Renee Gentzel

I’ve been lackluster in posting updates these days. On a walk with my daughter yesterday (maybe two days ago? hard to differentiate) we spotted a beautiful bunny on a neighbors’ lawn. Like a typical rabbit, it froze when it saw us staring at it. I feel like my emotional response to the coronavirus situation has been similar – I froze everything in place, looking for the best way to respond. But there’s no best way.

I see the mental toll washing over my community – friends who own small businesses are losing sleep over the people they had to let go, some have lost jobs, and others are missing out on needed medical help because the risk is too great to go to the hospital – as told to them from their doctors. Parents are frazzled and kids are bored-stressed. People we know have been sick and have had family members die. Everyone wants this to be over, but we can’t snap our fingers or wave a magical wand to make it disappear. My husband and I keep saying how fortunate we are – and it is completely true, but it is also crazy, ’cause how bad is everything else when I literally am going through cancer and chemo?

My cancer treatments are the only time I leave my neighborhood. I had my eighth FOLFOX treatment last Thursday, at 80% of the full dose. Still fasting and icing. I went alone, wearing a mask, and a nurse took my temperature and measured my oxygen levels before I could register for my treatment. No cards are passed and no signatures taken – just verbal consent – to eliminate physical contact. Paper hearts were plastered on the glass windows this time – my guess is they were placed there to encourage the workers.

Dr. [S] stopped by, which was unusual, as we weren’t scheduled to meet. She asked how I was doing, and I told her I was happy that my CEA levels were staying at their lowest (1.7). She wants me to have a CT scan in May to check on things. She looked uncomfortable – but it had nothing to do with me. Turns out, she came to tell me that she was leaving to work for Janssen, and oversee clinical trials. I think she thought I would be upset, but honestly, I was very happy for her. I told her “Congrats”, Janssen is known for their great employee culture, and that I have colleagues who work there. I told her I was sure she would make an impact for patients by helping to develop medicines.

She looked relieved, and she said the reason she was switching was due to the need to balance work with her family. Her husband is a nephrologist, and he’s been working long hours trying to ensure that dialysis patients still get their treatment. It’s gotten to where they created separate, makeshift dialysis areas for COVID patients.

My treatment at Abington-Jefferson will be transitioned to a well-experienced colleague of hers – in fact, he trained Dr. [H] at FoxChase! He was also a part of all my previous tumor boards, so I have no worries about continuation of treatment. My neuropathy is at a minimum- some pins and needles in the morning, some overall dullness, but I have retained some feeling in fingers and toes. I hope this is as bad as it gets; it’s bearable. With the dose reduction, I haven’t experienced any other side effects, which is wonderful. We’ll see if my platelets are okay for the ninth round.

Hoping everyone enjoys the spring weather – Hannah planted some carrots, and we’ll see if they attract all the rabbits in town.