Elvis Has Left the Building, and He's Packing

It's called Hyper-CVAD and it is bad-ass.

For the next 6-8 months it's also our new best friend and ally in this war on cancer. Hyper-CVAD is the name of Phil's chemotherapy regimen and it is literally an all-out assault on the lymphoma that has taken over his body. If you've been following my posts then you know what we're up against here. You know that we want the most powerful, state-of-the-art, nasty, down-n-dirty, pull-out-all-the-stops treatment there is. Well, folks, this is it. Hyper-CVAD. Sounds like a nuclear weapon and isn't that what you want to hear at a time like this? The big guns.

Brief intermission:

I am at the hospital and the nurse is getting things going. She just brought in a "chemo spill kit" in which she will put all the spent IV tubing, bags, etc. It is also here in case she spills something on accident. It is basically a hazardous waste kit and has all the typical markings on it you would see at a nuclear facility. She also informs us that she will be donning a special "gown" every time she infuses Phil with his chemo in case she get's any on herself. Yeah, THOSE are the drugs we want. Hyper-CVAD baby.

Basically it will go something like this. Every 3 weeks, Phil will go into the hospital for the first part of a two part regimen consisting of 4 days of IV chemotherapy with a combination of multiple powerful medications. Those medications are:

C= Cytoxin (cyclophosphamide) which alters DNA

V= Vincristine (Oncovin) which blocks cell duplication

A = Doxorubicin (Adriamycin) an antitumor antibiotic

D= Dexamethasone an anti-inflammatory steroidal, immunosuppressant

Like I said, this is just the first part. After another 3 weeks he will be admitted to the hospital again for another 3-4 days during which he will be giving high doses of methotrexate and Ara-C (cytarabine) which will complete the cycle.

As if all that weren't enough, tomorrow he will have a spinal tap to diagnose whether he has CNS (central nervous system) involvement. At that time he will be given a dose of prophylactic chemotherapy into his spinal fluid. If his test is negative he will get several more prophylactic treatments in his CSF (cerebrospinal fluid). If it comes back positive he will be treated very rigorously and will need to have a small reservoir put into his scalp to feed the medications into his ventricles directly/weekly for the rest of his treatment regimen.

If you, like us are feeling blown away by all this, join the club. The line forms to the rear. It is a lot to take in at one time. But believe you me, you WILL absorb it somehow even if just enough to move on to the next blog entry. We are still in the process of absorbing these truths for ourselves and for our children and certainly haven't yet fully felt them. But now that I am sitting here watching our cheerful and wonderfully skilled nurse Abby gown up and begin to administer these meds to my dear husband, I know there will be time for that in the days to come. Right now, it is definitely GO time.

Strange as it is to say, even though we just got word of this diagnosis 7 days ago and have barely had time to digest it, we have really been looking forward to this day. Today means we get to DO something. Today means we get to strike back. Today means we get to have a say in what happens from here on out. Passivity ends here.

Romans 8:28, 31

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us?