I am a 57-year-old white American male infected with Hepatitis C. I am involved in a controlled medical research study by Roche Pharmaceuticals of an experimental Polymerase Inhibitor (RO5024048 also known as RG7128) drug therapy for the virus. This document is the story of my illness and the experience of treatment. My lovely and pretty damn wonderful wife will be contributing her take on the experience as well.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

The Magic Bullet Theory

Waiting for the “Next Best Thing”


Last Tuesday was the annual Holiday Pot Luck for the twice-monthly Hepatitis C support group that meets in the California Pacific Medical Center Pathology Conference room. There were about two dozen people there and, in the tradition of potluck dinners everywhere, enough food for twice that number. Best of all, there were plenty of desserts.

Of the two dozen people or so people attending, about half were either currently in treatment or had successfully completed treatment; another quarter had undergone treatment and either failed to respond or the virus had reappeared after the completion of treatment and the last quarter had yet to make a decision about treatment. About half the folks who had successfully completed treatment and never had a recurrence of the virus were people with Hepatitis C genotype 2. This genotype has about an 80% chance of clearance, and excellent prospects of a sustained viral response, with 24 weeks of standard interferon and ribavirin treatment.

After people had settled down with their plates of food and glasses of non-alcoholic libations (ginger potions of all sorts were quite popular), everyone reported on their general state of health, how they felt and any significant issues they had that might be caused or intensified by the disease or their treatment status. Several common themes emerged as people told their stories.

The people who had successfully completed treatment reported that by and large they felt they were back to normal functioning (one individual reported that she felt that after 2 years she still did not feel she was back to her previous cognitive function level). They felt their energy had returned, they no longer had shortness of breath, their strength was back and generally they were physically in good condition. Most felt that their mental faculties and their memory had returned to pre-treatment levels as well. To a person, they reported that it took considerably longer to return to full function than the time that is considered standard by the medical establishment. The usually quoted time to recover from the effects of interferon, ribavirin and the other associated drugs used in treatment is 3 to 6 months. Everyone reported that the time it took them to recover from treatment was in the range of 6 months to 1 year with a few reporting longer times than that.

The people currently in treatment (and for that matter, the folks who had completed treatment) reported two side effects as most debilitating: fatigue and brain fog. The fatigue ranged from merely difficult to extreme with no one reporting only mild fatigue. That said, person after person stated that the most irritating and frustrating side effect was the cognitive deficit associated with interferon brain fog. It was not just the increased memory difficulties, it was the inability to concentrate, the ease of distraction, the loss of train of thought that drove everyone crazy. Most folks also reported nausea of varying degrees, insomnia, sweats etc.; but those paled in comparison to the frustration of brain fog and the annoyance of being tired all the time.

The rest of the people at the meeting, the non-responders to treatment and the people yet to attempt treatment, all had the same outlook: they were waiting for the new and better drugs to become available. They had very different reasons for this viewpoint, but it was surprising to see the uniformity of their point of view.

The non-responders and fail-to-sustainers had all failed at the standard interferon and ribavirin treatment. They and their doctors had come to the conclusion that the two drug standard treatment was not going to successfully defeat the virus in their bodies. They need the additional punch of one of the new drugs in order to have a real chance at success. You can’t argue with that conclusion, when what is available has failed, you have to await further developments to move forward.

The people who had not done any treatment had different reasons for waiting for the next new and better drugs. Many were afraid of the side effects but most were looking for a therapy with a better chance of success that the standard therapy. The standard treatment has about an 80% chance of clearing genotype 2 Hepatitis C. It has a 40-45% chance to clear genotype 1 Hepatitis C. The drug most likely to be approved next is Telaprevir, a protease inhibitor (Boceprevir, a similar protease inhibitor is supposedly not far behind). Telaprevir has demonstrated in research testing that, in combination with interferon and ribavirin, it has a genotype 1 clearance rate of about 60-65% (Boceprevir has similar test results). On the surface the reasons for waiting for the new drugs are clear-cut, 60% is a much better chance than 40%. There are a lot of other factors to consider before pinning one’s hopes on the next best thing, however.

