Day 3 – Slow Recovery   October 9th, 2011

After Linda and the kids left last night, my plans for a restful night kind of came to a close with the introduction of a high fever and chills. The fever lasted most of the night and finally broke this morning. I kept telling myself that fever was a sign of the on-going battle of TIL vs. evil cancer cells, so in a way it was a good thing. And my doctors later confirmed that probably was the cause too.

However, it should be noted that the TIL attack is something that goes on for weeks, and it’s generally not clear until the second of post-treatment scans (which would be early December) of how well the treatment works. So feeling tumors from the outside to see if they have gotten smaller is something of a pointless exercise, at least this soon after the TIL was administered.

From the comments that Linda’s post received yesterday it might not have been clear that the 5kg of water weight I needed to drop was to ensure proper organ function, as much of that weight was in my organs (such as my lungs), and not any sort of vanity. I’m close to half-way there, and my lung capacity seems to reflect that.

The other side-effect of treatment that has been increasingly frustrating is that I have “dry mouth“, meaning that my salivary glands simply don’t turn on. So, to eat most things that don’t have a thin gravy of their own, I have to keep my mouth lubricated with water in between bites, and sometimes combine the two. That turns something like a protein bar into mushy cereal – not a great texture sensation.

A related symptom of this whole dry mouth situation is that my ability to taste has gotten terribly screwed up. Certain foods have no flavor (like Chef Boyardee single-pack macaroni and cheese – though Linda says it doesn’t have much flavor to start with), foods that should have quite a bit of flavor (Chef Boyardee single-pack Beef-a-Roni) are bland, while for other foods, even a few flakes of black pepper can make the dish inedible. I can taste sweetness to some extent though, so I’m thinking once I’m back in Boston I may have to work my way through Ben & Jerry’s collection if it looks like ice cream is edible to me.

I also learned that the carbonation from carbonated beverages is actually painful to my mouth.

I have some various dry mouth rinses, gels, and sprays – all of which work, but only temporarily, and being a mouth breather, things get dried out pretty quickly.

Hopefully my salivary system and tongue will heal up soon enough (it could be months) and I can start enjoying food again as opposed to having it be a torturous necessity for survival.

Perhaps I should be glad that this is the only side-effect from treatment that has clearly manifested itself, as I’ve had virtually no nausea (although in part that could be contributed to by the thrice daily infusions I get of Zofran), and while my energy levels are low (lots of naps), I don’t seem to actually be suffering from extreme fatigue (again, knock on wood). This may still change, but I’m hoping it doesn’t.

Today has been mostly spent connected to my IV drip system, first getting potassium phosphate to replenish my electrolytes (a four hour drip), then followed by two units of blood (two hours each – just finishing my second unit now) to boost my hemocrit and hemoglobin counts. I may also get more platelets tomorrow.

The family was with me most of the day, and during the points I wasn’t napping we took advantage of the rather decent WiFi connection here to watch a couple of streaming TV shows from Amazon (and yes, I have an Amazon Fire on order :-) ).

They (the nurses here) expect I will be under their care for another ten days or so, so my immune system can get built up enough that I can safely (with face mask on) travel back to Boston for a couple of weeks before coming back down for my first post-treatment scans in early November.

One ambling day at a time…

 

Day 2 Slow and uneventful…yeah!   October 8th, 2011

From Linda…

The night went well with sleep only interrupted for medications and vitals about 3 or 4 times. They continued to give Jake the medications to counter the IL2 effects for 24 hours after the last dose. Jake decided he was up for the morning with his 6am meds and sent me back to the Lodge to collect some more winks with the kids.

Jake had follow-up chest X-rays this morning which showed enough improvement in his lung congestion that they took him off the extra oxygen. Jake is happy not to be tethered once more. He is hoping he won’t have to sleep upright tonight. They also started him on meds to help him shed the 5+ kilos of water he gained due to the IL2.

Bas stayed with Jake during the afternoon while Krystyana and I ran errands including buying special foods that sounded interesting to Jake’s suffering taste buds and stomach. He is eating more although it is taking a lot of effort on his part.

Krystyana took Jake out for a walk in the halls under nurse’s orders. He needs to start moving more and lying down less to regain his strength and combat fatigue. 

Jake was feeling well enough that the sent me back to the Lodge for the night so he can go to sleep early himself tonight. Sweet dreams.

 

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Day 0 – The TIL Are In   October 6th, 2011

Starting just before 1pm today here in Bethesda, 69.3 billion TIL cells started their journey from the incubators and processors at the TIL lab here at the National Cancer Institute, and minutes later were becoming part of the body their forebears originated from five weeks ago.

