Uncertain health

Last summer I wrote about my rising CEA levels as I searched for the best treatment option:

Those fiendish cells

Now that I've finished another round of radiation and had some time to heal, I have another update on my CEA timeline.


My CEA fell after radiation, but not fast enough to suggest that it was heading back down to normal levels. Now it looks like it's rising again, indicating growth of tumors somewhere in my body. As usual, variability in measurements and benign conditions could also cause a rise in CEA. But it's enough to put us on closer watch for any bad guys.

My scans in December were too messy to declare anything definite. The masses in my pelvis showed elevated metabolic activity, but that could be from the radiation itself. The best news was that nothing new was showing up there. My lungs, however, showed some nodules that could become problems in the future.

Overall I'm feeling pretty good. I have a variety of nuisance symptoms including lingering bone pain, fatigue, urological misbehavior, and a fussy tummy. But I'm trying to press ahead with normal life and hoping that I can avoid or overcome any further problems.

Planning for the future is tricky with such uncertain health. As long as my body keeps running my mind must find ways to keep it fed, sheltered, and repaired. Financially, I'm faced with two choices: find a way to earn enough money to live where I have professional, social, and medical opportunities; or give up work completely and find a quiet place to retire and expire.

I am heading down the first path, committing myself to be productive and engaging in the activities that are sensible if I have a long future. But I am becoming familiar with a stress that's characteristic of chronic cancer – the knowledge that disaster could strike again any day and spoil my best laid plans.

Those fiendish cells

The protein called carcinoembryonic antigen (CEA) speaks volumes about my battles with cancer. I wrote about it twice before:

Cancer quantified (2007)
Resurgence (2008)

Today I have an update tracking the concentration of that protein in my body over the past five years.

When chemotherapy stopped holding down the cancer in late 2008, I traveled to Baltimore for a heroic surgery to remove the two big tumors and apply heated chemotherapy drugs to kill any stray cells. My surgeon was pleased that he was able to remove the tumors without too much destruction, but there was one area at the back of my pelvis where he worried that some cancer cells might still be hiding.

So our plan was to let me recover from surgery and then follow up with chemotherapy or radiation to clear out that trouble area. The big drop in CEA in January 2009 shows that the surgery was effective in reducing the tumor load and a CT scan in February looked good (for a person who has been reassembled a couple times already).

In the following months my CEA climbed back up to the limits of normal (5 nanograms per milliliter), solidly abnormal (over 10 ng/mL), and now stratospheric (633 ng/mL). Scans in May showed a tumor at the back of my pelvis eroding my tailbone and another sitting on the pubic bone in front of my bladder.

I've spent the last few weeks scurrying to figure out the current situation and choose the best plan of attack. The leading contender right now is radiation, first to the tailbone and then to the pubic bone. I'm hoping that those areas are the only ones with cancer and that the radiation will be at least as effective as it was on my pelvic mass in 2007.

There are other options to consider too: Taking the chemotherapy drug Xeloda during radiation to increase its effectiveness. Trying another chemotherapy drug like Vectibix (which is related to the drug Erbitux which brought me much suffering and little benefit). Or entering a clinical trial to try re-engineering my immune system to attack the CEA-laced cancer cells.

The rapid rise in CEA and the sudden worsening of pain is spurring me to move quickly. I was looking forward to summer travel, more time with family, and gainful employment; but those plans are postponed now. The next stage of treatment – six weeks of radiation – is scheduled to start in five days.