First is the discovery of variations in the IL28B gene and how these variations affect response to treatment. If you have the CC variant of the gene, the evidence indicates that your chances of responding well to standard treatment rise to the 60% level, or about the same as the telaprevir response rates. The test to determine which variant you have is available, not extremely expensive and clearly gives information you can use to make a decision about treatment. For a more info the link is here.

Secondly, the new drugs are not assured of either approval or timeliness. The latest Telaprevir application was submitted to the FDA in November, 2010 which means a decision is 6 to 10 months away. Boceprevir has not even reached the “it’s coming in the next x months stage of rumor yet.” There is also the, admittedly small, chance that Telaprevir is never approved. I have many friends who are in the gene-splicing and drug development fields who report a number of instances when companies were extremely confident of FDA approval only to be turned down during the final application. The FDA might come back with concerns that require further testing or additional data submissions, all of which could move the timeline much further out. The promising new polymerase inhibitors (RG7128 and RO5024048 for example) are only just beginning phase II trials which means they are at least 3-5 years away from any sort of approval and only if they succeed in further trials. There are other drugs even further away, etc.

Thirdly, these new drugs are expensive. They project to be about twice as expensive as the current interferon and ribavirin. The plan is that you only need 24 weeks of treatment, but it will be a very expensive 24 weeks. Therefore the question of once the drugs are approved how long it will take for them to be added to insurance company drug formularies so they will be covered by your insurance becomes extremely important. As we all know, insurance companies can be quite recalcitrant about approving new therapies.

Finally, there are all the considerations about your personal situation. What stage is your liver disease? What is your viral load? What is your general health? How old are you? These questions only start to list your issues. What is your financial situation? What is your insurance coverage? What is your work situation? Do you have solid family support? If you have to go on disability, how would that affect your job future? Can you even tell your employer, family, friends and coworkers that you have the disease? All of these and more are considerations that may be more important than the rates of viral response of the various drugs.

Remember two things as think about all the ramifications of when and how to deal with your Hepatitis C: first, there is always a newer, shinier, more promising therapy in the future and second, the best is the enemy of the good.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Ode to California Pacific Medical Center Hepatology Center

Today was my bi-weekly blood test. It was a quick and dirty one-tube wonder that measured the standard blood chemistry, hemogloblin, neutrophils, white and red cell counts, etc. It was a screening day for folks who were applying to be in one of the upcoming drug trials, so there was a bit of a wait at the Hepatology Center lab. They have a TV in the waiting room playing nature DVDs on a continuous loop with the sound turned way down. Anyone who has read much of this blog knows how much I like watching concentration free video, so it was not a burden to sit in a comfortable chair and wait my turn.

While waiting my managing nurse from the Roche drug trial (RO5024048 or RG7128 depending on which company you favor) AVB saw me and stopped by to chat me up. Actually she just sat down to ask how I was doing but we older guys can always dream. We talked for a bit and she asked if I was still on treatment, how much longer it was to last, if I was negative, whether I was still working and how I was coping in general. (I asked about her mother and she told me that she was fine, but probably needed to have somebody to talk to outside her family).

I gave her the lowdown on how I was doing – still on treatment, 54 weeks in 24 to go, I have been negative for 12 weeks now, I am still working 4 days a week and aside from feeling very tired all the time and stupid some of the time I felt I was doing okay. Like many people with experience in either undergoing or administering Hepatitis C treatment, she was surprised I am still working. She urged me to make sure that working was not taking too much out of me. She emphasized that if work wore me out too much, it could inhibit my ability to succeed at treatment and that I have to remember to think of my own health first. She reiterated something that she told me several times when I was in the experimental trial, that they would write the papers for a disability claim for me whenever I felt it was necessary. We talked briefly about our holiday plans; she patted my knee (see what I meant about chatting me up…) and went about her business.

I mention that meeting because it is characteristic of the vast majority of interactions I have had with the staff of the CPMC Hepatology Center. From the folks at the front desk to the people who draw blood, to the nurses, technicians and the doctors themselves, they all exhibit genuine concern and care for their patients. I am a relatively relaxed patient in most circumstances, but I have seen them show tremendous patience with difficult, disturbed, confused and unresponsive patients. They are gentle with the physically challenged, explain in great detail the nature of diseases and care, are helpful with the people for whom English is not a first language and generally kind and concerned with those under their treatment.