I had a chance to meet some of the people in this fabulous TIL lab earlier today. I even got to meet and shake the hand of the woman who mothered my cells into splendid abundance. I thanked her and her colleagues profusely for helping me get a shot at a new beginning with their wondrous science and dedication – the TIL Lab folks rock!

The billions and billions of TIL cells are now circulating throughout my body, and in a half hour will be getting turbo charged with my first dose of IL-2.

That’s it for the moment. Need to focus on the what the nurse needs of me now :-)

 

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I have successfully finished being exposed to 1200cG (centi-grays) of radiation over the course of the past three days thanks to an awesome team of specialists. And I even have a certificate to prove it!

The wonderful certificate of appreciation I received this afternoon after my sixth and final course of full body radiation. Even got a hug from my radiation nurse!

The wonderful certificate of appreciation I received this afternoon after my sixth and final course of full body radiation. Even got a hug from my radiation nurse!

And still, beyond a dry mouth, and a bit of fatigue, not much wear to show for all that, yet. Hopefully the radiation did its job in killing off all my bone marrow – that’s what the main purpose was of getting the radiation.

The oncology radiologist I spoke to this afternoon after my final treatment commented that I went through the radiation treatment amazingly well, and while he doesn’t know exactly why, perhaps my relative youth, good health, and good energy levels might have helped. He also indicated that there is a chance that some of my organs may have been damaged a bit (which would be fixable or heal-able), but only repeated testing (urine and blood samples) will determine if any such situations exist. So far so good (and please continue knocking on wood – it’s definitely been helping.)

On to what’s next…

One of my favorite movie quotes is from the 1980 version The Blues Brothers:

Elwood: It’s a 106 miles to Chicago. We got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it’s dark and we’re wearing sunglasses.
Jake: Hit it!

There is the absurdity of wearing sunglasses at night, but in reality is it a checklist in the pursuit of a goal. In Jake and Elwood’s case, that is to deliver concert proceeds to a tax collectors office in Chicago, while being sought by the police, and an extremist group.

My current version of this movie quote is:

Jake: I’ve just been radiated and chemo’d. It’s five more days until the treatment is over. I have a couple small bags of Haribo gummi bears, a full jug of water, no idea what I am facing and am covered by a fluffy duvet.
Jake (speaking to myself): Hit it!

Okay. Maybe not as memorable, but to me it has the same feeling. And in my case the ultimate goal is NED – No Evidence of Disease.

To get there I need to get through the next five days of treatment with IL-2 in the form Aldesleukin. From what everybody has said, intensive IL-2, which will start to be administered few hours after my TIL cells are administered tomorrow in order to super-charge the TIL cells and help them achieve their cancer-killing task. (But, as a caution, it will not be clear for at least a month how effective they were, and may take many months to verify total shrinkage and disappearance.)

After the first administration of IL-2 I will continue to receive 15-minute infusions via IV every eight hours until my body just cannot handle it anymore (based on physiological responses related to breathing, organ function, and also on mental function). There are a maximum of 14 doses of IL-2 that will be administered, but my nurse has never heard of anyone that has even gotten close. IL-2 comes with fevers, chills, rigor (shaking during chills), and all sorts of other pretty scary things – more details in the fine print available here.

Whenever it is that my IL-2 treatment ends, I will be a bloated wreck for a bit (an IL-2 side effect is the release of stored water in the body being pulled out of its regular places, resulting in a 20-30 pound “bloat” – and yes, I will have someone take pictures of Puff Daddy Jake :-) ). But I’m betting on being a bloated Jake on his way to NED.

And, speaking of photos – I know I have been remiss in providing images with posts lately, so below are several images to captured over the last week:

Linda and the kids move in to my hospital room to keep me company. Here everyone was getting their wifi connections working. Honestly, they really do pay me a lot of attention when I'm not sleeping

Linda and the kids in to my hospital room to keep me company. Here everyone was getting their wifi connections working. Honestly, they really do pay me a lot of attention when I'm not sleeping. We play games, watch movies, talk, and even torture the kids with doing their more traditional forms of schoolwork.

My IV tree the night they were administrating my first dose of Cytoxan to kill my current immune system. Festive!

My IV tree the night they were administrating my first dose of Cytoxan to kill my current immune system. Festive!

 

Cyclophosphomide a.k.a. Cytoxan, close up.

Cyclophosphomide a.k.a. Cytoxan, close up.

