It’s Monday morning, and I’m writing this from the hotel room while my lovely wife sleeps a few feet away - trying to type quietly here. We got to Houston late Saturday night (better deal on flights that way), which put us in prime position to go check out the Houston Marathon on Sunday morning.
When we left Dr. Chien last week, I told her I’d be tracking her on the app from afar, but we did one better and showed up on the course! We saw her at about 25.5 as she was nearing the finish - weren’t exactly sure how we’d find her as we’ve only seen her wearing a hospital mask - but the app gave us her bib # and the crowd was pretty sparse at that point. She recognized us, and I’m looking forward to chatting with her about the race during my appointment later today.
After the marathon, Becky and I got back on the train to head to “Rice Village” which is the college town (Rice University) right next to the Texas Medical Center where MD Anderson is located. Becky was interested in getting nails done, etc., and I shopped around for sporting events I might be able to attend. Turns out, Rice was tipping off against Charlotte as soon as we got to Rice Village, so I jumped online and got a courtside ticket for $20. Great game (Rice lost by one) and a fun experience.
Anyway. Today’s appointment starts at 1:30pm and, from what I understand, it’s going to be a review of all my tests/scans from last week (they are who we thought they were!), an explanation of the drugs I’m starting tomorrow (I have a pretty good idea of what they do), and a short trip to pick up a prescription (two floors up) for a BTK inhibitor called pirtobrutinib (more on this later). Then, it sounds like they’ll admit me into the hospital for the night (where I’ll watch the Houston Texans playoff game), then start destroying cancer tomorrow morning.
Since I was diagnosed with cancer in October 2024, I have repeatedly told the disease (often out loud and laced with expletives) that it has chosen the wrong body to invade. I’m too smart, too fit, too optimistic, too resourceful, and too resilient. It picked the wrong guy or, to quote the really old guy from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, “he chose poorly.”
For those unfamiliar with that movie (you’re missing out), Indiana Jones is trying to find the Holy Grail, and there’s this Nazi dude who keeps following him. The Nazi has to choose which of the dozens of cups is the actual grail, thinks he knows for sure which one it is, picks the wrong one, and dies gruesomely. Here’s the scene:
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