When they are dealing with me personally, I never feel that they are rushing me through our appointments. They answer my questions (and in fact are more than willing to grill me about how I am reacting and whether previously reported symptoms are still present) and explain medications and procedures until they are sure I understand what is going on. My nurse Alex (who, sadly, is leaving for a better paying job with another health organization) goes so far as to leave messages on all my various phones and then insists I call him back to make sure that his information has gotten to me. Dr. Bzowej has first-rate knowledge of the field and has a warm manner that is a great comfort during a trying time.

There are folks I know (a few in the local Hep C support group) who have not had experiences as positive as mine at CPMC. My wife claims that some of my experience is because I am a good person and that difficult people tend to have difficult experiences but she is not exactly unbiased in her analysis. Nonetheless, I have to say that the CPMC Hepatology Center and the people who staff it have been great to me and a huge reservoir of support for the past year. Let’s hope they only have to play that role for me until next May and that they never have to treat me again after that.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Another Day Another Insurance Functionary

It is amazing how exhausting phone conversations with health insurance bureaucrats can be. After composing and sending several emails, I hit the phones to try for more direct answers concerning the details of the potential coverages available to me. I talked to a number of folks who ran the gamut from clueless, bewildered, helpful but clueless, helpful but wrong and helpful and possibly correct. The problem is that determining the difference between the final two types, helpful but wrong and helpful but possible correct is neither easy nor readily apparent.

After sending a set of detailed questions to my HR department, they punted me further on to the insurance broker who handles our account. They were nice folks and quite helpful, but the insurance plan drug formulary comparison tool on their website indicated that Neupogen and Ribavirin were not in either the Blue Cross or the Healthnet formularies. I found that a bit hard to believe as both are large health care providers and must have more than a few Hep C patients. I managed to track down the pdf file of the actual Blue Cross formulary updated as of November, 2010 and all the drugs I am taking are in their formulary. Naturally, this does not raise one’s confidence level about the quality of the answers to the other questions I asked.

The two other questions I asked were about the drug copays for specialty drugs and any special tasks I needed to complete to insure continuity of care. The drug co-payment information they provided was straight out of the handbook and concerned the difference in co-payments between generic and brand name drugs, it did not address the specialty drug question. It may not even be an issue, but, again, it’s all up in the air until the actual paperwork goes through.

As far as continuity of care: heck, not a problem. Just let everyone know as soon as possible that the change in plans is occurring, get them to write new prescriptions for everything you take, get authorizations from the insurance company for all of them and have it all happen before any of the current scrips run out. Oh, and have it all happen during the highly productive holiday season.

If only they could switch the open enrollment period to some other time of the year...Ho! Ho! Ho!

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

The Joy of American Health Insurance

Two days ago the employees in my organization entered our annual health insurance open-enrollment season. While this has always been a pain in the butt process, it assumes greater importance given my current situation. Considering that I have 22 weeks left to complete my course of Hepatits C treatment, continuity of care becomes an issue of primary importance.

I currently have Blue Shield insurance. I enrolled in Blue Shield when my organization’s health care broker dropped my previous insurance company. This year, they have dropped Blue Shield from their list of available plans. They have substituted Anthem Blue Cross, one of the more notorious insurance companies in the country and Healthnet, one of the most expensive. Just the sort of additional stress one looks forward to at this most wonderful time of the year.

I am currently enrolled in an HMO under the Blue Shield umbrella. This is not an HMO in the traditional sense of Kaiser Permanente or Group Health; that is a company that owns it’s own medical facilities. Instead Blue Shield contracts with physician groups and hospitals that provide the same services as a HMO. My physician group is associated with both Blue Shield, Healthnet and Blue Cross, so I should – emphasis should – be able to transfer my care over to one of the other umbrella payment plans without a great deal of difficulty. Even if that is the case, however, there is no guarantee of consistency in the drugs each organization has in their drug formularies and particularly in the amount of co-payment they charge for the more exotic drugs necessary for treatment: Pegasys (interferon), Neupogen, Procrit and Ribavirin. Currently my co-payments for these bad boys run about $315.00 per month. Will the number go up, down, sideways? Inquiring minds want to know.

I have begun my research, of course. I have a series of questions in to my HR department, such as it is; I have called my specialty pharmacy to initiate inquiries as to their knowledge of co-payment differences; I have talked to my doctors about the necessary paperwork I will have to produce to ensure that I will have uninterrupted care. Oh yes, I have ten days to make my decision.

