk7lszp2S8HYe4g-EJKOi9CI1wzwirM_84ZHhKODRToHDWQQ7pfpawQIESiKlngw93bp6Mj6Xt80JcqkuCRb0X5foFSP_7hr9w/s320/DSC02569.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485415018809800706" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA5XcDqOjbjcSbmbCkxOs4W8B2bT5WFucfraqx6qHPKMEAWP41HNNhLvaG0OapXbqQr1XSCwe-6gcmABhIksmmkWbxQNBJ8iTxmuamUFtn37e-P9RQf5SAluKDexsc9oWozOPLkUl7fk8/s1600/DSC02559.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA5XcDqOjbjcSbmbCkxOs4W8B2bT5WFucfraqx6qHPKMEAWP41HNNhLvaG0OapXbqQr1XSCwe-6gcmABhIksmmkWbxQNBJ8iTxmuamUFtn37e-P9RQf5SAluKDexsc9oWozOPLkUl7fk8/s320/DSC02559.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485415676314067250" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Other days in the hospital...</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQq6bYgnChJ0xnMuBLexzKYqwHaRykg5UYJioXDpjTjqT6-7uBPBDLT_Dzy_F4mFw8LWlbqwRHhAl7u7nCx_7mXKyAw1uPhjzOP_N6Tqqp9g9HzMkUXNrAG6A_r7QTVTH7BxpAQdkokmo/s1600/DSC05747.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQq6bYgnChJ0xnMuBLexzKYqwHaRykg5UYJioXDpjTjqT6-7uBPBDLT_Dzy_F4mFw8LWlbqwRHhAl7u7nCx_7mXKyAw1uPhjzOP_N6Tqqp9g9HzMkUXNrAG6A_r7QTVTH7BxpAQdkokmo/s320/DSC05747.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485417509205368610" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht-uEX5sPDdZAH2pj8xc6PrSy8xxU7OrGOUE3ao-PADdBoNzM45UU6Dryb-CziRKJa_KeaIn-fVyqYByD5iEYmjx6FMB-GuP-9TJCXThFNGdEF32xNQmeCsEqc9Senz3k8NS9ntDbXelc/s1600/DSC05748.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht-uEX5sPDdZAH2pj8xc6PrSy8xxU7OrGOUE3ao-PADdBoNzM45UU6Dryb-CziRKJa_KeaIn-fVyqYByD5iEYmjx6FMB-GuP-9TJCXThFNGdEF32xNQmeCsEqc9Senz3k8NS9ntDbXelc/s320/DSC05748.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485417677735775858" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlioQPP5IrdX_U-4Zf0xKP5pqlnGQfZO6XkXhyx8Xfhk7jq0BtspFkPX2H5xCnTCi1KJVZZXWsJjlG0dPyEIB7jTsgj9nUE8uNdyf6LseeeS4rWiIUaVRFOVdqgD4aySR9nwKoC0Wz4SA/s1600/DSC05763.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlioQPP5IrdX_U-4Zf0xKP5pqlnGQfZO6XkXhyx8Xfhk7jq0BtspFkPX2H5xCnTCi1KJVZZXWsJjlG0dPyEIB7jTsgj9nUE8uNdyf6LseeeS4rWiIUaVRFOVdqgD4aySR9nwKoC0Wz4SA/s320/DSC05763.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485417833495102130" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The soda of this cycle definitely goes to Ginger Ale and Crush!....</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-60226001987544391072010-04-21T11:00:00.001-05:002010-06-03T18:30:09.954-05:00Chemo CYCLE 1 - April 21 - May 13, 2010<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Right before my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemotherapy</span>, I already had a library of daily medications...It seemed daunting at first, but I had to maintain a chart to keep up with the different medications as each had different timings and different daily doses. I was going to build an Excel spreadsheet, but got too lazy and am doing it the old fashioned way :)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_HHzZN7ApTQIIvjf6je_qZ63f95Rj48J2OVt__V6ZqPZKYfyyBxqp5G7Vi49HeYKyKtjyLwnV7lGe_ir2nhtpJbxgIclo3plSWTtTtPPiz7X2ugyV5aq9RKZWiSuOh1cKrwyW614154/s1600/Dans_Medication.jpg"></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_HHzZN7ApTQIIvjf6je_qZ63f95Rj48J2OVt__V6ZqPZKYfyyBxqp5G7Vi49HeYKyKtjyLwnV7lGe_ir2nhtpJbxgIclo3plSWTtTtPPiz7X2ugyV5aq9RKZWiSuOh1cKrwyW614154/s1600/Dans_Medication.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_HHzZN7ApTQIIvjf6je_qZ63f95Rj48J2OVt__V6ZqPZKYfyyBxqp5G7Vi49HeYKyKtjyLwnV7lGe_ir2nhtpJbxgIclo3plSWTtTtPPiz7X2ugyV5aq9RKZWiSuOh1cKrwyW614154/s320/Dans_Medication.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469831324860526354" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>As mentioned before, <b>every cycle is 21 days</b> and I was asked to do 6 cycles before my surgery and about 4 after my surgery. So Im quite a few cycles away from being done...I won't think of the big picture, and I was told by various people to take it step by step and not to worry about future cycles or anything. I think they're right, cause counting down 250 days cannot be fun ;)</div><div><br /></div><div>At first I didn't know what all this meant, or what <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemotherapy </span>was really about. Everyone kept telling me "You're strong, you can do this...don't sweat it etc..." so the task at hand seemed easier than it was. </div><div><br /></div><div>Turns out most of these people (and Im sorry if you're one of them) were kind enough to be supportive and encouraging but had no idea what the toughest dose of Chemotherapy meant or what its implications were. Words are easy to throw, but going through it is a different story. </div><div><br /></div><div>While walking around and spending time in the hospital, I met various people. Obviously as I get to know these patients, the first question evolves around the type of cancer, the staging, the spread etc, but then another common question was the type of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemotherapy</span>. Most of them had one day of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">chemotherapy </span>every 21 days, others had 2 days for every cycle, but few of them had the highest dose, which is the toughest <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo </span>out there as it's 5 consecutive days for every cycle. </div><div><br /></div><div>I didn't know what to think initially, but it just happened...I plunged into it unknowingly and it really caught me off guard the first 2 days. I had to go to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>everyday for about 7-8 hours and get injected with <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo</span>, then I would go home with a backpack and was connected 24 hours for 5 days. </div><div><br /></div><div>This is a simple example...sleeping with the new love of my life: </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIw8VJTG0Fh85W0Gbk_ISMePOxF1hkh-HhvbkwleI8cl8l-X3I8qkX70R6m3qbbFYoEFSeIjtEF3Pw6cGvDRpxa4R0wKOGblVSxzqvJRyIXBRZPOxHM5Vl2LUruDqg6JDPiHqT21cpqA/s1600/DSC05685.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIw8VJTG0Fh85W0Gbk_ISMePOxF1hkh-HhvbkwleI8cl8l-X3I8qkX70R6m3qbbFYoEFSeIjtEF3Pw6cGvDRpxa4R0wKOGblVSxzqvJRyIXBRZPOxHM5Vl2LUruDqg6JDPiHqT21cpqA/s320/DSC05685.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470165298483507666" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I didn't really feel the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo </span>the first 2 days<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;"> </span>and I was relatively strong and told myself that if it didn't get any tougher, this whole thing was a joke, lol. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am going to include a progression of photos to show you what I am talking about...</div><div><br /></div><div>On <b>Day 1</b> of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo</span>, I was upset <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>delayed me by 3 hours. Instead of leaving the hospital at 9pm, I ended up leaving at midnight. Fadi and I had planned a Karaoke night that night and I was disappointed not to have made it. I was ready to rap some Jay-Z. Maybe next time, lol. In exchange, this is what my loving friends decided to do during my absence: </div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeZUrptVNHZmKHk8dCqD4FaWf5zpcg0WAOqBTOFn6CCRnq8r7DMmnTP6TasgV_HCEHvjwgSFTMTOEtAUDNitg7RiojmklLKzzEfiiZ5rZeAmk_d6Tce9uJQEDFViw9ZwcoHzsJEVmkeSw/s1600/Group_Karaoke.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeZUrptVNHZmKHk8dCqD4FaWf5zpcg0WAOqBTOFn6CCRnq8r7DMmnTP6TasgV_HCEHvjwgSFTMTOEtAUDNitg7RiojmklLKzzEfiiZ5rZeAmk_d6Tce9uJQEDFViw9ZwcoHzsJEVmkeSw/s400/Group_Karaoke.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470627119082977826" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>DAY 2:</b> I was still feeling OK and wasn't minding my situation yet...Things weren't gloomy, considering all things. However, I started getting fever. Fever had started a few days before, but continued throughout. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheR4R0AXuZLxV66NfsefXX-cEVjtDlMIvdiJerqSpK1zofycTniz1DqBBuwBhANLCxeoULoOKzhW1GTITqbgolFPiQm__GN2wfNP32EEyTUWlT8fQTTbmMRMGw9XBKVP34iZHC8VFaaJ8/s1600/DSC05684.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheR4R0AXuZLxV66NfsefXX-cEVjtDlMIvdiJerqSpK1zofycTniz1DqBBuwBhANLCxeoULoOKzhW1GTITqbgolFPiQm__GN2wfNP32EEyTUWlT8fQTTbmMRMGw9XBKVP34iZHC8VFaaJ8/s320/DSC05684.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470167194490264466" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Notice here how my right leg was sweating. I woke up in the middle of the night due to my fever. And the funny thing is my right leg only would be sweating...this pattern had been happening for quite a few days, and continued throughout <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemotherapy</span>. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzV7XNWPnEipBsUjkYTaFdFheuIsNDiYcFTcDWsToq2Yq67Aflc01zr-FpFQ-Jr7RrIDtFeohIvq_8tpX47fFuZhhSWZNwRCGo-XHo_Cef0T232vPqbFuzwMa-2PdDL_5DorgFm6SYJ_0/s1600/DSC05623.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzV7XNWPnEipBsUjkYTaFdFheuIsNDiYcFTcDWsToq2Yq67Aflc01zr-FpFQ-Jr7RrIDtFeohIvq_8tpX47fFuZhhSWZNwRCGo-XHo_Cef0T232vPqbFuzwMa-2PdDL_5DorgFm6SYJ_0/s320/DSC05623.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470181918118754786" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Day 3:</b> I started feeling it and was getting weaker...My nausea kicked in on this day. I had a very hard time eating a small California sushi roll. Same nightly fever. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZnsGn6chNnHfpsD0o8Ge4QFr3EcWVUFrPpyrVauKvKF_DiC1nOY0MksWKmanNL54gJs7PP3bFTh-RqWIUkg0RkMYK7GcheLH3kVy5w4u0cVCnFDU-ajb3FbYirwyc-wV1PZfL_1vlHHk/s1600/DSC05688.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZnsGn6chNnHfpsD0o8Ge4QFr3EcWVUFrPpyrVauKvKF_DiC1nOY0MksWKmanNL54gJs7PP3bFTh-RqWIUkg0RkMYK7GcheLH3kVy5w4u0cVCnFDU-ajb3FbYirwyc-wV1PZfL_1vlHHk/s320/DSC05688.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470172247699636354" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljiNAtyLlahyphenhyphenN7MJW2ivUXklq5rqk9U4f4AAJ0rY3Tue8trHStea2O1XSsbDeQqu9gT0ZdtQtGzGI1XVtueVhhhrrVD92O_lbhEceDBTN3hatORfKllr6TE4y02IRh3HvW2blbqje28k/s1600/DSC05689.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljiNAtyLlahyphenhyphenN7MJW2ivUXklq5rqk9U4f4AAJ0rY3Tue8trHStea2O1XSsbDeQqu9gT0ZdtQtGzGI1XVtueVhhhrrVD92O_lbhEceDBTN3hatORfKllr6TE4y02IRh3HvW2blbqje28k/s320/DSC05689.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470172374702290226" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Day 4:</b> Totally feeling nauseated and very sick. I was hating my situation as I was very tired, weak and down. Despite visitors, I was still knocked out most of the time. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkUi5u6gSyCnmJMfPzkQfnQHeG9ocAyHZJnf0d5XHJDfiOwSk_T4Je2BtEXa_Vc_S63gpxS1FuoSkin1pZcfu8O-W1NtgrVAy_BJ98EIuKpVEBC9tmR7pHAPaSXWYfQGi7O-4wTSjelQI/s1600/DSC05674.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkUi5u6gSyCnmJMfPzkQfnQHeG9ocAyHZJnf0d5XHJDfiOwSk_T4Je2BtEXa_Vc_S63gpxS1FuoSkin1pZcfu8O-W1NtgrVAy_BJ98EIuKpVEBC9tmR7pHAPaSXWYfQGi7O-4wTSjelQI/s320/DSC05674.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470173700215244914" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyWldEDWcedQk6GxJi2a2_r-BxRIS_s5Xkp95E-lzb1RMEjCmzytge6XplLXHsfUhiNPEzNs2YCeK41ECt1XCuuby8ZHVqcSFMo9CLt4dSImGzL2W69sA5qNsutS99h73x4z664Q2OWAk/s1600/DSC05677.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyWldEDWcedQk6GxJi2a2_r-BxRIS_s5Xkp95E-lzb1RMEjCmzytge6XplLXHsfUhiNPEzNs2YCeK41ECt1XCuuby8ZHVqcSFMo9CLt4dSImGzL2W69sA5qNsutS99h73x4z664Q2OWAk/s320/DSC05677.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470173923378929650" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFcuf0kkktZFX6oFDwHv9FdczpFkLAemlm_VYE9tS_xu-qiq77EaIzdsxS6wJ6n0RN08gHmF9vou-kBGz63X5EKUgpCuYzt2Ame5fZ8QyvALduQLzp7G_394wQnPzpCmijb6FN3-XRymY/s1600/Clipboard01.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFcuf0kkktZFX6oFDwHv9FdczpFkLAemlm_VYE9tS_xu-qiq77EaIzdsxS6wJ6n0RN08gHmF9vou-kBGz63X5EKUgpCuYzt2Ame5fZ8QyvALduQLzp7G_394wQnPzpCmijb6FN3-XRymY/s320/Clipboard01.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470174147383035474" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 285px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvBBzN7MxcmPmqT3ZtYU-dJwEn19trVGXlobTzTiYFchAEtPULtc85DTxeIb3v0ZDU8SR_IAPRam_g2rUCOwOsi9yWrFVG8TahWDM3RhhTnCGkx7zD-A_iYw2mzY0eDUWQCovkkQBSjFQ/s1600/IMG_4188.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvBBzN7MxcmPmqT3ZtYU-dJwEn19trVGXlobTzTiYFchAEtPULtc85DTxeIb3v0ZDU8SR_IAPRam_g2rUCOwOsi9yWrFVG8TahWDM3RhhTnCGkx7zD-A_iYw2mzY0eDUWQCovkkQBSjFQ/s320/IMG_4188.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470174995786946962" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Days 5 through 8</b> had to be the worst days I've ever faced. One day felt like a week, a week felt like a month. Time was ticking so slowly and I couldn't eat anything. Everytime I would eat something, I would vomit. I worked so hard on eating food throughout the day, and then at night, or a bit later on, I would vomit the food. It was horrible and depressing. My throat was hurting due to all the vomiting. I once vomited right after taking a pill -- a bit of water did it for me. I couldn't even look at water. It tasted nasty. I was so nauseated that nothing seemed good. Every time my mom would ask me about food, I had to literally think about it for minutes and try to figure out what my system could eat or drink. It was unbelievable.</div><div><br /></div><div>I used to dread the nights. My cancer was cyclical. It was smart enough to know when it was night-time. And when it was night-time, pain would increase, fever would kick in, and my right leg would start sweating. I would also get very tired. Incredible. I should have traveled to Europe or abroad to confuse the tumor and get it jet-lagged ;)</div><div><br /></div><div>I cannot describe what my body felt like during those 4 days. I was deeply poisoned, toxicated and just hating my life and the ongoing bad feelings that didn't go away. Every minute was a fight. I remember one afternoon (I think it was Day 6) battling by the minute as I could no longer take it...and then thoughts of the future 9 cycles would come to my mind and knock me down further. I did get thoughts of not wanting to continue any of this and just wanted to give up...It was too easy to give up and I can see why older people wouldn't want to go through this, it's basically a legal torture. </div><div><br /></div><div>Not that Ive climbed Mt. Everest or any other monster mountain, but just imagine it's past dusk and the cold weather/wind and the snow are slamming you in the face and you have to continue climbing and moving your limbs before you freeze. It's that type of fight -- No joke. </div><div>I had to literally pick myself up after every nap. I had to think hard for minutes and 'plan' getting off the couch. I spent hours on the same couch not doing anything....just breathing and living like a vegetable. I was told if I spent a long time napping, sleeping or not moving that I would get pneumonia, so getting my body to move was a big mental and physical battle. </div><div><br /></div><div>What got me going almost every time was the crucifixion of Christ and how much He suffered. When I remembered the scenes from the Passion of the Christ or the documentary I watched on April 1st, right before knowing I had <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Sarcoma</span>, I got a strength from within, a voice pushing me, and a surreal power that would just lift my body. I was totally reckless. God was literally picking me up.</div><div><br /></div><div>Having to drink liquids every 15 minutes was another torture. I couldn't keep up with drinking so often. Not drinking raises the risk of getting the Kidneys infected. A lot of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo </span>patients get Kidney infections...and that scared the heck out of me....so I had to fight to drink. Every sip was harder than the previous sip. Ginger Ale and Apple Juice were my only tolerable drinks. They were my friends during these tough days....but even they were tough to bare after a while...