Linda and the kids enjoying a take out meal which I got to try part of with doctors' permission. I managed two wings and two fries before I was full.

Linda and the kids enjoying a take out meal which I got to try part of with doctors' permission. I managed two wings, a small chunk of dark meat, and two fries before I was full.

 

Here I am in my hospital room working on this blog post about Day -1, after finishing my final radiation treatment. That's Renaissance Bear next to me.

Here I am in my hospital room working on this blog post about Day -1, after finishing my final radiation treatment. That's Renaissance Bear next to me.

 

 

Day -2 – About Halfway There   October 4th, 2011

One year ago yesterday, Linda and I were in Roses, Spain, having the best meal experience of our lives under the personal care of Chef Ferran Adria and his now closed (but still worshiped) el Bulli Restaurant.

It was a lunch event like none other, involving over 35 course, meeting four new foodie-friends-for-life, and it took a mere seven and a half hours (and ended early only because our prescheduled taxi service was getting impatient). And the wine pairings were out of the world – perfect when sipped with a bite of the paired food. Though, Ali (one of our new friends) and I did more than sip our way through a fabulous Alvaros Palacios 2004 Priorat.

As I sit here tonight at the National Cancer Institute in Bethesda, Maryland, working my way through dinner – consisting of peanut butter, jelly, and cream cheese in a low carb tortilla, and needing frequent enough sips of water moisten each bite enough to prevent me from choking on the dryness (since I have virtually no useful salivia production left at the moment), I can’t help but wonder at what a bizarre but still amazing year it’s been. Those of you who know me know I enjoy exploring cuisine and culture – from eating guinea pig in a hole in the wall in Quito, Ecuador, and street food in Fiji and Kowloon, to enjoying the cuisine of top chefs in New York, Hong Kong, and Boston. And yes, even enjoying fried butter at the state fair.

I see my salivary problems (and I have been told that those will be accompanied by loss or change of taste) will last for some time (in addition to the three months of neutropenia). But in adversity, there’s challenge, and being a devout experimenter in the kitchen, I am sure I can come up with some foods that will overcome my limitations and provide both enjoyment and education, once I’m physically able to spend time concocting. The time spent recuperating will also give me a chance to figure out how I might want to change my approach to cuisine (which in the past was to treat it as a visual as well as olfactory art form) in use in the fine art food photography I had started work on last year.

I lead in with the above as a sort of precursor that I’m doing about the same as last night and don’t have much more to say.

I am now totally neutropenic – with nary any neutrophils left to count in my blood. Other symptoms from yesterday persist: Dry mouth, swollen jaw, slight tiredness, and – how to politely put this – intestines that are a bit more aqueous than they should be. But all those are under control.

Considering I just went through another two rounds of total body irradiation (TBI) today, that’s not bad at all. No sirree. I’ve been informed that I’m not the first to have charged through the first six days into the treatment so well, and that folks here remember two other prior patients similarly bypassing the most common and debilitating side effects. The usual trend tends appears to be towards a lot more unwellness early on and then staying that way for the course of treatment and beyond.

So please cross fingers and knock on wood for me some more that I can buck the side effect trends further after tomorrow’s final two doses of radiation. The side-effects induced by those two final treatments will not immediately appear, and might take a few days to manifest. Again, all I can do is wait and see what happen, and hope for the best combination of events (and ask the same of you).

For a recap, Day -1 (tomorrow) is the last day of radiation. Day 0 is, well, THE DAY. It’s when I get my billions of TIL cells injected into my system. I have a carefully thought out music playlist created (with some help from my friends) that I will play to help encourage them to hunt and kill all those nasty growing melanoma cells in my body. I hope to publish that on Thursday before I start IL-2 later in the day, as I understand that once IL-2 starts I won’t be in shape to do much of anything at all for five days.

To N.E.D.!

P.S. Any plans to give blood yet? If not, please think about it.

 

Day -4 – Gone Neutropenic…   October 2nd, 2011

The duvet Linda mentioned in the previous post, combined with being untethered (no IV), and an Ambien, led to almost 12 hours of sleep, with just a few interruptions. I went to sleep just past 9pm last night, and woke up just past 9am. I did have a fever during the night, but Tylenol helped bring that under control for a while.

This morning when I woke up I had a fever again, and also learned that I had met the requirements for neutropenia – meaning a neutrophil count of less than 500 (based on a white blood cell count of 630).

My nurse calls me an over achiever. First I pee up a storm, and now I’ve gone neutropenic at least a couple of days ahead of schedule.