Would that our country was a sane one and health care was viewed as both a necessity and something citizens could expect from the taxes they pay. Thank heaven I at least have an employer that provides health insurance plans or I might be living in a box right now – the actual retail cost billed to the insurance company for the drugs I take on a monthly basis is just over $7,000, quite a bit more that I make in pay.

Soon enough information will come pouring in and decisions will be made, I can hardly wait for the conversations with insurance functionaries, Joy To The World, eh?

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Science Café About Hepatitis C Research

San Francisco has a thriving science and nerd community. A symptom of that is the wide array of science events that occur throughout the Bay Area every month. One of them is a monthly series titled “Science Café” in which a scientist or two is inveigled to come to a local café and talk for a few hours about their area of expertise. The most recent event was about Hepatitis C.

The Atlas Café was the scene and the scientists were Dr. Melanie Ott of the Gladstone Institute who researches the reproduction cycle of the Hep C virus and Dr. Todd Frederick a Hepatologist at the California Pacific Medical Center who treats Hep C patients. As a disclaimer I must mention that Dr. Frederick has examined, palpated and prescribed for me as part of the Polymerase Inhibitor study I was in.

Dr. Frederick gave an overview of the scope of the Hep C epidemic and the nature of current treatments available to combat it. He talked about the new protease inhibitors Telaprevir and Boceprevir that are awaiting FDA approval to be used in combination with interferon and ribavirin. He also gave a hint at possible future therapies using polymerase inhibitors with interferon and ribavirin and the possible combination of polymerase and protease inhibitors with ribavirin to create a treatment regimen that does not use interferon.

Dr. Ott gave us a basic yet thorough crash course in the reproductive cycle of the Hep C virus. She revealed its dependence on fat molecules in human cells and the promising area of research involved in using fat disabling compounds to interfere with the ability of the Hep C virus to reproduce itself. She also had a very cool animation that illustrated the reproductive cycle of the virus. She was quick to state that this was still basic, in the petri dish research and many years away from demonstrating efficacy in living organisms. It was fascinating stuff and the crowd of 30 was intent throughout both presentations.

A few of the questions asked in the Q & A were about the new compounds being developed and particularly about the issue of deciding whether to treat now or wait for new developments. Dr. Frederick clearly attempted to be balanced in his answers, but as a doctor involved in clinical trials of promising new compounds he is really exited about the possibilities of the new treatment combinations and he showed a bit of a bias towards waiting for new developments.

I respect Dr. Frederick’s viewpoint a great deal, but I think if you are seriously considering entering treatment, you need to consider a wide range of factors beyond the simple consideration of treatment outcome percentages. The condition of your general health, the condition of your liver, the amount of impact the disease is having on your quality of life, your family situation, your housing situation, your work situation, your insurance situation, your financial situation, the quality of support you can expect, all of these are important factors to consider in your decision. We still don’t know when the new drugs will be approved, how quickly they may be included in insurance company covered drug rosters, and how much they will cost (though we do know they will be expensive). So think it all through thoroughly and carefully before making a decision. While the future may be so bright we gotta wear shades, the shades might be very expensive and the future a bit further off than we would wish.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Personal Evidence of Cognitive Deficits from Hepatitis C Treatment

I am writing this piece having finally managed to tear myself away from the television after watching almost 90 minutes of the Adam Sandler vehicle “You Don’t Mess With The Zohan.” If that is not evidence enough that 46 weeks of treatment have eroded my mental capacities, let me add this nugget: I had to get up, go downstairs, turn the television on and check the listings to remember the name of the movie. Having walked away from the TV not 3 minutes earlier, I could only remember that the movie had the word Zohan in the title but could not recall the complete title.

In the past 6 months of treatment, my critical capacities have deteriorated to the point that I have descended from watching “Celebrity Rehab” through “Jersey Shore” and “Basketball Wives” and now am watching, and more embarrassingly being entertained by, Adam Sandler movies. I have 26 weeks to go in my Hep C chemo regimen, what will I be watching by next June, “Jackass 7, Stupid Geezers in 3D”?