</div><div><br /></div><div>It's true that this 'game' is mostly a mental one, but the body is always wanting to trump the mind. You then get into a personal battle -- and you shape this battle based on who you really are, how much you can handle and how much you're ready to handle. Sort of like a pride thing. And for the pride that I've had in my past, the Lord broke me and humbled me. I easily acknowledged man's weakness and God's greatness. It was beautiful. I enjoyed noticing how Great and overwhelming God is, and that all mankind is at His mercy. All we are is just 'Dust in the Wind'...Not surprising that even Kansas, the band, got it right.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhccOzhHlEUUCqNITVHOkdJOv_eDg_r21xVTdZyUOluEGHNsWe_pg5YzmSTMug7DD_5TMzK9CtY8OJ3FlsKbPQLsllla7bVyqVgfVO8A4Tp-dtf-FkM2ERGfe8vQUA3PThNie4kucvZzkw/s1600/IMG_4207.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhccOzhHlEUUCqNITVHOkdJOv_eDg_r21xVTdZyUOluEGHNsWe_pg5YzmSTMug7DD_5TMzK9CtY8OJ3FlsKbPQLsllla7bVyqVgfVO8A4Tp-dtf-FkM2ERGfe8vQUA3PThNie4kucvZzkw/s320/IMG_4207.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470180126955419138" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmbk_Kj6bRbPShhjUp8o41GzvO5NPTy0X1K_41uuMo45f-XkkXt80bjFf8sOLhezYZOTY4OcakLjmwrMccm0ZfXfltDflybvazb83lhdaMBYCt5iIm_LQLpzYdcKmW1zqV6IzJGXUqTPo/s1600/IMG_4205.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmbk_Kj6bRbPShhjUp8o41GzvO5NPTy0X1K_41uuMo45f-XkkXt80bjFf8sOLhezYZOTY4OcakLjmwrMccm0ZfXfltDflybvazb83lhdaMBYCt5iIm_LQLpzYdcKmW1zqV6IzJGXUqTPo/s320/IMG_4205.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470180265964940706" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxmN8NQmMwZ9FV_nmxY5gaZ4Rvd06ldQPmE8o_PV9xN2Ywzsx6GkGWuCs-eemU73EV5awraD0fqPeWoCgC1DM957BIC8WYLcIaZdEwyP0352YLv0cx1b3zB-OLHQlzl7tkXmHng0-tuRs/s1600/IMG_4236.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxmN8NQmMwZ9FV_nmxY5gaZ4Rvd06ldQPmE8o_PV9xN2Ywzsx6GkGWuCs-eemU73EV5awraD0fqPeWoCgC1DM957BIC8WYLcIaZdEwyP0352YLv0cx1b3zB-OLHQlzl7tkXmHng0-tuRs/s320/IMG_4236.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470180490353299490" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSyiKRJ5xlGekh0KoaWQYQw1RCMGnF9YiGaj6S_vfGiS8jRHrEwy9Ecim3A3Lg83AOmVASh_JwcXZD9VdJVe9QKEsVr9p6MOW83hN-_5AFFP7HCCUh-9eY9FurtTaiC4xKA7AT2NIu1z0/s1600/IMG_4241.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSyiKRJ5xlGekh0KoaWQYQw1RCMGnF9YiGaj6S_vfGiS8jRHrEwy9Ecim3A3Lg83AOmVASh_JwcXZD9VdJVe9QKEsVr9p6MOW83hN-_5AFFP7HCCUh-9eY9FurtTaiC4xKA7AT2NIu1z0/s320/IMG_4241.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470180733017132914" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_AHdRCKibGphR799cbgFTssO9C4gmpS2hUdVrM5gUnHCS3B7WlS5VuYjaH4LfGzTg7cHN2rFUCt-j0xQ0fHLlI7WRkF1at_KhnJ2OfOgRIY8pK1PKaSLPnt1Aj7HRDaYgYWPPoIxWkZo/s1600/DSC00403.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_AHdRCKibGphR799cbgFTssO9C4gmpS2hUdVrM5gUnHCS3B7WlS5VuYjaH4LfGzTg7cHN2rFUCt-j0xQ0fHLlI7WRkF1at_KhnJ2OfOgRIY8pK1PKaSLPnt1Aj7HRDaYgYWPPoIxWkZo/s320/DSC00403.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470181152036654130" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br />But I was committed to do this. True commitment is serious and powerful. It's not just saying you'll do it, but rather doing it. It's not conditional because being committed means to be absolutely committed. And that's how it was with me. I was in the midst of this, but I had to keep on going. I had no choice and no turning back. </div><div>I had to work with what I had. It meant perseverance until the goal was reached. This was my mind frame throughout these days, until they were over. I had to adjust to reality and move forward. I had to work hard to achieve making it through the days without making it harder than it really is. </div><div><br /></div><div>Not fun times I tell you...But the good thing is that I never complained or asked why this happened to me. It didn't bother me. I will repeat this...I felt honored to carry this task forward to glorify God. I wouldn't trade this for anything. It's changing who I am and how I perceive life and this world. It's really changed me on many fronts, mostly on the spiritual one. Ive also become much more emotional.</div><div>When all is said and done, this would have been the best experience Ive ever had, and I thank God for teaching me and being patient with me. There are a lot of worse cases and scenarios out there...This isn't the worst thing in the world. And hearing God's voice on April 2nd and feeling His peace makes it all the more better for me. I really can't complain. God is good, all the time. I am very blessed. I will stay committed because I know that true commitment gets results like nothing else can.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was going to post a video I took on Day 5, but decided not to...I have 2 others which I'll include in this post...</div><div><br /></div><div>The following days I thought would get better, but they didn't. The problem is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo </span>destroyed all cells: good, bad, hair cells, everything. My immune system had gone to the ground. My white blood count was basically at 0 (0.4 to be exact), meaning I could catch any bacteria very easily. Fever and sickness are easy targets as well, so we were told to go to the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">Emergency Room</span> if any of those symptoms arose. We actually had a list we had to follow. There are over 10 symptoms that make one have to go to the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">ER</span>. I had high fever on Day 10, so I had to go to the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">ER</span>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Even if you're doing well and are feeling strong, once you check into the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">ER</span>, they make sure to take you down. Besides the blood shot and the 12 tubes of blood they take, the hospital and patients make things all the more depressing. I was very weak and my fever was very high. They kept giving me various pills and injecting me with anti-biotic fluids to drop my fever but it wouldn't drop. I had <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Neutropenic Fever</span>. If you're interested in understanding more about the importance of fever during low blood count, you can read this article: </div><div><a href="http://www.chemocare.com/managing/fever_neutropenic_fever_and_their.asp">http://www.chemocare.com/managing/fever_neutropenic_fever_and_their.asp</a></div><div><br /></div><div>I had to return to the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">ER </span>for 2 more days until they dismissed me and let me stay home on antibiotics...My fever had somewhat dropped by Day 12 and I didn't have to go to the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">ER</span> anymore....What a relief!</div><div>The following picture might remind you of Michael Jackson....During another cycle, I'll try to mimic MJ and wear the same clothes he was wearing. Haha ;) </div><div>By the way, one of the medications Im taking does not allow me to stay under the sun, thus the umbrella ;)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmHq7l2H_60sf9WNQyEt-eHZuSrmJ12VfjGXXpqB1INNTwoQtDMJSkFw1FgDXyZVOCN80eMJ_eBQTr0_aWHcFDDhFnBjrrCVXA4csLYrLrkIWTC8OSk1YiFyxaJimbbhFAKN_TO34Gcnc/s1600/IMG_4221.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmHq7l2H_60sf9WNQyEt-eHZuSrmJ12VfjGXXpqB1INNTwoQtDMJSkFw1FgDXyZVOCN80eMJ_eBQTr0_aWHcFDDhFnBjrrCVXA4csLYrLrkIWTC8OSk1YiFyxaJimbbhFAKN_TO34Gcnc/s320/IMG_4221.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470214184408407378" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The life of the mask had become my new life:</div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpwOpYCEiTNnAPiiDDb5uKsbF0RnrMSAsUcav50fTeydtQalTeCuH37rK_G2Wgrngv0c-Suw4LZ1Kwg6SkQiEZRxMD5aUnsOkDauRoBPH0oA-TuqLG6Ijp5uFAUMf-AcxM0hims2VB1-Y/s1600/IMG_4244.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpwOpYCEiTNnAPiiDDb5uKsbF0RnrMSAsUcav50fTeydtQalTeCuH37rK_G2Wgrngv0c-Suw4LZ1Kwg6SkQiEZRxMD5aUnsOkDauRoBPH0oA-TuqLG6Ijp5uFAUMf-AcxM0hims2VB1-Y/s320/IMG_4244.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470215126567284354" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>On <b>Day 10</b>, I got rashes in 5 different areas of my upper body: my arm, my hips, and on my sides. It was annoying and I had to use creams. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>On days 11 and 12</b>, I got a black eye and my backside was killing me. I was not able to sit on a chair anymore. We were told the pain and the symptoms would go away after 2 days...It was very painful. </div><div>On <b>Day 11</b>, I also lost my taste buds. Water tasted bitter, food tasted very different....It was quite upsetting. I remember craving a Taco late at night, so I went and bought one from Taco Bell. As soon as I got home I ate it. It had to be the worst tasting taco Ive ever had. It didn't taste like a Taco. It tasted bitter and just unpleasant to the mouth. I had a hard time eating just one crunchy taco. I usually eat 5 or 6 of those. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Days 13 and 14</b> were especially memorable as I got not-so-typical symptoms. On <b>Day 13</b> I had severe stomach ache and it was harsher than any stomach ache Ive had in my past...I thought the world was going to end. I was relieved when it went away towards late afternoon. We were getting ready to go to the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">ER</span> for this, but I got lucky as the pain subsided. </div><div><br /></div><div>On <b>Day 14</b>, I got a severe tooth ache. I was so upset because I had gotten over Nausea but now could not eat due to my tooth! It was so frustrating! </div><div>This tooth pain was by far the strongest pain I had experienced during my cancer journey so far. It literally killed me, and I called <b>Dr. Raad</b> who immediately put me in touch with a Dental Oncologist friend of his.</div><div>After meeting with the doctor and taking X-rays, I was told I had to re-do a Root Canal on a tooth, and the best time to do it is a few days before a new cycle of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemotherapy</span> so that I don't<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;"> </span>catch an infection. I re-did my Root Canal on Wednesday May 12, Day 21 of the cycle.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Day 15</b> was my first good day! I woke up and was surprised to be OK. I had no symptoms, was over my nausea and was ready to enjoy my day! My tooth ache had stopped with the antibiotic I was taking. I felt so blessed that day! I was still weak and couldn't do too much activity, but I was doing just fine. </div><div><br /></div><div>The following days until <b>Day 21</b> were all good. They are days purposely left for the cancer patients so that they could gain some energy, eat more and put on weight, get stronger and take a breather from <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Chemo</span>. It's really boiled down to a science. </div><div><br /></div><div>During Cycle 1, I went from 82Kg to 72. By Day 18, I was back up at 74Kg. I hit 76kg by the time I started Cycle 2 on Friday May 14. </div><div><br /></div><div>Here is a video taken on Day 19, or Sunday May 9th. By the way I was going to post 2 other videos, but I decided not to...so this is video 3, and that's why I mention the other 2 videos in this one:<br /></div><div><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='400' height='333' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzB2bihqwLI8lLqdTjpfHAjpByTA0_nlVf5NLqYN0Kv5UWK0dMMHbVr47uVme9ECegE8yfaz85LwlQAR66wOw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div><br /></div><div>My friend Alex came over on Day 20 to shave my head. It was a fun and memorable time. </div><div>Alex and his wife Elissa have been a huge blessing in my life. Besides their daily prayers and spiritual support, they have worldly advice too as they're both cancer survivors. Having them around has made a difference and I'm thankful for them. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEOCyUj8ffzd6NxWYVKjy_Bq7VbyI8w6pdco8yS0oVnV2pHvsx2zkUWOcpYdD_CpvcfU7P5HgUgzgDi4JKtraKBxjga_GUvvZcZ6nYdeVA_keUJKyMLY-xmfdnTBsoGOHugXEfGJlw9oA/s1600/DSC00425.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEOCyUj8ffzd6NxWYVKjy_Bq7VbyI8w6pdco8yS0oVnV2pHvsx2zkUWOcpYdD_CpvcfU7P5HgUgzgDi4JKtraKBxjga_GUvvZcZ6nYdeVA_keUJKyMLY-xmfdnTBsoGOHugXEfGJlw9oA/s320/DSC00425.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475212350836943074" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeTAwQAgtd1YzCIHAf2lB6WtkdesEMOLQAn-Od16YePZBOYGGHMISHDoEVLafzGyjphDI45aeVM13LGoHtLb61r-aasNoThc-QhF93IRAEO406FmXlMfUH9bZ5-ZUtzf4Kx0aztgcdQuE/s1600/DSC00428.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeTAwQAgtd1YzCIHAf2lB6WtkdesEMOLQAn-Od16YePZBOYGGHMISHDoEVLafzGyjphDI45aeVM13LGoHtLb61r-aasNoThc-QhF93IRAEO406FmXlMfUH9bZ5-ZUtzf4Kx0aztgcdQuE/s320/DSC00428.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475212542437383490" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixlV08eXpZAlJqpbxQ75dtULIc2C4tniKG6K9qBYoCiqcLHUkWYSx_0YtbQRTREdfFQuIEwy2SwgH75AOYqdsGsuxRQldKzi9tlQkoaTyVYQ27lpj6SVQzFE4GZWFO37eOIMbaTojuPFA/s1600/IMG_4308.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixlV08eXpZAlJqpbxQ75dtULIc2C4tniKG6K9qBYoCiqcLHUkWYSx_0YtbQRTREdfFQuIEwy2SwgH75AOYqdsGsuxRQldKzi9tlQkoaTyVYQ27lpj6SVQzFE4GZWFO37eOIMbaTojuPFA/s320/IMG_4308.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475212852401481762" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixlV08eXpZAlJqpbxQ75dtULIc2C4tniKG6K9qBYoCiqcLHUkWYSx_0YtbQRTREdfFQuIEwy2SwgH75AOYqdsGsuxRQldKzi9tlQkoaTyVYQ27lpj6SVQzFE4GZWFO37eOIMbaTojuPFA/s1600/IMG_4308.JPG"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeBTkBd-Nl8q4VbzchVTnCvqAbcof8632dOjWT__SmR5AiQx-qoF_PRq6kBwZjEeMngagmyPa9a-ZZkeTVGPtVz7o0FQ7zjBSaNhLhxQgGk_uNc0MFiQ_fas17Hy9JcyhK_oJH6azII0s/s1600/IMG_4334.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeBTkBd-Nl8q4VbzchVTnCvqAbcof8632dOjWT__SmR5AiQx-qoF_PRq6kBwZjEeMngagmyPa9a-ZZkeTVGPtVz7o0FQ7zjBSaNhLhxQgGk_uNc0MFiQ_fas17Hy9JcyhK_oJH6azII0s/s320/IMG_4334.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475213114713318050" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCUepE7WDOTW9yr12nSy3gMLzTWGim5xyaPK3Q44K5Ji0k9rJdr1SQbtV90LE7EKLGyqTs184jtuJIzBV7hq5iVa9Vg1w08dku_yguoOdzf6ezgzTRol_WRGNRooDTVAow51iAMk8699w/s1600/DSC00457.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCUepE7WDOTW9yr12nSy3gMLzTWGim5xyaPK3Q44K5Ji0k9rJdr1SQbtV90LE7EKLGyqTs184jtuJIzBV7hq5iVa9Vg1w08dku_yguoOdzf6ezgzTRol_WRGNRooDTVAow51iAMk8699w/s320/DSC00457.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475213441735484210" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>My mom, who was expecting the worse and dreading the day I lose my hair, didn't find my haircut too bad. I was thankful as my new haircut made me feel like I'm in the army. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-75998036081875623812010-04-21T11:00:00.000-05:002010-05-06T17:30:37.202-05:00Catheter Insertion and Chemo Day 1: April 21, 2010<div style="text-align: left;">This had to be the ugliest day for me....Not only is it Day #1 of Chemotherapy, but also the day I would have to do my mini-operation: the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Catheter </span>Insertion. I was dreading it. I woke up and was heavy...slothful and dragging my feet wherever I went. I usually make things bigger than they really are in my mind. I don't know why I like to overestimate my enemy and over-analyze the 'pain' involved in a procedure, but that's just me. There's some good and some bad to that. But it can also be counter-effective. A small surgery has now become a major operation in my head.