Braunstein Speaks

Hooray for Me!

I began a series of tests today to see if I am in good enough shape for the “surgical option” should the need arise.

Today’s test was an echocardiogram, a form of an ultrasound examination of my heart. I am happy to report that it is still beating, and apparently with sufficient efficiency to allow me to walk around (so to speak) without the need for oxygen. One of my valves was a little calcified, but after all, I am 65 years old.

Tomorrow is another CT scan, something I have several times a year to see if my cancer has moved up from my leg. (The long-term prognosis for Merkel Cell is that, sooner or later, it shows up elsewhere, but then again, there are few histories to reliably project this rare disease’s future path.)

If I show up clean tomorrow, Thursday I am off for a consultation with an orthopedic oncologist to learn whether there is a practical surgical solution to my problem.

Yes, boys and girls, orthopedic surgeons work with saws, but before anybody gets me fitted for a wooden leg—I prefer whalebone, like Captain Ahab in Moby Dick—there may be other directions under consideration.

The bottom line is quality of life. Yes, it was sad to give up my career as a South Beach leg model (when I had my initial surgery in July of 2007) but now I can audition for “don’t let this happen to you” commercials!

If surgery—for whatever reason—is not an option, there are still plenty of chemicals for me to try. Perhaps the answer lies in the cocktail I had a few years ago to treat my lymphoma, as while I was on that chemo, no lesions appeared after the July surgery to remove the first one.

As long as the Merkel stays on my leg, it is not life threatening. Ultimately, however, the lesions on my right leg will ulcerate, and I’ll have lengthy stays in the hospital trying to graft new skin or some artificial Astroturf over the non-healing wounds.

I am not a prognosticator—except occasionally in politics—and I certainly don’t know more about cancer than the dozens of oncology professionals—including my wife—who have cared for me these past three years, come April.

In the mean time, I’m still here, so hooray for me!

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