The sad part is that I cannot help myself and neither it seems, can other Hep C chemo veterans. Almost everyone I have talked to about their treatment has admitted that the same thing happened to them. The lucky ones were finally so tired and concentrationally challenged they could not even muster the energy to pay attention to television and just sat staring into space. I suspect that would be preferable to Rob Schneider, Johnny Knoxville, Dane Cook or whatever else might be passing in front of my eyeballs by the end of this.

It is disconcerting to think that this result has a tiny chance of remaining permanent. While I might end up being perfectly happy as a drooling idiot for the rest of my life, I suspect my wife would find that less charming.

But, looking on the bright side, when I finally stop the interferon I can document in painful detail the increase in brain function, the gradual increase in my boredom threshold and the return of my memory. Given that I’ll be approaching 60 by the time I fully recover from all this, I wonder how I will be able to tell if my memory is back or not…

I admit that all of this is anecdotal evidence from a small set of treatment-experienced individuals and does not attain the level of statistical validity, but it is nonetheless disturbing. I’m not sure what would happen if I started to bug my wife to come with me to the latest Adam Sandler classic on opening night.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Managing Serotonin Update

It’s been just over 4 weeks since I cut down on the drugs that affect the serotonin levels in the brain. I was taking trazadone for sleep, tramadol for pain and daily doses of Celexa for depression. I cut out the tramadol and the trazadone and, after consultation with my hepatologist Dr. Bzowej, replaced them with Ambien and Vicodin. The results have been significant.

I have noticed that I am physically calmer. My hands are steadier and the random muscle twitching I have been experiencing has receded a bit. I still have all the hyperactivity behaviors I’ve had all my life (leg bouncing, pacing, etc.) but I am not as physically tense and tight as I was 4 weeks ago. My teeth-clenching and grinding have both subsided and the tendency to get caught in negative mental feedback loops (or to put it another way, become obsessed with other people’s irritating behavior) has also declined. Not to be continually catching myself thinking about other people and their foibles really reduces the stress load.

Among the downside to the change is that I am now using Vicodin for pain. Tramadol was relatively mild in its mental effects compared to vicodin. The days I have to take two doses to relieve the aching and allow sleep leave me loopy while I’m taking it and groggy the next morning. Given that serotonin overload can result in seizures and occasionally death, I’ll deal with vicodin’s side effects, it’s just that losing even more mental acuity while I’m taking it means I have even less to work with.

Ambien works differently as well. It is not as strong as trazadone. That means that I don’t wake up groggy, but I also wake up much more during the night. Trazadone would generally allow me to get at least one stretch of 3-4 hours of sleep during the night. The ambien puts me to sleep more gently but also not as deeply and I generally sleep for no more than 2 hours at a time. I wake up feeling rested so it is apparently having the desired effect, it just accomplishes it differently.

The change in medications has done me good. This reinforces the fact that you have to pay close attention to your own physical state and close attention as well to your drugs, their doses and their interactions. Don’t be afraid to talk to your doctor about any symptoms you think may be related to any of your drugs. They can’t help you if you don’t talk to them. Make sure that you get your questions and concerns are answered in any meetings you have with your doctors and nurses.

Now that my mental state is calmer and steadier and my energy is returning after the emotional roller coaster of the San Francisco Giants World Championship drive, I hope to have more frequent postings. Thanks to all of you who have commented and offered support. I hope the rally thong ends up in Cooperstown…

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Memory Deficit Side Effects May Be Permanent

There was a guy I knew years ago who had the talent of entering a conversation about almost any subject with the line, “let me tell you a story about that.” Strangely enough, the story was relevant to the subject an uncanny amount of the time. I don’t have that same talent, but that won’t stop me from starting off with a story.

The day that I got the news that my viral load was undetectable or “negative” in the parlance of the hepatology folks, I wrote an entry about the motivation that gave me to pay special attention to my drug dosing regimen so as to give myself the best chance to succeed at having a sustained viral response at the end of treatment. Motivated though I was, I forgot both my evening Ribavirin dose and my evening injection of interferon on that very day. This was not disastrous as I had already taken 600 mg of ribavirin in the morning and I was able to give myself the interferon the following day. Nonetheless, it shows the power that interferon brain fog has to confuse even in the face of sincere dedication.