</div><div><br /></div><div>We got to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>and I started my day with a blood shot. I couldn't believe how this has become the least of my worries. I used to freak out about blood shots, but have now become more friendly towards them. And maybe today's blood shot seemed easier to me knowing my next destination was a giant I wasn't ready to face. </div><div><br /></div><div>We arrived at the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">IV Injection Center</span>. This is where they would insert 2 tubes in my body through the vain going to my heart. The crazy part is that they made me watch a video which scared me even more. In the video they talk about the risks, the failures in the procedures etc....basically things to stress me more. I thought it was unwise of them to show the patients the video until after the mini-surgery. </div><div><br /></div><div>Here I was after the blood shot, in the waiting room, waiting for them to call my name:</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9kYBtD-RUbg3pwwjN9fMXKKHLm8SxCn1Wb4QoN6hK6LeF_9qe7u3LoZJranv9dC414GXw5sTUEvSfYMJoJGjXGj9dJUAEgvh0j9Wj8MpFV3np0xXerEZUUYUh0X9_A-QPlX4bY7olno/s1600/DSC05628.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9kYBtD-RUbg3pwwjN9fMXKKHLm8SxCn1Wb4QoN6hK6LeF_9qe7u3LoZJranv9dC414GXw5sTUEvSfYMJoJGjXGj9dJUAEgvh0j9Wj8MpFV3np0xXerEZUUYUh0X9_A-QPlX4bY7olno/s320/DSC05628.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468245694472872898" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>You could tell I was afraid. Every man has their own fears. So I called to Christ to calm me during this turbulent time.... </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS4uPE1qjszoppcMq8EEjK3ivD40SSgtw4gyRJSNRfcyfOpOzsLvX0yqC6aVMb5NomLF36CcN0twYxDmcKTNCQgJuusWvFnitj_9VsxVCVrChWy4O0w8AAB1Qfl8NX8Yqhl0D2ETkDNP4/s1600/DSC05632.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS4uPE1qjszoppcMq8EEjK3ivD40SSgtw4gyRJSNRfcyfOpOzsLvX0yqC6aVMb5NomLF36CcN0twYxDmcKTNCQgJuusWvFnitj_9VsxVCVrChWy4O0w8AAB1Qfl8NX8Yqhl0D2ETkDNP4/s320/DSC05632.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468247297908292994" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-14393" style="font-size: 0.65em; line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; ">4</sup> I sought the LORD, and he answered me;<br />he delivered me from all my fears.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-14395" style="font-size: 0.65em; line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; ">6</sup> This poor man called, and the LORD heard him;<br />he saved him out of all his troubles. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>PSALM 34</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk7K5bMwNF9VCxc9u_lOnovip4Y29SNaWnM4xgM7dYIjYwQhAC7FGw2vCBYdhJtoLx24-IMnCpmyiUPb0ql80qX6pJPZuPWucYWpBQiteCax1Xa6p3-8ugJDo5Omd-mSBDjnGpBx7IIoU/s1600/DSC05629.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk7K5bMwNF9VCxc9u_lOnovip4Y29SNaWnM4xgM7dYIjYwQhAC7FGw2vCBYdhJtoLx24-IMnCpmyiUPb0ql80qX6pJPZuPWucYWpBQiteCax1Xa6p3-8ugJDo5Omd-mSBDjnGpBx7IIoU/s320/DSC05629.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468246706941482402" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">As time was nearing, I wasn't sleeping...I was praying fervently and asking the Lord for a smooth procedure. I was asking Him to remove the fear in my heart and give me peace instead, as they perform the operation. I wasn't going to be sedated and I know that when I am awake I am more anxious and more fearful of 'people' working on me. As small this task was for God, yet as afraid as I was. This is how weak us men are. I am the first to think so...I have the willingness to jump off a plane, but in retrospect, I am weak, I am frail...and I need God in all things, small and big. We always think we can do things alone, and sometimes we can, but that road is so much tougher. I'd rather not walk it. It's at least good to realize that God is in control at ALL times, even though you're a 'I can do it' type person. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">They called my name, and once again, I looked at my parents and told them 'bye.' My mother couldn't let go of me this time, so she asked the nurse to accompany me inside. [She loves doing this and is good at it....hehe]. The nurse let her in, but told her she would have to step out when the procedure takes place. It was maybe part of God's plan to allow my mother inside so that I would have more comfort and peace. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">We were greeted by a very kind and special nurse. She made us feel comfortable and was answering all our questions. She would also be the nurse attending to the surgeon in my procedure. I was happy to know she would be in the room. As we were beginning to talk about catheters, <b>Dr. Raad</b> brightens my day and shows up in the room too! When the Lord provides, He gives <b>abundantly</b>. In the room were now a very kind nurse, my mother, <b>Dr. Raad</b> and myself. It was sublime!<br />I ask the nurse: "Do you know <b>Dr. Raad</b>?" She smiles and looks at me and says "I know of him, but I don't know him"...so I look at <b>Dr. Raad</b> and tell him "I am honored to wear your catheter" and he tells me immediately "I am honored that you wear it." </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i>[The reason this is a big deal is because </i><b><i>Dr. Raad</i></b><i> patented many of the catheters, and the catheter <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>wanted to put in my body was a </i><b><i>Dr. Raad</i></b><i> patented catheter.]</i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After some chatting, it is time for the procedure. When the surgeon walked in, my mother and <b>Dr. Raad</b> stepped out. But before he stepped out, we gathered for a quick prayer. It meant the world to me. I was in need. So much prayer and so much focus on Him were barely enough to calm my heart. It was to all begin. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The nurse had me lay on the bed and shaved my right chest. She gave me a 'pill' to chew on and swallow. She said it would make my body relaxed during the procedure. I thanked her and then told her I was a big guy and needed a second one! haha...So we waited 10 min and she gave me another one although she wasn't really supposed to. The odd thing is that I didn't feel anything. It was so nasty - I felt no different and wasn't necessarily 'relaxed' - maybe it was a mind game to make me less stressed? I didn't know what to think. She cleaned my chest area with alcohol and then the surgeon came in.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He told me the procedure wouldn't take a long time and that I had to stay still for the most part. He gave me a sheet to hold and told me to look to the left so that no bacteria would penetrate through my body (not even my cough or breath). I felt a strong pinch, and I told myself that it had to be the local anesthesia. It was good to know that the worst was over...Still looking to the left side (nothing there, simply a wall with a few things to meditate on) I then feel a very strong feeling of 'tubes' penetrating my body (and the reason I knew this was happening was because I could hear the tubes unweaving!) It was very painful.....I couldn't wait for him to finish. A few seconds later I ask him if he's done and he tells me "we are." I was happy. This procedure was more painful than the biopsy and worse than any injection or blood shot. It was tough. I was very glad this part was over.<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is what a 2-tube catheter looks like:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGvxn_J-RIsChhNE5R3P4_D7k-_IvIgCB87ZCZHRlpMiNReWaChKUhxfz4jzuFawJ5BJqBBf72KlDncIUzkXc_KAUsPqXEviMccdunsd4p1PzzLm83OR5ReRwg4DGQYkeeBJmZjZx-st4/s1600/DSC05635.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGvxn_J-RIsChhNE5R3P4_D7k-_IvIgCB87ZCZHRlpMiNReWaChKUhxfz4jzuFawJ5BJqBBf72KlDncIUzkXc_KAUsPqXEviMccdunsd4p1PzzLm83OR5ReRwg4DGQYkeeBJmZjZx-st4/s320/DSC05635.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468265084327115426" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What a packed day...We then had to wait a few hours and go for session #1 of Chemotherapy. Little did I know I would be hooked to a black backpack for 5 consecutive days, non-stop...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here I was while waiting to go inside for Chemo 1: </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0UAaoHxjRGhH_X-YZRjPJnL1bQI0BW9rLTn5T7sZBYXSN2Q84mp0ZMbSdY32VW5AtZehAUcto8ik6tK0wN2_JwxOaBTMee5PPfymKxjWYqOWYgHwt3o6zGcCwkULK6xrNLHyWgBu7pWQ/s1600/DSC05638.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0UAaoHxjRGhH_X-YZRjPJnL1bQI0BW9rLTn5T7sZBYXSN2Q84mp0ZMbSdY32VW5AtZehAUcto8ik6tK0wN2_JwxOaBTMee5PPfymKxjWYqOWYgHwt3o6zGcCwkULK6xrNLHyWgBu7pWQ/s320/DSC05638.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468265890736963250" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I write this blog fifteen days late, I realize how strong and healthy I looked on this first Chemo day. We were to sit there for about 6 hours as they inject me with Round 1 of Chemo. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6AIbkwXfGKrUah1TDtGSzVMxvGEcTNwvByanDTTF9_7cArXBKYhJky2kQq2SpY-IDP-a244STALKXUGRL7sdh2NL9lAxa6T2h4_wft6WaSB_Io3XNAp1NbowEScEqgXRq3HzkRe6AYw0/s1600/Dan+Standing+Chemo+1.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6AIbkwXfGKrUah1TDtGSzVMxvGEcTNwvByanDTTF9_7cArXBKYhJky2kQq2SpY-IDP-a244STALKXUGRL7sdh2NL9lAxa6T2h4_wft6WaSB_Io3XNAp1NbowEScEqgXRq3HzkRe6AYw0/s400/Dan+Standing+Chemo+1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468268941250762162" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4mRnkcp_1cnMWORAmXt61bEEIeAEXCqb2jLLEpTj4fQJwr4aJKPXfz7s5R9zjAKEa-F4WnUB0VXV-OXbL9s71M-bCz_dqNziqgcICDTJMug9O-ha5oO-Nf1TZjuQLHNl09PafSXkKObE/s320/DSC05645.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468267948565637362" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn14F6Akv5ectS6dGXPLMyrKCoa_FBV254xs-SuCDsOuFT0Orn6bN8r2hKREuhBZucMrpteJBPiOzNOUIu2ic59yw3HLrdFOWaOGT5p1ClqauCUqVYDhji-CNuk_9e_IhhIn3NkytbiKA/s1600/DSC05648.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn14F6Akv5ectS6dGXPLMyrKCoa_FBV254xs-SuCDsOuFT0Orn6bN8r2hKREuhBZucMrpteJBPiOzNOUIu2ic59yw3HLrdFOWaOGT5p1ClqauCUqVYDhji-CNuk_9e_IhhIn3NkytbiKA/s320/DSC05648.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468268120406057506" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixeTYBwTtekVZenD5QDnSpV-bI7TZbg3mNwelhO75xzhMj9C0eD5RwXdq-Oyr_-lAdUxz0YhMO9z4fajQEFjh8mGsGsIDGxAP1OVqtCyCLFyT88p6OTsDyj0JWRj2HmkS_vaS_6VLm0vs/s1600/DSC05649.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixeTYBwTtekVZenD5QDnSpV-bI7TZbg3mNwelhO75xzhMj9C0eD5RwXdq-Oyr_-lAdUxz0YhMO9z4fajQEFjh8mGsGsIDGxAP1OVqtCyCLFyT88p6OTsDyj0JWRj2HmkS_vaS_6VLm0vs/s320/DSC05649.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468268262322119170" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicaxoUWDCSf0gPtyzYriuJggOiJ_9qHatNK_BF46JoeyXvtLWJBv8ANdLVwAPtJrnCSwpEzL32xKreIBTR40rYU4v-dBfzF2NE4wlLFC98yEFaKv2BbbkK0Y2Qvsai2o5UEC5vy1AvDhs/s1600/DSC05650.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicaxoUWDCSf0gPtyzYriuJggOiJ_9qHatNK_BF46JoeyXvtLWJBv8ANdLVwAPtJrnCSwpEzL32xKreIBTR40rYU4v-dBfzF2NE4wlLFC98yEFaKv2BbbkK0Y2Qvsai2o5UEC5vy1AvDhs/s320/DSC05650.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468268389248814082" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ZHNJDW-b5k2B39nXLaEuxg3ONH2RFSIU8mVmPvnjh6R14qAn-AC36k2JGsAEfMVZZqSOcpLgnsFP-4oK1yRCJv9gqsY1m8lu5-K9hhQjTrv6BgIg13nZmVdBTpguT0_fjLFAXtovah0/s1600/Dan+Allonge+au+Lit.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ZHNJDW-b5k2B39nXLaEuxg3ONH2RFSIU8mVmPvnjh6R14qAn-AC36k2JGsAEfMVZZqSOcpLgnsFP-4oK1yRCJv9gqsY1m8lu5-K9hhQjTrv6BgIg13nZmVdBTpguT0_fjLFAXtovah0/s320/Dan+Allonge+au+Lit.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468268570276821922" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Towards the end, I was so tired and exhausted...Ready to go home. I'll never forget Kendrick, my new friend who took care of me on this first day. He is pictured above a few times. He has some good biceps for those Chemo bags ;) </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2CPBUAeLn7zBNLoHYehQOq8mD_UtlJNwzoJcB03sqe-Z_WxidftwmRtG2ezUq2lZrAyK5Go3Umo26W0dO8sl8n80NTFvJtDbAE17x57IUuBCipJBtHRlUqFRBLOyytnzieX1mYsxHlI0/s1600/6+hours+Later+Dan+Tired.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2CPBUAeLn7zBNLoHYehQOq8mD_UtlJNwzoJcB03sqe-Z_WxidftwmRtG2ezUq2lZrAyK5Go3Umo26W0dO8sl8n80NTFvJtDbAE17x57IUuBCipJBtHRlUqFRBLOyytnzieX1mYsxHlI0/s320/6+hours+Later+Dan+Tired.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468269511939855874" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I left and went home and took with me the black backpack pictured above. I could not go anywhere without it. It was my new Chemo buddy...And similarly to this Chemo bag, God had been walking with me and had been standing by me in every procedure and had been lifting me up during every tough time. I couldn't have been typing this without His grace and His never-ending love for me. Thank you Jesus. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-29919953434971144862010-04-19T15:00:00.000-05:002010-05-10T12:09:05.403-05:00Meet THE MAN! - April 19, 2010<div style="text-align: left;">This morning was the Haddad family's field trip to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>to visit with our <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">Sarcoma Doctor</span>. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>had looked over the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">biopsy </span>and studied my case. We were hungry for the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">doctor </span>to fill us in.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzy7WGUqoGM6nQMd6RTFFKS0XdCti7F5I5HYzzmTqFswz6l12IWhUNCiuAjAKwwBwEzeHAKBYpVgZF2Dc7nXzsRmI5OJab4o9IihfEslXApIi0CXBpJdfv5GA15N1F9xc-LKx_wnKmAUE/s1600/DSC05610.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzy7WGUqoGM6nQMd6RTFFKS0XdCti7F5I5HYzzmTqFswz6l12IWhUNCiuAjAKwwBwEzeHAKBYpVgZF2Dc7nXzsRmI5OJab4o9IihfEslXApIi0CXBpJdfv5GA15N1F9xc-LKx_wnKmAUE/s320/DSC05610.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467500004235260866" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The way the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Sarcoma </span>Dept works at <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>is that a committee of 20-25 <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">doctors/pathologists/radiologists</span> etc meet together in a conference room and discuss my files, records and scans and come to one verdict. The <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">doctor </span>then communicates the results to the patient. </div><div><br /></div><div>This is where we were. We hadn't heard detailed <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">PETScan </span>results, nor were we sure of the exact <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Sarcoma </span>I had. While we were not fully in the dark, many pieces to the puzzle were missing. Thus, we anxiously awaited the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">doctor's </span>arrival. From what we heard from various sources (including a few out-of-state friends), my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">doctor </span>turned out to be a world-renown <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">Sarcoma doctor</span>, #1 in the world. His name was <b>Dr. S. Patel</b>. I won't lie by saying this didn't provide some relief from within. </div><div><br /></div><div>He told us my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Sarcoma </span>was complicated and pretty rare and that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>would need to do another <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">biopsy </span>before they can determine the exact '<b>scholarly name</b>' for it. The <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">PETScan </span>results showed an aggressive tumor, and <b>Dr. Patel</b> was more in favor of starting <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Chemotherapy</span> immediately rather than trying to figure out what <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">cancer </span>name mine belonged to. The treatments would be identical regardless of what the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">biopsy </span>conveyed. Although it's a bit more bizarre staging a localized tumor, he thought my tumor was a stage 3 because it was an aggressive tumor and because it had started putting pressure on some organs but did not invade any of them and all seemed safe. He was adamant about getting started asap though. </div><div>Time was of the essence. My <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Chemotherapy </span>was to begin 2 days later....