Discharged and Re-Diagnosed

The morning of January 5th was my final brain radiation treatment, followed by a consultation to remind me of the long list of potential side effects. So far I’d been spared any – perhaps because of the high dose of steroids I was still taking – but apparently, they can still appear 3 or 4 months after the treatment.  Alopecia (hair loss) was just a matter of time though.

One of my “roommates” at Toronto Western was a short Italian Canadian gentleman whose English was minimal. What was pretty clear was that he very much disliked the hospital food and that he needed to go home so he could get “real” food to get healthy again. And it seemed like all the preparation was underway to send him home that day. However when the transport ambulance staff wheeled me back up to the floor, my regular bed was in the hallway, and we were told it would take a few moments to put things back in place.

It didn’t take much to surmise that some kind of “code” had been called, and my furniture pushed out of the way while efforts were – unsuccessfully – to revive him.  The mood throughout the rest of the afternoon was subdued as the family came to say goodbye and then staff removed his body to the hospital morgue.  Having watched him muttering as he shuffled with his walker to and from the washroom before I left for treatment, I was reminded of the frailty and unpredictability of life.

Discharged

The very eager and charming student doctor visited after lunch to discuss my discharge plans. He made it very clear they weren’t trying to kick me out but at the same time felt that I should be fine if I’d had enough of hospital life. And by this point I really had. My only concern was going home to my apartment alone in case side effects raised their ugly heads but since it hadn’t really been an issue so far, decided it would be worth taking the chance.

Because of the brain lesions and subsequent radiation, I was told that I was not allowed to drive for at least one year. Luckily though I live in Forest Hill Village, which consists of two blocks of commercial and retail, two stoplights north of St Clair West and Spadina. I’m literally a 100-metre walk from 6 banks, 3 coffee shops, a convenience store, a Kitchen Table grocery store, 2 drug stores, a book store, a What A Bagel, a Subway, a Freshii, 3 juice stores, and LCBO (not that I’m drinking these days), etc. You get the picture – pretty much anything I need without driving. Plus it’s only a 10-minute walk to the St Clair West subway station or streetcar. And I’ve been getting Sobey’s Voila grocery deliveries pretty much since we’ve been working from home so no concerns on that end either.

The only thing still to finalize was a schedule for weaning me off the steroid over the next few weeks, so when the doctors had finalized that, a sister picked me up and dropped me home, where of course it was nice to sleep in my own bed without being wakened at 6am for an ECG 🙂

Re-Diagnosed?

When the ER doctor spotted the tumour in the lung, he quite logically referred me to the “Lung” clinic at Princess Margaret and I’d had some inititial chats with Dr Liu on that team.  However by the time the biopsy results came back in the third week of January, the diagnosis was actually malignant melanoma, more commonly known of as a skin cancer. I clearly had trouble getting my head around the idea that a tumour in my lung wasn’t  lung cancer, but skin cancer….but eventually gave up and just rolled with it lol.

This meant I was now being transferred to the “Skin” clinic – which is conveniently co-located in the hospital with the lung clinic but with a completely different medical team. I had my first telephone consult with my new medical oncologist on January 19th, quickly followed by an in person consult the following Monday 24th.  The recommended treatment is a combination immunotherapy of Opdivo and Yervoy consisting of four cycles administered three weeks apart, followed by two cycles of just the Yervoy, two weeks apart, then finally a mainteance cycle every 4 weeks. For those not familiar with it, immunotherapy attempts to use medications to boost one’s own immune system to fight the cancer cells, whereas chemotherapy uses medications to destroy the cancer cells directly.  Of course both these medications come with a raft of potential side effects to watch out for!

Again things move pretty quickly with blood labs scheduled for January 31 and the first immunotherapy cycle for February 1. Later that day I’m also given a PET (Positron emission tomography) CT whole body scan. This produces a 3D images for a more accurate diagnosis.

The following week I developed a rash around my torso – one of those pesky side effects – but a steroid cream helped clear that up in about a week. The PET CT scan also showed something that may or may not have been anything on my colon, so a colonoscopy was scheduled for Valentines Day. Anyone who has ever had one, knows the challenge is not with the procedure but rather with the two days of preparation before when you need to cleanse until…well….you’re extremely clean. Basically two days of never getting far from the bathroom! But on the plus side, there was nothing to be found of concern.