The following week I had my regular appointment with my hepatologist Dr. Bzowej. We discussed my test results, my general state of health and how I was reacting to the medications I was taking. I went over the various physical reactions I was having to the drugs and how those reactions had changed over time. She then quizzed me about my mental state. I told her that my memory had deteriorated quite a bit over the course of treatment and that my ability to concentrate and solve problems had also taken a hit. These are expected side effects of the interferon and ribavirin drug combination, but Dr. Bzowej had some new information about them that is quite disturbing.

The memory and cognitive deficits that Hep C treatment inflicts on those who are undertaking it have been believed to be temporary. When the patient stops taking the drugs, those side effects gradually disappeared and the patient returned to the same mental acuity they had before treatment began. This is apparently not always the case. Dr. Bzowej related that in the past year, she has had two patients whose symptoms have not improved. Their memory and concentration problems have remained over a year after no longer taking interferon and ribavirin. She is concerned enough that she referred me to a neuro-psychology specialist for a set of tests to determine my current memory and cognitive abilities. She will then have me tested in anther 3 months to check whether there has been further deterioration and if so, what course of action we should take.

This scares the crap out of me. The one thing I have always been able to rely on is my brain. I have neither dazzling good looks nor great athletic ability or physical strength. I have some amount of personal charm, but certainly not enough to depend on for a living. Nor do I have vast amounts of physical or moral courage. What I do have is a good brain. I have intelligence, creativity, the ability to learn new skills relatively quickly and the ability to solve problems. This has always been the rock I could depend on, and if it crumbles, I don’t know where it leaves me. A pile of sand on the beach maybe; certainly it changes who I am and what I can do.

The same applies to anyone else considering entering treatment. Talk to your hepatologist about this issue. Ask if it is possible to be tested for memory and cognitive function before treatment begins to establish a baseline for future reference. While in treatment keep your doctor informed of the symptoms of memory and concentration loss. You have to decide if being cleared of the Hep C virus is worth the small possibility of permanent brain function damage.

I’m still glad I entered the study and am now in standard treatment, but I don’t want the price to be permanent memory disability no matter how small the chances of that happening.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Undetectable

There is a certain sort of mild agony that accompanies waiting for medical test results. You want to know the results, but at the same time you don’t want to learn anything negative. It is a feeling of “please let me know the results as quickly as possible, but only if it is good news.” If the results are delayed, the tension slowly increases until you don’t care what the results are; you just want to hear something definite. I was in that holding pattern until yesterday when I finally got the first viral load numbers I have seen in a month. The tension turned to relief when I learned I was back to undetectable.

Finally, after 16 weeks of Standard of Care chemo, I am officially back to where I was after 6 weeks of the RO5024048 study. I have definitely been undetectable (under 43 IU/ml by this test) since October 6th. I may have been undetectable since September 23rd, but that was the test the lab screwed up. This means that, among other things, my liver is getting a break from the tissue damage that occurs while fighting the Hep C virus. It can begin to heal and regenerate once again.

It also means there is now a date certain (as the politicians would say) for the end of my Standard of Care chemotherapy. The hepatologists at California Pacific Medical Center (CPMC) continue interferon and ribavirin therapy for 36 weeks after the patient reaches undetectable level. That means that June 15th, 2011 will be the end of treatment. Now I can start crossing off weeks on my calendar (or maybe I can start carving marks into my desktop for each week completed) until it is over.

This is all based on the fact that I stay undetectable in each test from now until then, but I have even more motivation now to adhere as closely as possible to the “Best Practices” of the chemo regimen. (Sorry for the corporate terminology in the last sentence, but I was at our strategic planning staff meeting today where I was bombarded with bureaucratic mumblespeak up to and including “creating cross-functional workgroup plans”)

I have a deadline. There is real evidence that the interferon and ribavirin regimen is working. I will hold these facts in front of me like talismans whenever the night sweats get too wet, nothing seems worth eating and getting up the steps of the stadium to the cheap seats leaves me exhausted. It is working and there is an end in sight. It was worth the wait to hear those things.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Managing The Serotonin Complex

My previous post discussed the problems I have been having because I am taking Celexa, Trazadone and Tramadol to manage side effects of my chemotherapy. I had a scheduled appointment with my hepatologist this past Friday and decided to bring these issues up at the meeting.