</div><div><br /></div><div>His treatment plan would include <b>6 cycles</b> of intense <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Chemotherapy</span>: 'the most intense <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Chemotherapy </span>known to man' as he quoted, whereas after every 2 cycles a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">PETScan </span>is done to show the progress. [<b><i>Every cycle is 21 days</i></b><i>, </i><b><i>and the first 5 days are devoted to </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;"><i>Chemotherapy<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">]</span>.</i></span></b></div><div>After the 6 cycles are complete, hopefully the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Chemotherapy </span>would have done its job of shrinking the tumor. At that point, they would do a surgery to take it out. After surgery, I would dive into another 2-4 cycles of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Chemotherapy</span>.....so it seemed like an <b>8-10 month process</b>. </div><div><br /></div><div>We left his office with mixed feelings as it is going to be a tough journey, but happy to embark on a mission that can destroy the invader of my pelvis!</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipRZq5ghcCU64PPmI2Bm0dpaZFGedv30aFiRk4-B6wbdN-4IY82KZqvNDv9suMqFQl2b0NgdLrw4dlCl9e5eeZRikw2ZJ27mL3q9xowmdu1n_Z9kB0A10xQ1xKCEiN5fVLApn7lWLQEuo/s1600/DSC05613.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipRZq5ghcCU64PPmI2Bm0dpaZFGedv30aFiRk4-B6wbdN-4IY82KZqvNDv9suMqFQl2b0NgdLrw4dlCl9e5eeZRikw2ZJ27mL3q9xowmdu1n_Z9kB0A10xQ1xKCEiN5fVLApn7lWLQEuo/s320/DSC05613.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467512481899521810" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I was then asked to take a few X-Rays before heading out for the day: </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1CFC4_XFk9A0Cx7NOHSzrO9Rzqskip3_tiYcraI6RFYZihfXIgOdLNGbSsflQRUUnBDPUYBcIfv_j9i43cIF8AO6ErePGC4NVTOm-GFupQbxZfgGywGALeDgS56rz7xUPnRunet1AjiM/s1600/DSC05615.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1CFC4_XFk9A0Cx7NOHSzrO9Rzqskip3_tiYcraI6RFYZihfXIgOdLNGbSsflQRUUnBDPUYBcIfv_j9i43cIF8AO6ErePGC4NVTOm-GFupQbxZfgGywGALeDgS56rz7xUPnRunet1AjiM/s320/DSC05615.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467514731780661442" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"><i>Sleeping time: 4 hours.</i></span></div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-19811313805644765002010-04-16T19:00:00.000-05:002010-04-28T18:35:39.974-05:00Good news! - April 16, 2010<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><div>We were told we had a small chance of getting the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">PETScan </span>results before Monday...And as the clock ticked 5pm on this Friday afternoon, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">Dr. Raad</span> shared with me the good news that my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); ">Cancer </span>was confirmed to be localized! It's one of those feelings that mark a milestone in this journey...and I was praising God for His grace...!</div><div>My family and I were so happy to hear this!! We were not ready to spend another weekend in darkness guessing the results.</div><div><br /></div><div>For my type of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Cancer</span>, prognosis states that metasticized and spread out tumors of this <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); ">Cancer </span>drops the survival rate below 10% (on average)...I don't think anyone would be ready for this... </div><div><br /></div><div><b>God is good, all the time!</b> You too, can smile and praise God! You're breathing today, and you're able to eat, drink, sleep and log on to the Internet. We are blessed, people. Sometimes it takes a lot for us to realize this, and I am the first to be in that camp. I didn't realize how blessed I was until this happened...But hopefully we can all 'wake up' and just take a minute and thank God for what He's done so far in our lives -- without discounting the unknown and the unseen either. </div><div><br /></div><div>Later on that night, more friends dropped by for a visit! It was also awesome to have my brother by my side this weekend. He did so much work behind the scenes and made sure I had a 'plan' before he headed back to Washington, DC. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9gsU2R7mPyS7269qEcyHivl8r3JH2W0_RAzAIzeFbRf6uBiM2Uc2xCzsyRWZo0jkVOXW_AY2zMfobV8HBSjhyphenhyphenjeYXW8FA0nGcozAcGf0k7zcspINRj49LKqFykgRYVQLL8wplIwfYpvo/s1600/Friends+on+04162010.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9gsU2R7mPyS7269qEcyHivl8r3JH2W0_RAzAIzeFbRf6uBiM2Uc2xCzsyRWZo0jkVOXW_AY2zMfobV8HBSjhyphenhyphenjeYXW8FA0nGcozAcGf0k7zcspINRj49LKqFykgRYVQLL8wplIwfYpvo/s320/Friends+on+04162010.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465295996783953218" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"><i>Sleeping time: 5 hours.</i></span></div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-1404870150409829242010-04-15T21:00:00.000-05:002010-04-28T18:33:28.758-05:00Weight Loss - La Madeleine - April 15, 2010<div style="text-align: left;">This was the day I realized how much weight I had lost...Im not usually a person to weigh myself on a regular basis, but it showed a lot when I wore a tight t-shirt...kind of depressing, but that's the name of the game. I will have to fight to gain it all back. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGXEBQDDDa-J9iZCmWNWSQJvRxfhyphenhyphenTRQ0PYMCFKBsLnrsjT-89mpWceDf_8yZnM8k9XqwWh0uHWZZ5Q9Ox_WR3bliHK5G1CLrm2OhRe6m2c8CafvyZBeo5hyphenhyphenhHYLIIPNvTmH4CxKzY7-M/s1600/DSC05597.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGXEBQDDDa-J9iZCmWNWSQJvRxfhyphenhyphenTRQ0PYMCFKBsLnrsjT-89mpWceDf_8yZnM8k9XqwWh0uHWZZ5Q9Ox_WR3bliHK5G1CLrm2OhRe6m2c8CafvyZBeo5hyphenhyphenhHYLIIPNvTmH4CxKzY7-M/s320/DSC05597.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465288513670925554" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Later on in the afternoon, I was to meet up with some friends at La Madeleine...When I looked at the Facebook Message, 7 people were included...Turns out many more people showed up. They made my day. I was very happy to see them all!</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCvKK3wA3IGv4AImexox7XzqPzORR1RR9Sr90SIt2YjKvvdaEiQauxIDjy-WWwa-XHRlzXCFSrsAp_iR7tbNdr4yUEQNJlf1fazzMyGP-09PGSEzhlDTqdH_dpUZusvVIXofquSyxklwk/s1600/DSC05599.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCvKK3wA3IGv4AImexox7XzqPzORR1RR9Sr90SIt2YjKvvdaEiQauxIDjy-WWwa-XHRlzXCFSrsAp_iR7tbNdr4yUEQNJlf1fazzMyGP-09PGSEzhlDTqdH_dpUZusvVIXofquSyxklwk/s320/DSC05599.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465288974876494274" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrEaWz7z26W5ZCur_cf4WnK5JrhgQfNZr3Gx9JfLuFWQmM8PthAR3DKTu2IRiMcmdQ0JYSY7Vz-G9trVfTQS8Z-ct3EvxfcYG-sUpzpel1jq2kuWaw3sVZ_byUqsozznaR-f9IxHhu-JE/s1600/Najjar_Dan_Madeleine_041510.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrEaWz7z26W5ZCur_cf4WnK5JrhgQfNZr3Gx9JfLuFWQmM8PthAR3DKTu2IRiMcmdQ0JYSY7Vz-G9trVfTQS8Z-ct3EvxfcYG-sUpzpel1jq2kuWaw3sVZ_byUqsozznaR-f9IxHhu-JE/s320/Najjar_Dan_Madeleine_041510.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465289100429947138" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>And since I did quite some activity today, my sleep would pay the price...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"><i>Sleeping time: 4 hours.</i></span></div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-37346810389553894502010-04-14T16:00:00.000-05:002010-04-28T15:22:45.203-05:00PETScan Day! - April 14, 2010<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Contrary to what you might think, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">PETScan Day </span>is not a fun day at the Zoo, nor is it a day to remember "all the pets out there." But my family and I were so excited about the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">PETScan</span>, nonetheless.</div><div><br /></div><div>It had its importance because it would confirm if my Cancer is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metastasis">metastisized</a>, or contained and localized in one area. From what<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> St. Luke's</span> had gathered, my tumor was localized. But it still needed to be confirmed via the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">PETScan</span>. </div><div>The other important factor about the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">PETScan </span>was that if my Insurance approved this step, all the later steps would be approved and I would be good to go for <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">MD Anderson</span>! </div><div><br /></div><div>My appointment was at 2pm. It was the first time my mom and I were both in wheelchairs due to our situation. For me, the more I walked, the more I ached at night; walking had become a big discomfort. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfQQuI33zu486bAO_Llqqf_u0TbhRL3I1joIdscpb_-1IkAZDFDKECnLqrs_uHTeM3HnZByoUFemip2b6wmkc4sNP3BsdNq6dnzfAMfee18I2Vqxxc3gBJJZul_gleK4qt2QI1m1OXDCs/s1600/Dan_Mom_Wheelchair_PETScan1-2.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfQQuI33zu486bAO_Llqqf_u0TbhRL3I1joIdscpb_-1IkAZDFDKECnLqrs_uHTeM3HnZByoUFemip2b6wmkc4sNP3BsdNq6dnzfAMfee18I2Vqxxc3gBJJZul_gleK4qt2QI1m1OXDCs/s320/Dan_Mom_Wheelchair_PETScan1-2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465278522535981474" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLG3dPUOfODeXRchhh6PIxFCMsUNlZl1gSTjA2ow6S8sLRcXoBDM-Mhikn8w7bRRIW2eDMuTnkcYiEnxeGcf_m_FpARNNYP_d1S0Pl_BbFANnESDeHvvXX6vwVRW9OQedd6c0LyLaL-Qg/s1600/Dan_Wheelchair_PETScan1-2.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLG3dPUOfODeXRchhh6PIxFCMsUNlZl1gSTjA2ow6S8sLRcXoBDM-Mhikn8w7bRRIW2eDMuTnkcYiEnxeGcf_m_FpARNNYP_d1S0Pl_BbFANnESDeHvvXX6vwVRW9OQedd6c0LyLaL-Qg/s320/Dan_Wheelchair_PETScan1-2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465278946663099506" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> We got there a few minutes early and got checked in. I was nervous about the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">PETScan </span>because I had to stay still for a total of an hour and a half. My constant pain, and pinched nerve added to the discomfort of making the process impossible.</div><div><br /></div><div>A younger lady called my name and looked out in the waiting room; I then raised my hand and said "Yes, Im here". </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsVEK6httmB0ZmGALnZC8c0_an_OVazs3B0lsCj2ce-mXkJtm1ip4nvrRwDjWHT3ZqGTiNVPaGeZWbcOYWOQwVI35iNdiKxe9d_nHjjVXeLrAHT0O0otfcjtHGR4lbjwIeVVZrEBTBrqg/s1600/Dan_WaitingRoom_PETScan1.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsVEK6httmB0ZmGALnZC8c0_an_OVazs3B0lsCj2ce-mXkJtm1ip4nvrRwDjWHT3ZqGTiNVPaGeZWbcOYWOQwVI35iNdiKxe9d_nHjjVXeLrAHT0O0otfcjtHGR4lbjwIeVVZrEBTBrqg/s320/Dan_WaitingRoom_PETScan1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465279253665452962" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>As soon as she saw me, she froze for a second and then I confirmed I was the patient as I was walking towards her. It's true, I didn't see other younger guys my age in the room, so it can be surprising to anyone. It's one of those moments that lasted about a minute although it was really only a second or two. On my way towards her, I look at my parents and sister, and my mom says a quick word of encouragement in Arabic. </div><div><br /></div><div>As she took me to the back, she asked me "Do you speak Arabic?" And I told her I did. I then asked her where she was from, and turns out she is Palestinian. So we immediately connected and I felt like I had a friend during this "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">PETScan</span>" mess.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I changed into hospital clothes (Scrubs - the only good thing about this...). And for once the young lady gave me sizes that fit me well! I was usually given tops with XL sizes making me look ridiculous. </div><div><br /></div><div>She took me to my private room - a small cubicle with a counter and one nature frame hanging in front of the one-person extendable chair. It was a cute spot. As soon as I sat down while waiting for the nurse to attend to me, I heard a bunch of guys snoring....and they were loud! I was so excited to find out that sleeping was allowed during the 1.5hr ordeal! lol. </div><div><br /></div><div>I knew I wouldn't be able to stay still even if I managed to fall asleep so I asked for water so that I can take a painkiller pill. Surely enough, I took one with quick-release effects... </div><div><br /></div><div>The Arab friend told me she'd come to my room and check on me every once in a while. Right before I was injected, she dropped by and we chatted for a few minutes. She was very gentle, kind and supportive of my worries.</div><div><br /></div><div>The worse part about procedures is being misinformed. I knew I had to do an <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">IV </span>in my arm to inject contrast liquids for the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">PETScan</span>. Turns out the nurse needs to also give me a little finger shot to measure the blood in my body! I was so upset!! lol. I hate shots, let alone 2 in 3 minutes.</div><div>Thankfully, God make it pass quickly and my hour and a half started ticking. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was very still, and I felt the morphine based painkiller's effect as my pain died down. I was contemplating the nature picture facing me and then tried to sleep many times, but was unable to. One shouldn't be thinking either so the contrast doesn't go to the brains versus the tumor. Any muscle movement makes the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">PETScan </span>less reliable as less of the tumor lights up during the procedure. That's why sleeping is a no-brainer! </div><div><br /></div><div>So I ended up sitting there without moving...The time passed by quicker than I had anticipated. My mind was thinking, so I was worried I failed the exam. </div><div><br /></div><div>After this part was over, they took me to the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">PETScan machine</span>. And this is basically a combination of an <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">MRI </span>and a<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"> CT Scan</span>. I wasn't supposed to move for 25 min. Although I found it very hard due to my pain and due to the way they had me lie on my back, I was so determined to do it, and didn't move!! I feel like this is too much information, but it was a big accomplishment for me! It was not really a mind game, but my mind conquered the pain in my body, as it was begging me to move! </div><div><br /></div><div>On my way out, I ran into the Arab young lady near the elevators. It felt like she was already a friend I had known for a while....maybe because she marks my first <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">PETScan</span>, and it meant something to me. </div><div><br /></div><div>That same night, I faced the highest fever yet. The whole family was helping by putting ice cold cloths on my forehead, and this would help as it was lowering the fever by about 0.5 degrees Fahrenheit every 30 minutes....Poor mother did this for over 2 hours. I ended up having close to a sleepless night.