The Columbian | Serving Clark County, Washington

If you’re looking for an appreciation of life, the primary test is facing a life-threatening health condition where all aspects of living take on special meaning. I know because, after nearly six months of treatment, I am on the road toward cancer survival. In time I will know whether I am truly cancer-free. So far, so good.

My situation is not unique. Thousands of people are similarly afflicted each year. Many are disabled or die, but with the aid of modern medicine, many survive.

Although talking about myself is not a favorite pastime, I’ll endure the discomfort to praise — from personal experience — the high quality of health care in Clark County. Shortly after Labor Day 2009, I was diagnosed with bladder cancer. On Sept. 22, I underwent major surgery. The American Cancer Society estimated there would be about 70,980 new cases of bladder cancer diagnosed in the United States last year: 52,810 men and 18,170 women. It predicted about 14,330 would die. Did that happen? Probably, but I’ve not seen a final tally. Despite the increase in cases, the death rate has decreased over 20 years, and more than 500,000 are survivors in this nation.

This is the story of one.

It began with a CT body scan, which produced the bad news, confirmed by a panel of physicians. One delivered the results with skill, grace and a ray of hope sandwiched between an explanation of layers of treatment, but no guarantee of success.

My reaction was somewhere between despair and anger, with a will to fight. Of course there were deep-of- night feelings of self-pity. “Why me, Lord?” was at the top of the list.

Over the past several months, I have had eight chemotherapy treatments, six blood transfusions, suffered a mild heart attack, and been the paying guest four times (14 days total) at Southwest Washington Medical Center and Legacy Salmon Creek Medical Center. Including doctor appointments, I have had 63 contacts with the medical community in five-plus months, and uncounted blood tests. Nor does that medical tally include the visit by Vancouver firefighters (responding to my wife Marilyn’s 911 call) who stabilized me at home and carried me, unconscious, up the stairs to an ambulance after my heart attack.

Compassionate experts

Clark County physicians are at the core of my recovery. I found them skilled, coordinated and compassionate, with a touch of hard-nosed resolve necessary to overcome my bouts of stubbornness. They included Dr. Charles Plamp, primary care; Dr. Bryan Smith, urology, surgery; Dr. Gang Ye, oncology; and Dr. John Greves, cardiologist, all at the Vancouver Clinic. Others involved in a peripheral way were Dr. Charles Cannan, intervention cardiologist, Vancouver Clinic; Dr. David Lee, radiologist, Legacy Salmon Creek; and Dr. John Holland, radiologist, Oregon Health Sciences University, Portland. Nurses played a critical role, too.

The initial decision was whether to treat the cancer with chemotherapy or radiation. Chemotherapy was chosen after consultation. That involved the infusion of chemicals over periods of three to five hours. Medications used, in varied dosages,

included Gemcitabine, Aprepitant, Cisplatin, Ondansetron and Corticosteroids. They slow or kill tumor growth and control nausea.

In the process, they reduce the patient’s immunity to rock bottom, leaving him or her susceptible to any cold or disease that comes along. That meant Marilyn and I spent five months in isolation, allowing no visitors, including friends and family. It meant Marilyn handled outside contact, starting with grocery shopping, and everything else.

Phone calls, cards, letters and books, central to any patient’s morale, poured in. Many said, “I am praying for you.” Family members prepared meals and sent them, and completed outside chores. Dr. Marilyn did all the work at home, providing support and encouragement to this patient.

My hat is off to the medical providers of this community. They showed skill, knowledge and a ready desire to make the patient whole again. Let the health reform debate rage on, but take pride in our own able care-givers.

Tom Koenninger is editor emeritus of The Columbian. His column of personal opinion appears on Wednesdays. Reach him at koenninger@comcast.net.

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