The same week though I had developed double vision and because of the lateness in the day, my medical oncologist sent me to the TGH ER…again.  And after another CT brain scan, was proscribed the Dex steroid again and an MRI head scan scheduled at PMH the next day. By Friday I met with the “Brain” medical team (also conveniently in the same clinic and skin and lung LOL) where they explained a larger lesion in the are of the brain that deals with vision seemed to be bleeding which was causing the double vision. By now the steroid had reduced the swelling. They made clear that the total brain radiation would continue to have effect on these lesions for several more weeks and hopefully the blood would eventually be reabsorbed into the tumour itself.

One question still remained though and that was whether to proceed with the next cycle of immunotherapy (IT) scheduled for the following Tuesday. Steroid meds generally make the IT less effective. Luckily my brain oncologist and the medical oncologist were both present in the clinic and able to work on a plan to reduce the steroid without having to postpone the next cycle of IT. So far this time, no side effects!

Holidays at the Hospital

After testing negative for COVID on Christmas Day, I was moved from my rather luxurious single isolation room to a semi-private room which, at least for the first night was just occupied by me – and by the window no less. And I was very pleased that the steroid I’d been prescribed, had relieved the “brain fog” I’d been suffering from for the previous few days.

The “modified holiday menu” that day included a chocolate yule log dessert which was quite edible.  I know everyone likes to dump on hospital food but for the 13 days I was in hospital I ate everything that was brought on my tray and only once was there mystery meat – which I ate anyway.  Perhaps I’m just not that picky – or perhaps I subscribe to the thinking that if I don’t have to make it myself, it can’t be all bad LOL!

The next day I received a “roommate” who highlighted for me the challenges staff face in caring for patients when their first (or perhaps even second) language is not English. This was actually the case with most of my fellow patients: Chinese (I couldn’t tell if it was Mandarin, Cantonese or another dialect), Greek, Italian, Portuguese. Not surprising of course considering the diversity of the city or that the hospital was barely a five-minute walk to Kensington Market. It was impressive to hear how staff would make every effort to be understood – made even more challenging by their need to wear masks and sometimes face shields. Sometimes this meant contacting an adult son or daughter by phone (visitors being restricted by then) to help with translation. Sometimes if the messaging was less critical (like “Mr X, you need to eat”) it meant using Google Translate from their phones. Sometimes it meant asking a fellow staff member who spoke the patient’s language to assist. And sometimes – usually a conversation with a doctor – staff could book a phone appointment with an official translator (through AT&T I think) who had training in medical terminology. In every case I was privy to (and curtains between beds are definitely not intended to be soundproof LOL) staff made every possible effort while being pleasant and respectful.

After a couple of nights in the semi-private room, I was moved to the 4th floor into a 4-bed ward. My OPS colleagues would probably ask why, when my health plan included semi-private coverage, I would not ask for one.  I knew OMICRON was ramping up and semis were needed for isolation until COVD tests came back. Within a couple more nights, I was moved to another 4-bed ward on the third floor so they could change the fourth into a COVID floor. It just seemed a bit selfish (and probably pointless) to even ask.

My sisters, while not allowed to visit, sent up care packages of clean underwear, socks, books, toiletries, and even some food. During the last move, my phone charger disappeared – and luckily they rushed a replacement to me or things would have got pretty tense! LOL

While patients weren’t required to wear masks in their room, they also weren’t allowed to leave their room unless going to or from an appointment. Either a hospital porter would arrive with a stretcher or a transfer ambulance team with their stretcher.  I was probably no more than 12 steps to the washroom but there was no way of getting any exercise like laps around the floor’s corridors that you might have done pre-COVID. I really wasn’t feeling bad so made sure to get dressed every day and usually sat in a chair beside the bed to read, listen to audiobooks, or watch tv or videos on my phone.

Biopsy

The next steps were to schedule a biopsy so they could confirm the type of cancer. The obvious culprit was lung cancer since that was the largest tumour so for this, I was under the care of a thoracic (i.e. lung) oncologist, Dr. Liu at Princess Margaret, but the procedure itself was done at Toronto Western. After more scans and x-rays, I was given a local anesthetic. The biopsy itself consists of taking numerous “core samples” of the tumour using special needles while watching under some high-resolution cameras to ensure accuracy. I don’t recall the whole procedure taking more than 30-45 minutes and was painless. Because of the holidays and staff shortages due to COVID, it was made clear that the results may take 10-14 days which was longer than usual.