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9rKNoKbLG1A57MjFz7PYyDlQ2l2CwcL5bFF7svDL8jkq_pM_tV-5ljT6yYAF4D9m7WaF9Gat3tUv0KjmWQ02ZZpbVkg0eHZlSGwTRxUtdWbHhQJF4IO3tu7a05pcEtXRSGT7ZkLFLGxE/s1600/DSC05589.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9rKNoKbLG1A57MjFz7PYyDlQ2l2CwcL5bFF7svDL8jkq_pM_tV-5ljT6yYAF4D9m7WaF9Gat3tUv0KjmWQ02ZZpbVkg0eHZlSGwTRxUtdWbHhQJF4IO3tu7a05pcEtXRSGT7ZkLFLGxE/s320/DSC05589.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465285605046954050" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheMknu3RumEImlg9MgzqimvfD7kDA0avxDNYtVbqgc3Sd8wCaRMUw6GXaaBR1VWJqkPIFNpncTHd8Q_Ly46dTpVyEmEVyscgj_4VPTHQTnilDnHJqsx0-e5CzvFDH_Aht6AvltoMHxmuI/s1600/DSC05587.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheMknu3RumEImlg9MgzqimvfD7kDA0avxDNYtVbqgc3Sd8wCaRMUw6GXaaBR1VWJqkPIFNpncTHd8Q_Ly46dTpVyEmEVyscgj_4VPTHQTnilDnHJqsx0-e5CzvFDH_Aht6AvltoMHxmuI/s320/DSC05587.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465285549642539026" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Thumbs up for the new symptoms that keep coming ;)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBP0lP7iFPdRPorOmkxB8h9RZy7IL05ixH9Jd1fg_3jw31XRB-8i16dKptYk-4CutlQNZu1HQhbERUujfpnWWavGuwq46Q7i7cm6N2emJvGD3UZSb9yN7u72a7JYWHc-487Bh9RT4rChM/s1600/Dan_High_Fever_ThumbsUp.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBP0lP7iFPdRPorOmkxB8h9RZy7IL05ixH9Jd1fg_3jw31XRB-8i16dKptYk-4CutlQNZu1HQhbERUujfpnWWavGuwq46Q7i7cm6N2emJvGD3UZSb9yN7u72a7JYWHc-487Bh9RT4rChM/s320/Dan_High_Fever_ThumbsUp.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465286185249118754" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px;font-size:13;"><i>Sleeping time: 3 hours.</i></span></div><div><br /></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-7294857514039979662010-04-13T12:00:00.000-05:002010-04-23T16:18:11.374-05:00Insurance Galore!! - April 13, 2010A new morning comes our way...with new blessings from the Lord... <div><i>Psalm 34:8</i></div><div><i>Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him. </i></div><div><br /><br /><div>We got a call from <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>confirming that <b>ALL </b>requests have been approved by my Insurance! It was a moment we cherished and one we wouldn't forget either!! Soon thereafter, I got a call from a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">PETScan </span>Department Technician verifying that I would be able to make it the next day to my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">PETScan </span>appointment! </div><div><br /></div><div>I felt refreshed and renewed....<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA's </span>plan was going to carry me forward. </div><div><br /></div><div>Looking back a few days though, I remembered a few loyal, loving and giving friends who told me (while crying over the phone) and in person that should the Insurance NOT work, they were willing to give me all they had in their checking accounts, and they were ready to start raising funds for my treatment. My heart was so moved by this....3 separate friends told me the same thing... I knew my treatment wasn't a cheap one and that raising the money would probably not happen. </div><div>But honestly, the 3 dear friends I speak of were ready to give me $100,000 combined....!!<br />I didn't ask for the money, nor did I need it, but that amount was already available...I was amazed at their commitment. My mind flew that route for a second, and I can only imagine what people and friends would have done to get me treated at <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>should Insurance not have worked! I am surrounded by people who love me....THANK YOU ALL! </div><div><br /></div><div>Until my next appointment, I would patiently wait for treatment and continue to take painkillers as my pain didn't cease...</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"><i>Sleeping time: 5 hours.</i></span></div><div><br /></div></div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-17575327172710755052010-04-12T11:00:00.000-05:002010-04-23T14:57:36.125-05:00Monday Funday - April 12, 2010<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; font-family:verdana, geneva, sans-serif;font-size:14px;"><p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 5px; padding-right: 15px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 15px; line-height: 1.5em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); line-height: normal; font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;">If you're like me, you sometimes hear yourself saying "I would be happy if....or, I will be satisfied when...". In longing for some future good, we forget that everyday is a gift from God. If you're able to get out of bed and all your limbs and bones and senses are working, you are beyond blessed! Do not take it for granted....!!</span></p></span></div><div>_______________</div><div>This morning we woke up ready to implement this new agenda and arrive at Joe's cousin's clinic by 8:30am, as decided.</div><div>I remember not getting ready on time, and therefore had to eat my breakfast in the car. My brother Basil and my mom were sharing some powerful verses before the start of our week. We were looking to God and trying to focus on His greatness and on His goodness, and that despite all we had been through, He was still with us guiding our every step and making us feel at peace. I have been loving this peace. </div><div><br /></div><div>We met with my new <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Primary doctor</span> (Joe's cousin) and she made us feel at home; she was wanting to help us as best and as fast as she was able to. We got from her the Full Referral to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>and her <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">nurse </span>got right on it and faxed what she needed to fax as well made the necessary calls. We were cruising by 9:30am! </div><div><br /></div><div>Our 'workday' was short. We spent the rest of the day at home waiting to receive clearance from my Insurance. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;">MDA </span>was notified of my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">PCP </span>change and started submitting requests for approvals for my Insurance. My Insurance responded back that afternoon with <b>partial clearance </b>for some of the items requested. <b>It was a good start!</b> But the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">PETScan </span>wasn't approved yet. This was the big item we were waiting for. </div><div>5pm was here and there no was answer about the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">PETScan</span>. We kept our hopes up though and were fervently praying to the Lord to take care of this Insurance problem once and for all! </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "><i>Sleeping time: 6 hours.</i></span></div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-13274494715708881212010-04-10T20:30:00.000-05:002010-04-27T21:43:05.292-05:00PCP Changed & Meeting setup! - April 10, 2010<div style="text-align: left;">Joe spoke to his cousin and she gladly accepted to meet with us at 9am on Monday morning. She was now my new <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">PCP</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div>We spent the rest of the weekend enjoying my brother's visit with us, and we were not stressed nor worried about our Insurance plan not working. God put peace in our hearts. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was so amazing to see how God was working full-time on my case. Every step of the way had been bumpy, but God was holding our hand and His presence was very evident. He interceded for us every time and reminded us that "<b>Nothing is Impossible with Him</b>". </div><div><br /></div><div>Later on that afternoon, I texted Fadi, a dear friend, and told him I can meet with him and the others who were available. As I get to our meeting point, to my surprise, I see over 18 people waiting for me, ready to hug and support me. Turns out over 27 people showed up that night for our initial coffee-time followed by a Tex-Mex dinner. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNhmPzU1cKZUZlvKFcMMlDkKkPxgkyfg8aNz1_Zn02qV2QyV38eBYUFHDKMkRONSD8r2F7MZBOyhRDMQBb9ETs0uav-HBwtVJ-baasyuZ_k31ABBWfvWTPRceCywwv1W8OQNOnVAVey3Y/s1600/Group+TownCenter.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNhmPzU1cKZUZlvKFcMMlDkKkPxgkyfg8aNz1_Zn02qV2QyV38eBYUFHDKMkRONSD8r2F7MZBOyhRDMQBb9ETs0uav-HBwtVJ-baasyuZ_k31ABBWfvWTPRceCywwv1W8OQNOnVAVey3Y/s400/Group+TownCenter.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463397237025344514" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Dear friends and the rest of the crew! Love you guys! </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7xjeyi2_DeM0L8a-yNvbOPMx4EkB7e08VukmUDfQsBbgcafNph51AnGy-BKMgOGr4sL_1PPfCmdyuCeYdjll-yBef0LIGKNat7c00CMLV18oDdSiSu7GLcWVcfFsyqEGUMDT1nqgeX6s/s1600/Ted+And+Other+Crew.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7xjeyi2_DeM0L8a-yNvbOPMx4EkB7e08VukmUDfQsBbgcafNph51AnGy-BKMgOGr4sL_1PPfCmdyuCeYdjll-yBef0LIGKNat7c00CMLV18oDdSiSu7GLcWVcfFsyqEGUMDT1nqgeX6s/s320/Ted+And+Other+Crew.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463397825415509186" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Good times with Paul A., a dear friend and pharmacist who lives 2 min away! </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnz_Zy3Kjuusx9pHo4d0DGxK-tOLnRwLN1pOFN3XMzTNXMaXwzq_DPYAoJympC71j-4PGeyqrR-fDtkXFggk6uFhz9s1KeMBv4CA036FZIHPnMKjQf51lahegvvSlXy9leR68lwzwlRQA/s1600/Paul+Dan+Cafe+Adobe+Cp.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnz_Zy3Kjuusx9pHo4d0DGxK-tOLnRwLN1pOFN3XMzTNXMaXwzq_DPYAoJympC71j-4PGeyqrR-fDtkXFggk6uFhz9s1KeMBv4CA036FZIHPnMKjQf51lahegvvSlXy9leR68lwzwlRQA/s320/Paul+Dan+Cafe+Adobe+Cp.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463403183389064290" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 314px; height: 320px;" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>They just had to have me wear a nasty, bacteria-infested Sombrero....Lol, Dang, this hat was the heaviest one yet. My head had a hard time holding it for too long. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheuokVrmH8X-Il3i1TtHlij0z-R5ZS1Bz7KvxXo7VLZD7mS2u4PV22c5h41HujWfqoYbWwSlThd6rxFRJJTJkoeJZh9mUkfTzI4hEcQDCjh-lYR3Vn7P8G_AFQ_m8meBBwawAWXJsst_w/s1600/Dan+Sombrero+Cafe+Adobe.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheuokVrmH8X-Il3i1TtHlij0z-R5ZS1Bz7KvxXo7VLZD7mS2u4PV22c5h41HujWfqoYbWwSlThd6rxFRJJTJkoeJZh9mUkfTzI4hEcQDCjh-lYR3Vn7P8G_AFQ_m8meBBwawAWXJsst_w/s320/Dan+Sombrero+Cafe+Adobe.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463398482916406034" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I felt super-blessed and relieved to see so many people praying for me. God is good!</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px;font-size:13;" ><i>Sleeping time: 5 hours.</i></span></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-56670076993879113242010-04-09T14:00:00.000-05:002010-04-23T13:52:18.000-05:00Breaking the news at MDA! - April 9, 2010<div>Despite the sad news the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">Oncologists </span>shared with us at <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">St. Luke's </span>about a confirmed<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Cancer</span>, my family and I were somewhat comforted with my referral to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA, </span>as we knew I'd be getting top of the line treatment, specifically for <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Sarcomas</span>. </div><div><br /></div><div>When there seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel, God would reveal Himself to us and open doors we didn't know existed: He got us a meeting with the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">Head of the Oncology</span> at <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>at noon on this Friday!! It was a <b>miracle</b>, as we got to sit with him and his <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">nurse </span>for over 2 hours!</div><div><br /></div><div>If you don't believe this is a miracle, please try booking an appointment with the Chairman of the hospital you're currently insured with, and see what happens! ;) </div><div><br /></div><div>They gave us the good and the bad news. All our questions were answered and things were starting to clear up for us. We were pleased with the progress. They confirmed it was a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Sarcoma</span>, but were still unsure about the exact name of this <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Sarcoma Cancer</span>....however, the doctor mentioned that my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Cancer </span>was extremely rare. </div><div>Out of the yearly 4.5 million new <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Cancer </span>patients, only 300 carry my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Cancer</span>. For the math nerds out there: <b>300/4,500,000</b> = less than a fraction of a fraction of a percent. </div><div>When he said this, my mind immediately thought of God performing a <b>MIRACULOUS HEALING for a RARE DISEASE</b>. He is faithful to do so, and I will Trust Him non-stop!</div><div><br /></div><div>The bad thing about a rare <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Cancer </span>is that research is scarce and doctor experience is limited. Other more common <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Cancers </span>offer a myriad of resources and research, as more time and money is spent on mastering these diseases. </div><div><br /></div><div>Regardless, we knew God is always with us, every step of the way. The rarity of my disease did not sway us from being in the negative camp. </div><div>I was very supportive of my family and made it a point to not show weakness, worry, fear or unhappiness as I did not want to affect them either. My mom is very weak and emotional, and I do not wish to add to her misery. The rest of the family is very emotional too, and so am I. Genes do work after all ;)</div><div>But the more they see positivity from me and within me, the more they'd be obliged to be positive around me, because Im sure they would not appreciate or accept to bring me down with them. But so far my family has been superb, and as supportive as can be. They are truly the perfect family to attend to a sick person. </div><div><br /></div><div>After picking up some prescriptions from <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA</span>, we immediately headed to a restaurant for a late lunch, early dinner. We were starving because we skipped lunch due to our long meetings. </div><div><br /></div><div>Halfway through our meal, I get a call from <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>and the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">nurse </span>tells me my insurance <b>DECLINED </b>that I be treated at <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA. MDA</span> therefore halted their work on me. We left their office with the promise that they would get a "treatment plan" started, and that they would schedule a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">PETScan</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">(Positron Emission Tomography) </span>as soon as possible. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>[The </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;"><i>PETScan </i></span><i>basically determines the Spread of the Cancer in the rest of the body, as well as the Staging and the severity of the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Cancer</span>.]</i><br /><br /></div><div>My dad had been fighting for a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">PETScan </span>since the beginning of the week. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">St. Luke's</span> confirmed they do not have a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">PETScan Machine</span>; we thought Insurance would easily approve my request of doing it at <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA</span>, but they circled back with us telling us that they subcontracted a company and that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">St. Luke's</span> now has a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">PETScan Machine</span>. Unbelievable. So sly.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was Friday afternoon, around 4:15pm. We were crushed in a few seconds, and our short-lived happiness was now facing another giant: Corporate America Insurance Companies and the dirty games these companies play.</div><div><br /></div><div>My Insurance company told <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>that whatever was not offered at my Primary Clinic, I could do at <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA</span>. But <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>does not accept patients who bring files, documents and test results from other hospitals as they need their patients to do the full work from A to Z at their hospital. That makes total sense, and the Insurance Companies know this, but that's what they're good at: creating unsurmountable mountains to climb. We needed to find a loophole. </div><div><br /></div><div>We left the food in our plates and ended our dinner early. We rushed to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">Kelsey-Seybold</span> (My Primary Care Physician + Clinic) before they closed. It was 4:40pm, 20 minutes before the start of another miserable weekend without answers. </div><div>My dad and I managed to get into the back-office of the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">Oncology Department</span> and I run into my main <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">Oncologist </span>who made the initial referral request to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA</span>. After chatting with her for over half an hour, we basically concluded she would be of no help in this Insurance claim even if she requested a FULL REFERRAL to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA</span>. She was not that helpful. But I will admit that she wasn't as dry as she had been in my hospital room when she announced the heartbreaking news.</div><div>She did say "Sorry" a few times and understood our miserable situation, on a Friday afternoon.</div><div><br /></div><div>She took me aside (without my father) and told me these words: "Daniel, you NEED to go to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>asap. You cannot stay at our clinic as we cannot treat you and we don't know how to treat you. You will not make it here. So whatever it takes for you to get to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA, </span>you and your family have to do, even if it means taking a loan." At that, I knew the severity of my case and knew that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>was my only hope. </div><div><br /></div><div>I joined my family shortly thereafter; they were sitting in the waiting room and were very disappointed and upset. I could sense fury and failure in their eyes. We carried each other to the car. We were feeling heavy as time was ticking and my pain was increasing by the day.</div><div><br /></div><div>Friday afternoon proved to be a very busy one. My brother, my father and I were making all sorts of calls until we sat for dinner around 8:30pm. The reassuring part was that all 3 of us came up with the same solution to my Insurance problem: changing my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Primary Care Provider</span> and getting a full referral to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA</span>. Obviously, I would choose a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">PCP </span>that was much smaller-scale and one that didn't practice <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">Oncology</span>. The <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">PCP </span>would also have to be in my Network. This plan seemed very silly, but we got various confirmations about its authenticity.</div><div><br /></div><div>I started making phone calls to Physicians we knew and checking <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">CIGNA's </span>website to see if they were on the list....I couldn't find anyone that met the criteria. The reason we needed to use a connection was because we would need to set up a meeting over the weekend or very early on Monday morning to get things rolling again at <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>without delay. </div><div><br /></div><div>A few minutes later, a dear friend named Joe and his wife came by for a visit, and we shared with them our problem. It wasn't long before Joe's cousin came to our minds, and she happened to meet all the criteria. Joe promised me he would call her early morning and let her know of my situation. In the meanwhile, around midnight, I switched my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">PCP </span>to Joe's cousin's family-run clinic. </div><div><br /></div><div>By the time I slept, I was neither a patient at <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">St. Luke's</span>, nor at <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>and I had a rare, aggressive and complicated <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Cancer </span>that needed to be treated as soon as possible. </div><div><br /></div><div>Today was an extremely long day, and we went from valleys to peaks and from peaks to valleys within seconds, but we trusted the Lord and remembered His providence over this earth. He was good, at all times. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"><i>Sleeping time: 4 hours.</i></span></div><div><br /></div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-72936636336299766132010-04-08T12:00:00.000-05:002010-04-21T01:01:29.646-05:00St. Luke's Diagnosis! - April 8, 2010Diagnosis Day is comparable to Sentence Day. I've been waiting since last Friday, and the more my pain increased and my sleep patterns were skewed, the more anxious I was to know what the tumor was all about. It's hard to know the latter is inside of me and that its toxic cells are working, so days seemed like weeks when my desire is to remove it and be done with it! <div><br /></div><div>My brother and I were up very early. My <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">nurse </span>usually comes in the room at 6am and is required to draw blood. I found it funny that all I had to say was "No thank you, Im not giving blood this morning" because the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">nurses </span>on the floor heard about what had happened to me the first night, when they tried to put the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">IV </span>in my hand. I had some sort of power when it came to this. I declined blood-drawing 3 mornings in a row :)</div><div><br /></div><div>I could be wrong about this, but it appears as though the hospitals in the US require 6-24 tubes of blood in one sitting so that the blood could be sold to other patients needing that type of blood through transfusion for example; obviously the blood would have to be disease-free and of good quality. They once took 24 tubes from my mom in one sitting....ridiculous. When compared to Lebanon, one tube is usually enough to study ALL the aspects of the blood. Here in the US, they need one tube for <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">HIV</span>, one for <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Hemoglobine</span>, one for <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Hepatitis </span>etc.....Why can't they check the same blood for different things? Good blood is surely recycled and used.</div><div>Anyways, this is really hors-sujet (out of the scope of this blog). lol</div><div><br /></div><div> <div>More <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;">St. Luke's</span> employees kept storming through our room...Trust me, this is so annoying. But as the time neared 10am, we were more and more impatient to talk to the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">Oncologist </span>team. My parents and sister arrived around 9am, and that gave us some time to ponder as a family before the verdict was announced. </div><div><br /></div><div>The <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">Oncologist </span>team came by at 11:00am. They were on time the past few days, and therefore coming an hour late on Diagnosis Day was not a good sign, but we didn't want to over-analyze every little detail, so we let it go. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was in my bed, my parents were on the couch, and my brother and sister were on individual chairs. I glanced at my family and they were all ears. The moment was here...I was looking at my mom hoping she can do something to prevent the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">Oncologist </span>team from speaking negative news...I then quickly shared a look with the second <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">Oncologist </span>doctor, and he immediately gave me a sympathetic face but looked away...He wasn't interested in connecting or feeling with me. Believe it or not, before the main <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">Oncologist </span>had spoken her words, I knew what the verdict was. Besides, it took them over 72 hours to come up with a diagnosis. Benign tumors wouldn't be so complex and could be figured out in about 24 hours...<br /><br /></div><div>As forecasted, the main <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">Oncologist </span>confirmed I had a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">malignant tumor</span>. To mark her words verbatim, she said "Daniel, you have a rare, aggressive and complicated <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Cancer</span>." Even though <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">St. Luke's</span> was to spend additional time studying the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">biopsy</span>, they were still unsure of the type of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Cancer. </span>They were able to also confirm it was a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Sarcoma </span>breed <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Cancer</span>. She wanted to write us a referral to MD Anderson because <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">St. Luke's</span> was not equipped to treat me. There are many <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Sarcoma's </span>out there, but my case was among the rare ones and they were not ready to assume such a responsibility when they are not even able to come up with Final Diagnosis...</div><div><br /></div><div>The terrible part about all this is that the doctor didn't show any emotions and didn't even apologize about sharing such drastic news. As if trained to brutally convey death sentences. It was harsh. She was harsh. She made it all the worse, while also communicating to us that she was in a rush to go see other patients. I don't think I can ever forget her face...<br />Maybe she's used to transmitting negative news on a daily basis and has become callous? Who knows and who cares, but people can choose to be loving and kind everyday. People are where their decisions have lead them, and their personalities are a reflection of who they want to be and who they're comfortable being. That says a lot. I don't think it would cost my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); ">Oncologist </span>anything to feel for me and console me during these initial minutes. Heck, I didn't even know what a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Sarcoma </span>was until after. We had initially thought I had a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Lymphoma Cancer</span>. Regardless her situation or her 'abusive childhood' or whatever other excuse she might give, it does not entitle her to be so dry and heartless with others. </div><div><br /></div><div>Facts are facts and today's fact of the day was that I have a serious illness that I will have to fight. My momentum had been building over the week, and I was ready to face the giant with God's help and His peace in my life. </div><div><br /></div><div>My family and I spent dark minutes together shortly thereafter. It was tough for each one of us. My father, resemblance of strength and head of the family also collapsed. I wasn't used to this but was used to solidarity and love among our family members. We weren't a family blessed with 10 children, so each person's role is always so vital. Couple the love we have for each other with God's grace and God's love for us, we were to be as ready as we could be. Bring it on! </div><div><br /></div><div>My admitting doctor was also my discharging doctor who told us we were free to go home. He also got us the paperwork to transfer us to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MD Anderson, </span>signed and authorized by the<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;"> St. Luke's </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">Oncology </span>and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">Pathology </span>teams. That was good news, as <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MD Anderson</span> is #1 in the world for treating <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Sarcomas</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now comes the 2nd most awaited moment: the removal of the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">IV </span>from my hand. It was buried under heavy duty tape which will come off along with all the hairs in that area. My under-arm was so sensitive to any hand or skin movement. I was dreading removing it although I hated every second it was on my hand. I literally had to keep my arm in one position for 4 days. When I lifted my arm, a monkey could notice that it was wrongly installed.<br />I called for the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">nurse </span>and asked her to bring me small scissors. I wanted to cut the tape around the wires and remove the tape, piece by piece before taking out the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">IV</span>. It was so painful to even touch the tape. You might think this is a useless paragraph Im writing, but the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">IV's </span>removal was so intense that it cannot escape my mind, and I would like it to be part of my 'memories' repertoire. </div><div><br /></div><div>After 30 minutes, I finally removed it and my under-arm was so very <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">RED</span>!! You could see the needle hole in my arm a couple feet away. The area around it was also affected. None of us had ever seen such an <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">IV</span>, including the nurse who freaked out when she saw my arm. It was ridiculous. </div><div><br /></div><div>Later on that afternoon, we get some visitors who stay with us till the hospital discharges me. </div><div>At one point the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">nurse </span>walks into my room and sees 3 persons on my bed and is overwhelmed by the number of people in my room...It was a full house. She walks into the room dazed and confused....A few seconds later, I raise my arm and tell her "I am the patient"...She walks towards me and we all share a laugh, including the nurse. I told her I was blessed with people who love me and care for me. </div><div><br /></div><div>I wasn't going to miss the hospital, but I knew I'd miss the morphine they were injecting in my arm, not cause Im a drug addict, but because I knew I would have tough pain days and sleepless nights ahead of me...However, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">MDA </span>was around the corner.