Mets Day 1142 Eighth Opdivo infusion

Mets Day 1142 Eighth Opdivo infusion

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I returned home from Utah late on Tuesday (in reality early Wednesday morning) so I could get my eighth round of nivolumab. There are no clinical trial places for my trial in Utah or anywhere else within a thousand miles, or perhaps if there was, it is apparently almost impossible to drop in at an alternative location and get the experimental drug. So yesterday I went in for lab work, and this morning Jennifer and I braved the Washington beltway and I 95 to Baltimore, regardless of the conspiracy of the site visitors gods to slow our way (semi overturned on the inner loop; two accidents between DC and Charm City, and the like.).
I discussed with Dr. Hahn the fact that none of the abstracts for this week's ASCO meeting (the American Society for Clinical Oncologists, starting tomorrow in Chicago) discussed nivolumab and metastatic bladder melanoma. Nivolumab was discussed in relation to other cancers in 74 other papers, then again it, as was other immunotherapy agents, such as MPDL3280A. Dr. Hahn was familiar with the literature, as he was on an ASCO panel that would summarize the newest science regarding immunotherapy as a weapon against melanoma. He said that he would have several discussions with his colleagues and representatives from Bristol-Myers Squibb about nivolumab and mets BC, and would bring back any news regarding sturdiness.

I also asked Dr. Hahn about the confounding disparity between the different interpretations of my CT scans. He said that he had individually measured my tumors in my final scan, and had when put next them to the prior scans. He said that his measurements were in between the dimensions recorded by the radiologists. He shrugged it off, noting that adaptations of a couple of millimeters were now not a huge deal. The important thing, he said, was that every one agreed that my tumors were substantially smaller than they were in the prior scans.

He asked if I had noticed any side effects. Other than the left side of my neck being a little sore (which likely is from a bad evening's sleep), there continues to be nothing of note. All of my labs were good – the nurse assisting with my infusion said that they were enhanced than his. While I was getting my infusion, a massage therapist came by and offered a neck and shoulder massage, which Jennifer happily accepted. The massage therapist explained that a grateful circle of relatives had considered necessary to create a fashion to aid ease the anxiety in the chemo infusion region, and worked with Johns Hopkins to fund a roving masseuse.

After I was infused with my meds, Jennifer dropped me off at BWI so I could fly back to Utah and spend more time with my most up-to-date granddaughter, as well as Rose, Josh, and Chelsea. I'll be there through June 9, then will go back home for round nine. Kirsten will fly to Utah after I leave, and she or he will be followed by Jennifer. I guess I can now not keep Lily all to myself.

While in Utah, I made a couple of visits to the LDS Family History Library, to see if I could vacation through some barriers in getting to grasp the genealogy of my father's ancestors. He had been orphaned at a young age, and had somewhat little information about his parents or their families. I met with success, and was able to trace my dad's line back for several generations. I was able to doc that my paternal grandfather was married four times (at ages 21, 25, 28, and 43, the final being to my grandmother). So far, I have now not uncovered evidence that he sired every other toddlers. He died in 1935, at age 50.

My paternal distinct-grandfather, by contrast, was a prominent citizen of Vancouver, British Columbia, being a barrister, member of the provincial assembly (including a stint as speaker), developed the primary Vancouver skyscraper in 1915, and has a mountain and glacier named after him. While he was serving in the legislature and rallying his fellow citizens all through Great War, his oldest son (my grandfather) renounced his Canadian citizenship and was naturalized a US citizen.

My paternal grandmother had one son by her first husband, in 1918. She and my grandfather married in 1927, and my father was born in 1930. He was her second child. She died when he was eight. Her father was a civil engineer, born in Prussia in 1847, emigrated to the US in the 1880s, and married my distinct-grandmother in Colorado in 1889. My grandmother was born in 1891. Her mother was born in Bath, England, in 1860, the oldest child of a fishmonger and merchant. My distinct-grandfather's circle of relatives had satisfactory means to employ a couple of servants across the turn of the century, and take several trips back to England. At times, my distinct-grandfather prefixed his surname with "von", the Prussian appellation of nobility, even though I can find no foundation for that assertion.

These all are facts that I have teased out of documents I've discovered in the past couple of weeks. To look at documents more than 100 years old – census records, passenger manifests, oaths of marriage and citizenship – and glean the dry bones of those long dead. What recollections has to be behind those records! The wrenching decision to leave their home countries and come to America, the want to cleave from the past, to reinvent oneself: I am descended of recent immigrants, seekers of fortune, an advanced life.

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