Because of the fever which is coming and going while neutropenic I’ve been put on a broad spectrum anti-biotic (since I have very little of my immune system left), as well as all sorts of other drugs designed to prevent fungal infections, cold sores, acid reflux, and all sorts of other things. I’ve been told that by the time I finish my treatment in eight days, I will have had more different prescription drugs during the treatment than I have had the entire part of my life until now (since I have no normal prescriptions otherwise).

I was light headed this morning, but figured at least part of that was due to lack of much food yesterday, so I’ve slowly been working to eat a bit more today, and it has helped.

At present, I am sitting in bed (hospital beds are pretty cool with all the different angles they support, but I wish they were a wee bit wider), taking in one of my first two units of blood for the day. Having such a blood transfusion is necessary because my hemoglobin (red blood cell related) counts are way down. I will likely have these blood transfusions every day or so while I’m neutropenic.

And that brings to mind something else. A lot of people have been asking Linda and myself what they could do for us and to let us know if we need anything. Many of you know that we are difficult people to help (and buy presents for) because if we need something we just go out and get it or take care of it pronto ourselves. And with the uncertainty of what my symptoms will be post-treatment (e.g. nausea, fatigue, loss of appetite), we can’t really plan ahead very well either. And it doesn’t help that I will be limited to a neutropenic diet, which means we can’t accept food gifts for three months, however much we’d want to.

But a practical thing that most of you can do for us, for yourselves, and for cancer patients around the world, is give blood and platelets. When I had my platelet infusion last week, for example, I received six units of platelets, given here at NIH the day prior by six different people. And the dozen and a half, or so, units of O-negative blood I am going to be receiving as part of my transfusion also come from individual donors (although not the day before, like platelets). In fact, Linda will be donating platelets tomorrow (you can normally only give blood or platelets every eight weeks, and Linda last gave blood exactly eight weeks ago at Mass General). Thank you Linda and Mona for this excellent suggestion!

Today’s course of treatment continues with my fourth dose of fludarabine tonight, and early tomorrow morning I get my first of six doses of full body radiation – two doses a day for three days. Unclear how I will be feeling after those. However, what is pretty clear is that my immune system will be down to zero in time for my TIL cell administration on Thursday, and that is awesome. Don’t want anything getting in the way of my melanoma fighting cells!

 

Day -6 Towards TIL For My Melanoma   September 30th, 2011

Day -6 Towards TIL

I guess no one made clear to me that I was supposed to be suffering from nausea the morning after my first dose of Cytoxan. When I greeted the doctors on rounds this morning all cheery and upbeat they wondered if it had been administered. Apparently my lack of nausea is something of an anomaly – I prefer to think of it as me being special.

The last 24 hours have been spent peeing and peeing and peeing. I think I’m pretty close to 12 liters of urine output at this point, and I still have another 23.5 hours to go of urine madness. I am required to pee into a “urinal” (not the men’s room kind) – it’s a plastic jug with a handle, and it’s got measures on the side so that the nurses can verify I am meeting my minimum quota of 312 mL per two hour measurement period. I have far exceeded that. In fact, one of my nurses has commented that if I were one of the X-Men super heroes, I would undoubtedly be known as “The Urinator”. Beware his toxic yellow streams!

The issue with peeing this frequently (at times every 15 minutes due to the application of a drug called Lasix (also known as Furosemide) is that you don’t get much sleep, so my biggest side effect from the first 24 hours of my condensed chemotherapy is being really tired. I also had a headache and a small fever which both seem to have gone away after the application of Tylenol.

Linda and the kids kept me company for most of the day, which was very comforting.

As I write this, I’m getting my second dose of Cytoxan. I’m knocking on wood and hoping that nausea and diarrhea don’t follow since I’ve avoided them so far.

I’ve managed to catch a half hour of sleep here and there and that’s helped. Knowing I only have another 23.5 hours of pee madness ahead of me provides me a goal to work towards. And tomorrow night I get untethered from my IV after my dose of Fludarabine, so I can have a night of unencumbered sleep.

 

Chemotherapy Starts Tomorrow   September 28th, 2011

Today ended up being a quiet day that I managed to spend almost entirely with Linda and my children. Due to the on-going growth of my tumors in at least my right thigh (I have several that are now palpable (feelable), but were not two weeks ago), I was scheduled for a new CT scan to provide a better reference point for the post-treatment CT scan.

