LiveSTRONG With A Taste of Yellow - Saturday Oct 2, 2010

Matt trying to appear normal, post chemo session

A coworker of mine went to the emergency room a few months back with horrendous pain - turned out the pain came from a broken rib he didn't realize he had. This broken rib seemed to come from out of the blue (though it really came out of his ribcage). While in the hospital doctors found a mass in Matt's lung opposite the side of his broken rib. When we heard the news we were all perplexed, stunned, devastated. Matt was diagnosed with  stage 4 metastatic melanoma. He's 43 years old. He has two young kids and a lovely, talented wife, Julie. 


Matt lives in the central valley. He's a solid family guy (or so he seems probably a big act to throw me off). He loves to ride his bike and (as far as I am aware) has ridden a bike ride for charity at least three times, a total of nearly 1000 miles from southern to northern California) to help World Vision, an organization that provides relief aide to other countries. The money raised on those rides went towards children in Africa who had been orphaned by the AIDS virus. Go Matt!  Matt's a typical mid-life kinda guy. Work, church, family. I never gave him much thought because I was so busy doing nothing. Meh. My sister's the nice one. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Matt just finished the fourth of six total, week-long chemo sessions known as biochemotherapy. He has to undergo these week long sessions of bio-chemotherapy while in intensive care. He has a resting two week period in-between each session. The bio-chemo includes 5 different drugs - Interleukin-2 (or IL2), Interferon, Cisplatin, Velban, and Temodar. While in the hospital, Matt receives a dose of each of the chemo meds every night around 6 p.m.  Except for the IL2 which runs 24 hours for 5 days.  After 6 treatments of chemo, Matt will go on a "maintenance dose" of just the IL2 once a month for 48 hours in the hospital for one full year. 

Matt walking with his kids after one of his big rides

The reason I'm writing about Matt is because ever since I found out about his cancer diagnosis, my heart has grown bigger (not from heart disease either, smartiepants) for Matt and his family. The tears come more easily when I think of what this family must endure. My heart breaks though the oncologist told them after the last PET scan that the tumors had shrunk 50%. This is great news! Matt sent my sister (aka the nice one) a txt msg that said "The doctor says we are winning this one!" I cried again.


Because I had cancer and think I'm an expert on many things, I told Matt about my personal selection for a cancer cure - those tiny ice cream Dove Bars and he went out and bought some. From work we sent him boxes of See's candy to see if they would help cure, and then just a few weeks ago, I sent him a box of candy boogers because I figured he hadn't tried those yet and candy boogers might be a miracle cure. Matt thanked me for the boogers and said, "Great, now my kids want to eat my boogers." The way I see it, we don't know what will cure cancer though we can try creative ways and we need to remain open to the possibilities. Plus I don't know why the doctor is claiming a 50% reduction in tumors from his treatment with chemo when it could just as easily be the mix of Dove bars, candy boogers and See's candy.

I think about Matt nearly every day. I think about his kids, his wife and this suffering they must go through. And I am annoyed because I'd rather think about anything else but cancer and someone  who is suffering. There is so much suffering and their suffering somehow becomes my suffering and my heart breaks and I weep for all the suffering. I used to be able to eat when I was sad. Dammit. 


I made lemon poppyseed muffins for LiveSTRONG with a Taste of Yellow, (a recipe I found on Joy the Baker, adapted from the book Baking).  Because I had gastric bypass surgery this past June, and have lost a buttload, muffinload boatload of pounds since surgery, I can't eat too many muffins. So I'll be sending my muffins (no weird innuendo intended) to Matt in the central valley as another contribution to his cure. These muffins are certain to taste far better than a box of  boogers. You never know if lemon poppyseed muffins combined with candy boogers, much like a combo of chemo drugs, will kill a pesty cancer cell. I'm betting that my cooking may well be one of the missing links.


Photos of Matt used with permission from Lodi Design House.