Back in the ward, and after various follow-up x-rays, a small pneumothorax (or collapse of a portion of the lung) was identified. Luckily it was small enough that supplemental oxygen was all that was prescribed. It did mean some further reduction of mobility but after several days, it disappeared and the oxygen was no longer required.

UHN Portal

Any of you familiar with any of the University Health Network Hospitals (Toronto General, Toronto Western, Princess Margaret, and Toronto Rehab) will probably also be familiar with the UHN Portal. It’s a one-stop website that contains all your appointments and all your test results, and can also send you email notifications when new entries are made. So those of us with a smartphone (and English as our first language…) would get the information at the same time as the attending doctor – and often hours before they were actually able to tell you in person lol.  It’s true that some of the information definitely used obscure (at least to a layman) medical terminology but one could generally get the gist of it. For example, it was clear that over several x-rays of my lung post-biopsy, the pneumothorax was shrinking and eventually undetectable.

The “clinic notes” were the most amusing though. They all began:

Mr. Stephens is a pleasant 64-year-old gentleman diagnosed recently with...

I mean I think I was very pleasant with the doctors and was initially flattered. After the third oncologist used the same wording, I started to wonder what description they’d use for a grumpy patient who may or may not have behaved very gentlemanly LOL.

Now we just had to wait for the results of the biopsy and various related blood tests. And arrange a consultation with a neuro (i.e. brain) oncologist.

NEXT UP: Total Brain Radiation

The Talk

So as requested, I returned to the Emergency Room at Toronto General Hospital the next day. The ER was obviously busier during the day but eventually, I was taken to an internal waiting room designed I suppose for patients that didn’t necessarily require a bed.  There were perhaps a dozen chairs all separated by plexiglass shields and a TV in the corner quietly playing CP24.  Clearly, this was a case when I should have brought my earbuds!

After several hours and a CT scan, an ER doctor called me into the hallway to tell me what they had found. “I’m sorry” he started without looking me in the eye, “besides a tumour in your lung, and at least one in a lymph node, the scans show several smaller lesions in your brain”.  Inside my head I’m thinking, wow that escalated quickly.

He quickly moves on. “I’m referring you to the Lung RAMP program [Lung Cancer Rapid Assessment and Management Program] at Princess Margaret Hospital. If you don’t hear from someone about an appointment within a week, call this number.” He then hands me a pink copy of his mostly illegible notes with a phone number, and that was pretty much that.  As he walked away I couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked.

As I’m trying to process all this, I find my way out of the ER and walk the subway on the opposite corner of the large hospital complex. Even for someone who really doesn’t know much about cancer, the fact that it had spread to various parts of my body, certainly didn’t sound good. On the other hand, I had no idea about treatments or survival rates, and I had no obvious symptoms of anything being awry. I guess I just decided to adopt a neutral mindset until I knew more.

I have three younger sisters, Anne, Lynn, and Sue. Each of them has had or is still dealing with their own cancer experiences with members of their respective families. In addition, Sue is a Registered Nurse working in a hospital and while she doesn’t deal with cancer patients per se, she is certainly helpful when it comes to questions to ask the various doctors. I shared what news I had at this point with each of them. At some point, I also told my 88 and 89-year-old parents who still live in the family home, 160km east of Toronto, built by my great-great-grandfather circa 1869. As I expected, they were all extremely supportive.

I did receive a telephone appointment for the PMH RAMP clinic for the following week. I kept in touch with my sisters too however they were increasingly concerned that what might have been originally attributed to shock was something more serious. I was finding it harder to finish thoughts and sentences (yes more than usual lol) – what is often referred to as “brain fog,” and by December 24th they decided an “intervention” was required. Sue let me know she was coming to pick me (and the dogs) up and dropping me at the Toronto Western Hospital (also part of the University Hospital Network or UHN) and taking the dogs back to her place. I didn’t argue as I knew things weren’t right and did my best to pull together all the things she would need for the dogs.

I was able to check myself into the ER, and after the usual wait was assigned a cubicle and all the checks from nurses and doctors. More scans revealed edema around the brain masses that were the most likely cause of the brain fog and so prescribed a strong steroid to control that problem. By this time my other sister Anne had somehow managed to talk her way into the ER to hang out with me and was relieved when they decided to admit me in the early morning hours of Christmas Day. I vaguely recall being moved to a single room with an anteroom, a nurse wearing all the PPE you could wear taking a COVID 19 swab, then drifting off to sleep.