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"><i>Sleeping time: 4 hours.</i></span></div></div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-43106478822546950452010-04-07T02:00:00.000-05:002010-04-21T01:07:29.674-05:00Post-Biopsy Suffering - April 7, 2010<div style="text-align: left;">For this blog posting, I am starting at midnight, the night of the 7th. 60-120 minutes is all I slept due to post-<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Biopsy </span>pain...</div><div><br /></div><div>The nurse gave me pain medication at 10:30pm the night before, but its effect was gone by midnight. I asked her to give me more, but she was not allowed. They have a certain protocol they need to follow. My eyes were drifting away due to the sleeping pill, but my pain was too strong to allow me to fall asleep. </div><div><br /></div><div>She injected me with a dose of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">morphine</span>. I must add that I do not like the feeling of a liquid going into my blood and body through the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">IV</span>. It's so cold and just weird. The <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">morphine </span>is somewhat of a deceiver as it kicks in fast and gives quick relief, but is very short lived. The first dose lasted till 1:30am, and then it went downhill from there. </div><div><br /></div><div>I called the nurse again, and she was only able to give me the pain medication at this point. I had to wait 2 hours for every dose of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">morphine </span>and 3 hours for every pain medication. I didn't want to wait another half hour for <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">morphine </span>and decided to take the pain medication immediately. </div><div><br /></div><div>At 4am, after having taken 2 pain medications, 3 doses of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">morphine </span>and exhausted all my options, my soul was screaming and I was getting paranoid about the tumor invading some organs....So I called my parents, woke them up and asked them to call my uncle in London. Every other physician in Houston that we know was sleeping, and I was curious about what my uncle had to say. He's a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">NeuroSurgeon</span> in the UK. He relieved me by telling me a tumor takes weeks to invade an organ, and that the tumor was probably only applying pressure on the organs. As long as I wasn't going to die that night, I was ok. At times, the pain made that belief imminent. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was also told all this pain came about due to the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">biopsy</span>: moving and touching the tumor isn't by any means a relieving process for the body...</div><div><br /></div><div>I ended up having 5 doses of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">morphine </span>that night and 3 pain medications....They really helped, but by the time I had my 5th dose of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">morphine</span>, its effect only lasted 25 minutes. </div><div><br /></div><div>One interesting observation I want to make is that the nurse would wait for me to drink my sleeping pill, my pain medication etc...or for the full dose of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">morphine </span>to go into my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">IV </span>before leaving the room. They don't even trust the patient with these prescriptions. It's not like Im going to collect them and go sell them on the black market for a few dollars, in exchange for horrific pain...</div><div><br /></div><div>During the day, and specifically during the morning time, about 20 different <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">St. Luke's</span> employees knock and come in our room to do various things. It gets annoying really fast although they're only helping out. Whether it's the person who brings the food, changes the trash bag, changes the bed sheets, cleans the bathroom, picks up the food trays, drops off the food menu, or the nurse who wants to check my blood pressure etc...It's ongoing, and one cannot rest or fall asleep for more than 15 minutes at a time. </div><div><br /></div><div>The <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">Oncologist </span>team came by at 10am. As soon as they walked in, my heart started beating a bit faster; Im not sure this was <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Adrenaline Rush </span>though, lol. I had expectations of talking to one <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;">Oncologist</span>, not 3. We had just spoken to 2 doctors a few minutes earlier. The more doctors in my room, the more dangerous the news. They told us that the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Biopsy </span>was not ready yet. We were anxious to know what my tumor was all about. The <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); ">Oncologists<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> told us they're almost certain it's a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">malignant tumor</span> but that the </span>Pathologists <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); ">were doing more studies on the samples to determine exactly what breed the tumor belonged to. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); ">My family and I got a bad vibe about their news. We knew deep down it wasn't going to be a </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">benign tumor</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); ">. We shared this with my brother Basil, who got on the next flight from DC and came to stay with us for 5 days. I really appreciated him coming so fast...It was awesome to have him around.</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>My family and I stayed around the hospital room the whole day. More visitors came by that night (7) and we decided towards the end, to take a walk around the hospital...It was fun :D</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibPdNPmZAi5f_cC002O8-7FadPptR99-YGtZhfZqohbVp6OsglIQYJvvEr3vkgAVJnXIdK9jWX3fSqya1ip7snL8s_R97kZ-Q6suST1DpB76q8BbCYgZZo2V3MB9rPomwlJiuQJl6YB94/s1600/Walking+Hospital+IV.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibPdNPmZAi5f_cC002O8-7FadPptR99-YGtZhfZqohbVp6OsglIQYJvvEr3vkgAVJnXIdK9jWX3fSqya1ip7snL8s_R97kZ-Q6suST1DpB76q8BbCYgZZo2V3MB9rPomwlJiuQJl6YB94/s320/Walking+Hospital+IV.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461094037809285570" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>After saying bye to our friends, Joanne and I go to McDonald's to pick up some Iced Coffee. Every time I order one of these drinks, I forget whether I prefer the Vanilla or the Hazelnut flavor...Does this ever happen to anyone else? It sucks, lol.<br />But It was fun to walk around with my toolkit. This trip was the only good thing about the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">IV</span>. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-RpgJpP_FBOunBYvf4zCp6sEwqHLL6YSLcUzUc9_ok0ck-hBRrkrRSV_4kqEZdSTkgAJEK7yhyphenhypheniI9S_Am30JSdFC7rKsJVcKGBs85NaMQc54ITLG_ydx1G_CAuFWLQLIEeP1BVGcc7Ls/s1600/Dan+Macdo+IV.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-RpgJpP_FBOunBYvf4zCp6sEwqHLL6YSLcUzUc9_ok0ck-hBRrkrRSV_4kqEZdSTkgAJEK7yhyphenhypheniI9S_Am30JSdFC7rKsJVcKGBs85NaMQc54ITLG_ydx1G_CAuFWLQLIEeP1BVGcc7Ls/s320/Dan+Macdo+IV.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461094796734829346" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Having a McDonald's in a hospital is a debate I will leave for another time....Think of patients being taken care of all day, only to find out they sneak out to Mickey D's and do more damage to their health. How ironic. </div><div><br /></div><div>After picking up the drink, a security person stopped me thinking I was running away from the hospital with my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">IV</span>. lol. Apparently many patients attempt this. </div><div><br /></div><div>My brother's flight landed at 9pm and he spent the night with me in the hospital. It turned out to be one of my best sleeping nights. I also can't complain when I get brother bonding time. It's precious. We talk about everything and anything. I confide in him like no other. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"><i>Sleeping time: 6 hours.</i></span></div><div><br /></div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-59431139909597181952010-04-06T12:30:00.000-05:002010-04-21T01:07:48.225-05:00Biopsy Day - April 6, 2010A few days ago, Joanne introduced me to the song "<b>Healer</b>" by the great band <b>Hillsong</b>. I immediately fell in love with it because of the lyrics that touched me deeply as well as me being able to relate to it now. I could hear it over and over again in my head, believing that God is my Healer - although I was walking through the fire with Him. <div><br /></div><div>Here's the song. It actually loops into a second song, which is also good... </div><div><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxuKm-iG0fFB5eqPw0EE2hIn6WCTuhZ6SyedZvFpD6a5fQhSTbTEQ1NBMEHusgp100cYt2FmTuIFtNxELkMsw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(28, 30, 31); line-height: 18px; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background- color:transparent;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"The hardships of forced marches are often more painful than the dangers of battle"<br />-General Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson</span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>I was scheduled to have a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Biopsy </span>later that day, and stayed without food, as the doctor had instructed. I tried to prepare myself mentally for what was ahead: more needles, more tests, more pain. Knowing that they were going to stick long needles through my body to take samples of the tumor really scared me despite everyone telling me it wouldn't hurt. Besides, I was a graduate with High Honors now, since I went through "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">The</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">IV Night</span>" with 3 blood-thirsty lurking nurses -- I don't think it can get any worse than that. </div><div><br /></div><div>Around 10:00 am, one guy came with a stretcher to take me to the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Biopsy</span> room. This moment defined one of the few 'steps' in this process. I was ready to knock out processes one after the other to put them behind me. As he called my name, mixed emotions of happiness and fear were now at war. I looked at my parents, who immediately gave me the look of "Son, it's OK, you're going to be OK, God is with you". They got up and were ready to follow us. </div><div><br /></div><div>The guy pushing me was a very nice guy. He was friendly and kind, and his age wasn't too far away from mine. I told him, "I can walk next to you if you like, you won't have to worry about rolling me -- and I won't tell your boss you didn't push me, haha", he smiled and said "Don't worry about it, this is my job...I enjoy this..." so I told him "Let's do it, Imma hop on this stretcher and then we can roll". I transitioned from my bed to the stretcher with care though, because my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">IV</span> was still on my right arm and any false movement would still hurt me. </div><div><br /></div><div>As he was pushing me around the hospital after covering me with fresh white sheets, I felt like telling him to run with me! Haha...It was actually fun because I was awake and in decent physical condition. I guess Ive seen too many movies with these stretchers. Good thing about this stretcher ride is that every time my eyes crossed someone else's, the person would smile at me. I wish people everywhere had this attitude and smiled to everyone else. </div><div><br /></div><div>We get to the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Biopsy</span> waiting room and my parents stay behind, not too far away. I bid them farewell with a confident attitude as to not worry my mom. It's unfortunate they weren't allowed in my waiting area. A few minutes later, I notice the 2 big double doors open up. Im looking carefully and waiting to see if my mom had somehow made it this far. I had a feeling she'd show up. She always does, lol. And Alas! It was her once again! She's on her wheelchair and as if fighting for her life to make it to me on time. Such a beautiful picture of a mother and her son. She spoke to a nurse who granted her permission into the waiting room. I was thrilled; I really enjoy our bonding moments during these memorable times and knew this one wouldn't be any different. She always has wise words to share with me. </div><div><br /></div><div>We exchanged kisses and one-handed hugs and talked and prayed for a few minutes before the surgeon arrived. The team in charge of my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Biopsy </span>was exceptional. It was 3 of them. They came to talk to us before the process and made us so comfortable. I was feeling great and ready! The surgeon was remarkably genuine and kind and was interested in my well-being, rather than just performing his job. After explaining to us in detail what would take place in the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Biopsy </span>room, he told my mother "Ma'm, we'll take good care of him" - and they took me in. This moment reminded me of when they took my mother a few months ago for her hip surgery. We were in the same situation, but tables had turned. </div><div><br /></div><div>Inside the room, they had me lie on my stomach and put a triangular cushion under my right side hip/upper thigh so that the surgeon would have leverage and can easily access the area. It was going to be a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">CT guided Biopsy</span>. I had to lay in that position and wait a few minutes as they were getting some stuff ready. I remember looking to my right side and seeing a box filled with 18, 19 and 22 inch needles...They were very long and quite thick. But they didn't deter me. My initial thought was that these were Texas-sized needles but that I was soon going to mess with them; I had reached this point: I was making jokes and laughing at myself. Silly me! I was actually more worried about the local <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Anesthesia </span>injection I would be getting in my lower back/butt. The good news is that the surgeon wasn't going to surprise me. He would announce every step...Like I said, he was a super pleasant person. </div><div> </div><div>He initially wanted to inject me with one dose of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Anesthesia</span>, but I told him and his nurse that I had strong tolerance and I didn't think it was enough. I felt the first <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Anesthesia </span>injection followed by a mild lower back local <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Anesthesia </span>shot. It wasn't too bad.<br />He was then ready to take his samples and I wobbled on his first one, so he asked the nurse to inject me another round of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Anesthesia </span>because I felt that one. Second time around, I moved a bit less, but still enough for him to ask her to inject me with a 3rd dose. He was honest when he said he wanted me to be comfortable. I was drowsy, light headed and did not feel the rest of the procedure. It was smooth. I slurred some words to the nurse and decided to just shut up. lol. I should have probably gone to sleep but the thought of someone grabbing stuff from inside my body was not dreaming material. A few minutes later, I couldn't hear anything but I didn't want to turn around or move abruptly. I then ask the surgeon "Are we done?" And he tells me "Daniel, you're supposed to be knocked out buddy!" :))</div><div>We all laugh a bit and they tell me that the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Biopsy </span>was successful and that I was on my way out in a few minutes. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was glad this part was over. Another 'transportation person' takes me back to my room on a stretcher. I spoke to her the whole way back as the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Anesthesia <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">effect didn't last too long.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> Turns out she had just started her job and was going to school part-time and doing this full-time. I like how they work 3 days a week, 13 hour shifts! </span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>I was excited to go back to my hospital bedroom and rest on the bed while chilling with the family. I had 2 breakfast trays and 2 lunch trays waiting for me but I couldn't eat them because I still had another <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">CT Scan</span> planned for 7pm that day!! I was starving!! I won't go in too much detail, but the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">CT Scan</span> was very painful as I had to stay still on my back for 15 min. My flank and upper thigh were really really really hurting...beyond the norm.</div><div><br /></div><div>I managed to knock out most of the trays waiting for me in the room. It was a feast! :) </div><div>A few minutes after I got back to my room, 9 visitors dropped by to keep us company. We had a great time and we were all hoping for good results. </div><div><br /></div><div>After they left, my pain becomes intolerable....I know, it's no coincidence. The nurse gives me pain medication as well as a sleeping pill. I was ready to crash. I was worn out. But....</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px;font-size:13;"><i>Sleeping time: 1 hour.</i></span></div></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-66050536597975728482010-04-05T23:00:00.000-05:002010-04-21T01:08:01.500-05:00A day to remember - April 5, 2010Today was a crazy day. We had expectations, but they weren't met.<div>I also fasted from midnight the previous night hoping and assuming I'd do my biopsy...</div><div><br />We met with <span style="font-weight: bold;">Dr. Raad</span> at <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">MD Anderson</span> at 8:30am to get registered at the hospital and to set up the biopsy. Running back and forth with doctors/nurses for over 2 hours, <span>we were able to <span style="font-weight: bold;">miraculously</span></span> get registered fast. Like I said in my previous post, on average, it takes a patient 3-5 weeks to get registered at the hospital. God was working on my case.<br /><br />It kills me to know that such an important and busy physician would take 2-3 of his busiest hours (Monday Morning) to help a fellow friend. What sacrifice is this? I was really touched by everything this man kept doing as he was pulling me out of the pits. I regard <b>Dr. Raad</b> as an angel sent from Heaven.<br /><br />After doing a brutal blood test (the mark stayed on my arm for over a week - it was only 3 tubes), insurance called us while we were in the <span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Biopsy </span>waiting room and told us that we had to do everything at <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">St. Luke's</span> because they are my Primary Care Providers although I had connections at <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">MDA</span>. They were not going to cover me at <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">MDA</span>. This was disappointing but we were OK with it as we were hoping to transfer and be referred to <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">MDA </span>later on, after exhausting <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">St. Luke's</span> possibilities.<br /><br /></div><div>It was upsetting to my stomach that I had fasted all day and ended up not doing the biopsy, due to insurance....</div><div><br />I get admitted into <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">St. Luke's</span> at 8pm after waiting for 5 hours in the Admissions Center. Our tough times had just begun as we didn't know anyone in this hospital to help out...but it's OK to go through what other patients go through. Why am I better treated anyways?<br /><br />As I get into my hospital room (<span style="font-style: italic;">Yellow Elevators - 16th Floor - Room #1609</span>), the nurse comes over and welcomes me.<br />Here are a few pictures of me that night right after check-in:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2qQfQHMwYsGzqPZgXSTljLqJbu9FRHJlwxusBbSzxGeeRSVtymlDiB7WLaiM8oiwymd28VhmyUqnIHaylVeiKeorDxk_yZkQYysP7oSBDxjUly8EWCPc2LykxLSWnD-vPDkx9ZTHnlik/s1600/040510+-+St+Lukes+First+Day.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2qQfQHMwYsGzqPZgXSTljLqJbu9FRHJlwxusBbSzxGeeRSVtymlDiB7WLaiM8oiwymd28VhmyUqnIHaylVeiKeorDxk_yZkQYysP7oSBDxjUly8EWCPc2LykxLSWnD-vPDkx9ZTHnlik/s320/040510+-+St+Lukes+First+Day.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459995444649343026" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStJAxTF1-NTM5ctGvnSMnX-5jgErSbRzGivG_Hz3t5b7VB4JHqE9zWlF7PWibuwEuf_Xs1bn-mIfeCQu8fq79P3H7UzEKgayf_RAkPdLvt7DnEQ6xkwsXzgGsAaCaq-6OA57PXH0_jkY/s1600/040510+-+Hugging+Mom.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStJAxTF1-NTM5ctGvnSMnX-5jgErSbRzGivG_Hz3t5b7VB4JHqE9zWlF7PWibuwEuf_Xs1bn-mIfeCQu8fq79P3H7UzEKgayf_RAkPdLvt7DnEQ6xkwsXzgGsAaCaq-6OA57PXH0_jkY/s320/040510+-+Hugging+Mom.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459995589543249826" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNb4y9GeTAXVmAtlovFpc05wXc5l0XPh8IjED8gP1npfOobd_g1qoPaLxeucK-pJrix5kqtlwUmNufEki0F9y_1apGdiVt9u0NWTw-rWoWybZ-B0kHXFUoAmJ04y5tm5ugTV2GXLbgubM/s1600/040510+-+Some+Mother+loving.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNb4y9GeTAXVmAtlovFpc05wXc5l0XPh8IjED8gP1npfOobd_g1qoPaLxeucK-pJrix5kqtlwUmNufEki0F9y_1apGdiVt9u0NWTw-rWoWybZ-B0kHXFUoAmJ04y5tm5ugTV2GXLbgubM/s320/040510+-+Some+Mother+loving.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459995734155560338" border="0" /></a><br />She also immediately wants to stick me with an <span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">IV <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">to draw blood (6 tubes) and inject fluids into my body</span></span>. I remembered the brutal blood shot I took that morning at <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">MDA</span>, so I was inclined to wait a bit to get over it mentally, but we just went ahead and got started with the process.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1st stick:</span> It was loooooong and painful and she wasn't able to draw blood! I was so upset it was a failed prick....but agreed a few minutes later to try again.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />2nd stick: </span>I told the nurse to call her colleague, as I was skeptical about her <span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">IV </span>expertise. She shaves some hair on my upper hand and sticks me. She was moving the needle left and right, up and down to find the vain. Im looking at my father while all this is happening and Im asking him if we're almost done and he's not able to answer....so I start stressing out. It was soooooo painful, once again. Im not a weakling, but they were killing me. They fill 2 tubes with blood, and then all of a sudden, I see both nurses holding my arm and squeezing it to force the blood out. Can you believe it? They finally gave up on the 3rd tube and took out the needle after moving it around. The pain was unbelievable. By far the worst sticks I had seen to date (with the exception of one about 10 years ago). I was already sweating, and needed a 15 minute break. I was really tense by that time.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3rd stick: </span>You're probably thinking I have bad vains or were too stressed...well, let me say that you'd be able to see my vains even if you were a few feet away from me. I have good, solid vains, and during the first 2 sticks I wasn't even nervous, thus not affecting the nurses from doing their job.<br />The 2nd nurse decides to stick me on my under-arm and I was afraid of that location because the skin is sensitive there and I knew Id get hurt. This stick was the most painful and the most memorable one. Not only is the needle long (because we're using it for the <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">CT Scans</span> the next day), but she kept moving it up, down, left, right to find the vain 'flow' to the point where my dad got so furious and told her to remove it immediately!! The needle wasn't 'fitting' right. The nurse then tells me to twist my arm as she twists the long needle so that she can remove it. This is insane. This <span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">IV </span>experience so far was unlike anything any of us had seen. It was ridiculous. I then asked for an <span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">IV Specialist</span>, or an <span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">IV Therapist</span>, as they call them.<br /><br />Here's a picture of me stressing out after 3 failed needle pricks....<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiehRIT3OiR-R6PXN2JB9GR2ht9jvo8-7dmUSu65q2AgH1kcuwwe158IL5Auh-YDoRmQw-Xv-7nNJUeWwu3TiPiRhccbCvHiB_fyprjKQax1iJu-CGgzR9_Y4XwtqprvQGZa_JQiHRTEHk/s1600/040510+-+Dan+Worried+about+IVYs++2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiehRIT3OiR-R6PXN2JB9GR2ht9jvo8-7dmUSu65q2AgH1kcuwwe158IL5Auh-YDoRmQw-Xv-7nNJUeWwu3TiPiRhccbCvHiB_fyprjKQax1iJu-CGgzR9_Y4XwtqprvQGZa_JQiHRTEHk/s320/040510+-+Dan+Worried+about+IVYs++2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459993991578200690" border="0" /></a><br />There are 2 other pricks you don't see, on the other side of the arm:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDbt43E9IDRIwn_gywOUwIjPlCjhNW7fm37Bi44rsVOJHVDeXI3UvrFrLLTPIBpTVCWRkZUBKYaLeGwBgTQ5120_yNo56Hovy2wQRwYl7ljEefSYE-iXLReHDM6w1XoFmxMcY4rojv3n4/s1600/040510+-+Failed+IVY+%232.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDbt43E9IDRIwn_gywOUwIjPlCjhNW7fm37Bi44rsVOJHVDeXI3UvrFrLLTPIBpTVCWRkZUBKYaLeGwBgTQ5120_yNo56Hovy2wQRwYl7ljEefSYE-iXLReHDM6w1XoFmxMcY4rojv3n4/s320/040510+-+Failed+IVY+%232.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459994416404780338" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4th stick:</span> The new <span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">IV Specialist</span> didn't seem too nice, but I didn't care as long as she did her job and got me out of this mess. It had already been 2 hours since they started this <span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">IV </span>process. The nurse decided to put the <span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">IV </span>on my under-arm, not too far away from the other prick and I explain to her how sensitive that area is, but she doesn't listen and insists on that location... She does it and finishes my blood test, but I was in soooooo much pain after she finished. She then asks me "Do you want me to remove it, and then I'll re-prick?". It was beyond me. I told her "Are you serious? I wouldn't lie about my pain, but it's hurting a lot. Ive had <span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">IV</span>'s before and this one isn't like the others". I waited about half an hour for the pain to go, and it didn't. She had stuck some intense tape on my <span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">IV</span>. Nothing was going to remove it, but my hand was already all red, and it was very uncomfortable....Turns out for the next few days, I had my hand hanging in a specific way as I couldn't fold it, move it or anything....I felt the pain all day everyday! I decided it was better than a 5th murderous prick!! Maybe not the best decision after all? Who knows.<br /><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;">Tonight was my first night on Narcotic medicine and sleeping pills. They helped despite my pain that kept increasing.</span></div><div><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"><i>Sleeping time: 5 hours. </i></span><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747577242627490152.post-23389365259027812472010-04-04T15:00:00.000-05:002010-04-21T01:08:15.168-05:00Spiritual Food - April 4, 2010We were thinking of going to church today, but it was a bit difficult for the family. We weren't too energetic (my mom and I) and we were lost in our own world. I was barely sleeping due to pain building up on my back as well as pain on my right flank. It was starting to become intolerable; I was therefore waking up super early and taking naps around noon.<br /><br />We decided to have a Bible study at home to make up for not going to church. My mom lead this one, so you can rest assured that the passage was wisely chosen.<br />The Study was a great blessing for all of us.<br />Joanne also shared with us what the Lord showed her that morning. It was from the book of <span style="font-weight: bold;">Hosea, Chapter 6, verses 1 and 2</span>:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Come, let us return to the Lord. </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">He has torn us to pieces </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">But He will heal us;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">He has injured us</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">but He will bind up our wounds</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">After two days He will revive us; </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">On the third day He will restore us, </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">that we may live in His presence."</span><br /><br />These previous verses were really timely and we (as a family) were starting to let go on everything and let God take charge of my situation, whether the tumor was malignant or benign. It takes a while to get into that mind frame, and we were ramping up all our spiritual journeys towards fully relying on him and not stressing out or fearing anything that came our way. <span style="font-weight: bold;">An extreme test of faith....</span>but, I, personally, have been ready since I prayed alone on Friday. God gave me full peace, one that I cannot explain to anyone. I pretty much wake up and sleep and live life like you! I don't even think or remember that I have <span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Cancer</span>. Its toll on me has been null, excluding the physical side of it as I am in constant pain.<br /><br />That night I texted a dear friend Fadi, and he texted me back saying there might be a group invasion into our house. At first, I wasn't too sure what that meant, but as soon as I saw all the church singles group walk in our house (about 20 people), I knew he wasn't joking around. lol. I felt, as always, blessed and loved beyond measure, although not everyone in the group knew I was sick, but they still showed up.<br /><br /><b>Dr. Raad</b> visited us on this Sunday night and contacted <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">MD Anderson</span> physicians and doctors on the spot. He found a colleague who accepted to do my biopsy in less than 24 hours. That was a miracle. Besides, getting admitted into <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">MDA </span>in less than 24 hours is a miracle in itself. We went to sleep knowing we had a plan of attack for the morning....It was a last minute diversion.<br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><div><br /></div><div>My pain had become constant and I was having a hard time sleeping at night...<br /><i>Sleeping time: 4 hours.</i></div>Daniel Haddadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09464941401983426308noreply@blogger.com0