I’m pleased by the idea of getting a reference scan right before treatment because it will show more clearly how much tumor shrinkage has occurred due to treatment when compared to my first post-treatment scan in month and a half or so. If the scan from two weeks ago were to be used for this comparison, the tumor shrinkage amount would be skewed by the intervening new growth, and I would have to wait for the second post-treatment scan for more accurate results.

Anyhow, they ended up not having an available slot for a scan today, so I’ll be doing that early tomorrow morning instead, hence some extra hours with the family, in which we ran some necessary errands and enjoyed a nice meal out together – the last one for quite some weeks.

My treatment schedule in chart form - Day -7 is Thursday, Sept. 29, 2011

My treatment schedule in chart form - Day -7 is Thursday, Sept. 29, 2011

Tonight at 1am I start getting hydrated by IV in preparation for the start of my chemotherapy tomorrow.

During the day tomorrow I will receive my first of two doses of Cyclophosphamide (Cytoxan), a toxic chemical designed to  stop cell growth. It is toxic enough, I understand, that the nurses who bring in the one hour IV drip bag do so in a haz-mat suit to avoid exposure (since they have to administer the drug frequently). I hope to remember to take a picture of that.

I will get a second dose of Cytoxan on Friday. I will also start a five day course of Fludarabine tomorrow.

During the first three days of the chemotherapy I will be required to urinate (pee, piddle, wee wee, wizz, tinkle, etc.) every two hours, around the clock, in order to prevent Cytoxan-tainted urine from sitting in my bladder for long periods of time and causing bladder damage, and will also receive Mesna, a medicine intended to prevent the bladder from being irritated by such frequent use.

I understand, in addition to the other side effects from the drug (including major nausea), that being constantly woken up and urged to pee is one of the most exhausting parts of the treatment (the other being the IL-2 which comes at the end). Fortunately, I’m a peeing machine, so I should be up to the challenge. I should add that I will be heavily hydrated to ensure there’s enough liquid in my body to produce results every two hours.

I am guessing, based on what I’ve heard and read (and related above), Linda will be posting updates here instead of me until I’ve been off the Cytoxan for at least a couple of days.

Most patients appear to better deal with the Fludarabine which continues to be given for three days after the Cytoxan.

We’ll see.

 

Tuesday: Starting with a restless and mostly sleepless night, I arrived in Bethesda around the middle of the day, and checked in my room in the 3NW immunotherapy wing of the Hatfield Building, greeting all the fabulous nurses I have come to know from my prior stay. After unpacking, I had a chest X-Ray, an EKG, and blood work done. All look good!

My platelets, which had dropped to a level of 30 last week were up to a healthy 130, which resulted in a high five with the doctor as we celebrated, albeit breifly, that my blood counts were good enough to allow for the protocol to proceed unimpeded.

Linda and kids were here by late afternoon and settled into the adjacent Safra Lodge, which is quite a nice place. The Lodge is on the NIH campus, same as NCI, and has great facilities for families whose loved ones are being treated only a few hundred yards away. The rooms themselves are like regular hotel rooms, but there’s a huge shared kitchen area for the storage of food, cooking supplies, and leftovers, and there are a number of nooks which provide quiet space for stressed out family members, and in our case places our kids can work on school stuff.

Best of all, the Lodge is free – which is important in an area where the average hotel room night tends to run around $250/night. As one might imagine, the Lodge is quite heavily booked – up to two weeks in advance, so Linda and the kids will need to move to a regular hotel on October 2nd for four nights before moving back to the Lodge, unless those dates happen to free up for them. They are back until at least October 20th, my projected departure date.

I had expected Wednesday to be the start of chemotherapy, but that appears to be actually Thursday.

Instead, Wednesday provides a buffer day in case there’s a need for additional scans or labs, which will be determined after rounds in the morning.

We will have more details on the actual treatment process later today, probably.

Also, Linda has been set up with an account on this blog, and may post in my stead should I be feeling unwell enough to post on my own.

 

If you have a short attention span, here’s the big news: My Tumor Infiltrating Lymphocyte (TIL) with Total Body Irradiation (TBI) treatment starts next week, on Tuesday, September 27th.

The long version, including historical information, follows below.

My week at the National Cancer Institute (NCI) has gone quickly, but not without some complications.

On Wednesday, I got my scheduled stem cell apheresis, this time through my newly installed Hickman catheter. It was wonderful to not have to get stabbed again with needles for this process, especially as the bruising I incurred last week for the feeder apheresis are in full bloom with all sorts of color.

