Ifosfamide

Little things.  A couple of chlorines off a carbon chain interlinked with a phosphate, little amide thrown in for good measure, and there you have it.  I'm hooked... back into biochem like a fly to a blinking yellow lantern hanging from the rooftop on a hot summer night.

Why does it work, I was asked?  While the person knew I was not a doctor, and have not even taken the MCAT yet (key word there), it hooked me in again.  My biochem prof often talked about Wiki becoming a better source of basic information.  He talked about a lot of things that I remember if pushed... even RNA transcription ... okay, if he reads here, he'll understand the joke.

I digress.

My brain slowly chugged into motion trying to remember all the biochem I learned last semester.  Something about certain pharmaceuticals mimic the chemical a disease or virus or bacteria needs to continue replication... "thing" thinks it is eating a good thing, or using the DNA from the good thing, and then 'WHAM' - too late.  It dies.

Or something about a compound attaching itself to the just right place to stop a reaction from occurring (non-competitive inhibitor is what blared in my head).  Yeah, that sounds like it might be the case as well.  If the reaction cannot continue because the shape of the molecule can't change with the non-competitive inhibitor taking up the space, 'WHAM' - game over for the disease or virus or bacteria.

WHAM, I was back in biochem again.  And phys.  Talking about the lumen in the intestines and why channels have to be working for nutrients to cross and explaining what I sort of remembered from my classes.  And why it is important to have the nutrients and elements in the body to assist with the transport across the lumen, and into the blood stream and... I was on fire.

And telling the person to make sure to ask their doctors for clarification; gently reminding them that I am not a doctor, not in med school, have no med school experience, and the best place to get the truth is from the treating physician; not from a former wee premed who might (or might not) be starting med school soon.

More questions came - will the cancer patient survive?

Anyone who knows me know I can talk (and will!!!).  With that question though, I paused to make sure whatever I said next was exactly right.  I could feel the person wanting/needing me to say, "Of course!"  What came out was not that.

"I don't know.  What I do know is that the only one who can, and should, give you a prognosis is the treating physician.  You are in excellent hands.  The cancer center here is nationally renown and you need to trust that they are doing everything they can to help your spouse beat this."

I know there was disappointment on the receiving end of that message but it was the damn truth.  It is not my place to conjecture, to conjure, to wonder, to talk through my thoughts when it comes to a life and a prognosis with statistics.

What I did do was look up the stats, and seeing the stats were pretty dang awesome, I sent the links to WebMD, Mayo, and NIH.  I also looked up YouTube videos for the medications and sent those as well.  Had the stats been mediocre or worse, I'd have "forgotten" all about it.

I do not know if that would be crossing the line for a premed or med student or non-treating physician.  What I do know is that my own story of my brother's similar diagnosis 12 years ago, his very lively living now, and my gentle suggestion to ask the physicians about Boost - raised the spouse's spirits.

And mine.  I love being able to take very technical information and decipher it into layman's terms; I love the hard sciences; I loved all my premed courses, including ochem.

Of course, having to churn out biochem again only started another issue within myself.

What in the hell do I do about my MCAT?!?!  And worse, applying.

These types of conversations stoke the passion, give me the drive; I'm sitting on the doorstep of app cycle 2013 and I just can't seem to take my foot over the line.

Anyone got a big boot??? :D

Make it a great weekend, be warm.

Ad2b

For Don

I've been thinking about him a lot lately.  He was truly never far from my thoughts; guess that comes when his son is my son.  And every time my eyes water up, and every time they did for 7 years, he would sing this song to me.

Seems appropriate today.  Dust in the eye so to speak when the reality of it all sets in:



I can hear him saying to me some weeks ago, "Don't go getting all weepy eyed on me."

Okay, Don, I won't... :)

Kirkland Home - Citrus Park

Many heartfelt thanks from Garret and I for making our Christmas a little brighter, a little cheerier, and a little more festive.  What you did for us goes beyond simple.  Thank you so very, very much!

Merry Christmas to you and your families!!  May your own seasons grow bright with joy and happiness and great cheer as you ring in the new year.

Extended Blessings,

PJ (adoc2be) and Garret

Other Stories

Early on, my son's sleeping schedule was completely off kilter.  Asleep all day, awake all night and hungry all the time (hmmm.... some things NEVER change!!!).  My maternity leave had started early because:

1)  I was starting to have labor pains (not BH)

2)  I was grumpy

3)  I was too big to drive

4)  I was grumpy

On my last day going in to train my temp, I was in a car accident almost broadsided by a semi as I slid on the icy road out into the highway.  The car was totaled but I was safe (thank you Ford!).  At the hospital, I was told the accident would either speed up the arrival of my cargo or delay.

Sadly, for me, it delayed and I continued to get bigger.  The estimated size of my unborn son was 10#.  He arrived at 10# 12 oz, 24-1/2 inches long.  Don was there the entire time, never leaving my side (the labor and delivery lasted about 1.5 hours).  When my son was born, and in Don's excitement, he yelled, "OMGAWD!!! He's a keeper!!!"  (fish language for "we're not tossing him back).

Don went back to work that day and came to visit.  When I went back to work three weeks later, Don switched up his schedule for my son was too little for daycare.  Don and I worked opposite schedules so that he or I was home to take care of the Gman.

One day, I got home early and found him asleep on the couch with the newborn; another day, I came home with Don smiling broadly saying, "Look what I get him to do!!"  as his slowly and carefully did the 'washing machine' with the Gman on his lap.  Gman would slowly fall asleep, only waking if Don stopped.

It would be unfair and unkind if the only image anyone saw was the image of a gravely ill father and ex-fiance.  So, below, is the only picture I can find of the father in his healthier days with his young son at the other grandmother's house... 

Family Picture

It was the only one taken over the span of 20 years.  In the end, a mother, father and their son...

Don was unable to move much, the pole above his head given by hospice so he could be less reliant on others.  The morphine syringes in the coffee cup and dire reminder that his time on earth was quickly coming to an end.

True to himself, he still smoked (something he'd picked up long after I'd left him) and unbeknownst to others, his "medicinal pharmaceutical" was tucked away in the Marlboro box.  I did not care any more.  Anything that provided relief from his pain and suffering got a +1,000,000.... from me.

When talking with him, I saw the glimmer of mischievousness in his sparkling blue eyes.  When he talked about one of our misadventures, I saw the shininess of happiness in his smile.  For a few moments, he was just with his son, and the mother that bore him.  Peace had come.  Peace has finally come for him.

We here on earth, still entangled in complicated emotions.