Dangerous Side Effects?

I handed Harold a piece of paper during his infusion today and had him write his own post. Here it is:

Fridays are still Fridays, the day before the weekend; even if you don’t go to work every day. I’m feeling good enough now that my Fridays (and most Monday’s and Wednesday’s) start with an early morning racquetball game. Today was no different. I won a game, lost a couple of games, hit some players and got hit by other players. A typical day at the court. 

After racquetball I headed to University Hospital for infusion #3. That process is also becoming routine: First the lab work, then a checkup with my oncologist, followed by the immunotherapy infusion. During the checkup I have the opportunity to ask questions and visit with this doctor I’ve seen periodically over the last three years. We share a similar sense of humor. Knowing that, I was ready for him today.

Of all the potential side effects of immunotherapy, I’ve got one of the most harmless – a rash. It was very minor after the first infusion but has become more pronounced the last few weeks. My doctor was examining affected areas on my chest, my neck, and then my upper back. Looking just under my left shoulder blade he exclaimed, “What’s this?” He saw the outline of a circle, angry red around the edges and clear in the center.
 

“Ringworm?” I offered. He didn’t buy that, but was intrigued and examined it more closely.

Sharon, realizing what was happening and unable to let it go longer said, “Harold, tell him what you were doing this morning!” 

“Racquetball,” I blurted out. The welt was the result of a direct hit (Thanks, Joel).  It had been hard to keep from laughing during the con, but now I let it all out. My oncologist heartily joined in.

He finished the exam then asked me to wait a minute, confiding that he wanted to show a colleague the “new rash” and get a second opinion. I realized we were going to pull the con again.  We did, it worked, and we all enjoyed the comic relief from the otherwise serious business of cancer. My oncologist only lamented that he wouldn’t get to write an article for the New England Journal of Medicine describing our new side effect. Then he left me with these parting words:

 “Harold, if you die in the racquetball court after all we are  doing to save you, I’ll kill you!”

Touché