But the stem cell apheresis on Wednesday was pretty tiring too. As I later found out, part of this was because the process caused my magnesium, potassium, and platelet counts to drop significantly. Contributing to this was that this apheresis also required that 30 liters of my blood (about five time the blood supply in my entire body) to be fed through the centrifuge over a six hour period.

I spent the rest of the day resting and dealing with a related headache, under the assumption that all had gone well with the stem cell apheresis. However, at midnight, deep into Ambien-assisted slumber, I got woken up and was informed that they did not manage to collect enough stem cells (the minimum required by the protocol is 4 million, but 5 million is more ideal), and that I would need to go through the process again on Thursday morning. No further details were available, but I was given another pair of Filgrastim shots, and put on an IV with potassium chloride to help boost my electrolytes (and potassium levels).

So, yesterday morning I found myself in the apheresis center again, for another 30 liters of blood processing. Turns out that the first day produced 2.6 million stem cells, so not a complete failure. Fortunately, yesterday’s collection produced another 2.04 million stem cells, for a total of 4.64 million cells, sufficient not to require additional vampiration (and delay treatment). Because of the unexpected second day of apheresis, I also had to rearrange appointments with doctors from radiation oncology and from the dental clinic. In each case the doctors advised me on the side effects of the radiation treatment (which are potentially significant). But other then sterility and an increased chance of early cataracts, only these effects are generally transient (but could last for many miserable months).

I fortunately had also learned first hand about this from a couple where the husband had finished treatment about two months ago – they learned about be from Melanoma Mom Jamie’s blog, and were wonderful enough to look me up at NCI to see if they could help with any questions I had about the process. Thank you so much Pam and Joe!
In any case, the anecdotal evidence suggests that the aftermath of TBI is well worth it in terms of increased probability of response to the treatment. The amount of response benefit is actually what this clinical trial is designed to help define.

Yesterday, I was also told that I had excellent teeth and dental health. I think that was the high point of my day. The day ended with more potassium infusions, and six units of platelets, both of which helped my blood counts creep towards normality.

I wrapped up my stay this morning with a simulation scan to prepare for my full body radiation treatment (which goes on twice a day for three days, starting October 3rd).

The end result was that I now have a bunch of lines on me, drawn with a permanent marker (fortunately not really permanent), with the critical markings covered by waterproof tape. The lines will be used to align my body with respect to the photonic radiation emission equipment. By the time I’m done with the three days of radiation, my body will have absorbed 12 Grays of radiation, and my lungs only 6 Grays. The Gray is a unit of measure that relates to “rads”. It is a significant dose for full body exposure, but small compared to localized radiation.

As I already indicated in the abbreviated version of this blog above, I learned that I have been scheduled to return to Bethesda on Tuesday, September 27th – so a mere four days from now. The first day will be spent getting me all set up, and I start my five day course of chemotherapy on the next day, followed immediately by the three days of radiation.

Again, the whole purpose of these two components of the overall treatment is to kill my immune system as well as the cell generation in my bone marrow. The idea is that the resulting environment (no immune system) gives the TIL the best possible chance to do its thing – namely kill all those nasty melanoma cancer cells that are still intent on spreading throughout my body, without interference from my own normal immune system.

After the TIL cells are administered, the stem cells will be administered, then I get the mind numbing IL-2 treatment to boost the power of my TIL and stem cells, and then there’s recovery…

I will stay at NCI until it is deemed safe for me to be exposed to much of the world, namely when my immune system has recovered enough to ensure that I will no longer be in danger of infection from the most minor germ. Right now, my return date to Boston, as a bald, easily nauseated, and very tired person, is scheduled to be October 20th, but that date is subject to change based on my recovery, and the on-going entropy that is part of my life these days.

I want to extend a very special thanks to Jamie and Jeff for letting me be part of their nightly take-out dinners during my stay at NCI. Thank you both for your friendship and hospitality.

The few days I have in Boston (I am en route now) are going to be spent with family. In fact, my parents flew in from the Czech Republic yesterday – the original plan being that we’d be spending a couple weeks together. However, the melanoma train stops for no one, so we’re down to only a few days together. But that’s okay, because my train’s destination is NED – No Evidence of Disease. And a pig roast at our house in Bonaire in the spring!

Note: I want to mention to those folks who have been depending on e-mails from me for notification of new blog entries, I will no longer be sending out those e-mails during treatment. And I will not be posting notification on Facebook or Google+ either. My upcoming posts, throughout treatment, if I can manage them, will be a lot more succinct than my usual posts, and to see them you will have to remember to check back here at http://www.jakestake.tv every so often to see what’s new.