That plan was derailed from the start. When I got to the doctor’s office, my appointment had been cancelled. It was irritating as hell, but they did immediately contact my nurse practitioner Alex who called in the overall Hep C treatment nurse Tammy for a three-way consult. I explained my symptoms and my worries about serotonin overload. Tammy agreed with me that my symptoms could be some level of serotonin syndrome and she and Alex both said I should stop the Tramadol. I told them that the only effective means I had of dealing with the muscle pain I get each injection cycle was to take 800 mg of Ibuprofen every 4 hours. I said it worked fine, but that I had been told it was bad for my kidneys. They agreed but said that in the hepatology department they do not prescribe any opiate-based painkillers. I would have to talk to my primary care doctor in order to get anything prescribed. This sets me up for a great meeting with Dr. K to engage in some classic drug-seeking behavior. I need that stress like I need another hemorrhoid.

I also told them I wanted to change from Trazadone to something else for sleep. They were both resistant to that suggestion. Apparently Trazadone is prescribed along with Celexa and other antidepressants fairly commonly and without problems. I explained that my nervous system is sensitive to drugs and perhaps we should cut back to only one serotonin reuptake inhibitor. They told me that we should eliminate one at a time. Not a bad idea, but then they don’t feel as jumpy as I do.

That was five days ago and it has been a nasty five days indeed. I decided to stop the trazadone as well as the tramadol to try to get my serotonin levels done more quickly. The first 3 days were especially rough at night. My legs were so twitchy that I had to keep getting out of bed to walk around and tire them out. When I got back to be, I had a ten minute window to fall asleep before the twitching would start again and I would have to start pacing, It was a great deal like the symptoms described in this post, but they lasted longer and were more intense. I managed to get about four hours of sleep a night.

The past few days have been better. I have less general jumpiness, irritability and nervousness during the day. The nights are still difficult, but I have been able to get five to six hours of sleep. I am going to try some over-the-counter sleep stuff of some kind if this goes on much longer.

I think I made the right choice to get off the tramadol and the trazadone, but I certainly wish I had a better idea of how long it’s going to take for my body to settle down a bit. I have dealt with restless leg syndrome all my life, but if this goes on much longer I’ll need stronger drugs than celexa to keep me sane…

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Minding Your Drug Interactions

Among the disadvantages of being in a drug research study is the tendency for discontinuity in your medical care. The RO5024048 Roche study that I participated in was run by Dr. Natalie Bzowej. It was administered by the Hepatology Center at California Pacific Medical Centers (CPMC). CPMC is a first rate institution and they do cutting edge Hepatitis C research. The doctors are excellent, but as is true with specialists everywhere, they are busy people with many patients. When I screened for the study, I was examined by Dr. Frederick. For early symptoms of rash, sweats etc, I was examined by Dr. Merriman. When I had difficulty with pain issues I was examined by Dr. Bonacini and prescribed Tramadol. Later, when I was having trouble with sleep, I was examined by Dr. Frederick and prescribed Trazadone. When depression issues cropped up, I was examined by Dr. Bzowej and prescribed Paxil. and added Ativan for use as needed. After I reported difficulties with the Paxil, I was seen by Dr. Frederick again and he changed the antidepressant to Celexa Finally, my thyroid function was affected by the research meds and I was put on Levothyroxine by my primary care doctor.

Over time, this can add up to a significant number of medications creating their own set of interactions with each other that have to be carefully attended to. This is something that you should not be leaving solely to the doctors treating you. All the doctors in the hepatology center work on the same team. They are all involved in doing research and, to the limits imposed by patient and study confidentiality restrictions, they communicate with each other and share patient information. However, each doctor has preferred medications they are familiar with and prescribe regularly. This creates a situation in which each doctor is thoroughly familiar with certain meds and they may not be conversant in the effects and interactions of meds preferred and prescribed by the other doctors. You have to do your own research on the drugs you are taking and the potential interactions between them all. I found the drug interaction database at drugs.com to be particularly helpful. If you find something, contact your doctor and get their response. If you feel you need to change drugs, tell them. Keep at it until you get answers that satisfy you.

In my case, I was prescribed tramadol, trazadone and celexa. All have the effect of inhibiting serotonin reuptake in the brain. While this is a good thing for combating depression, if it results in an overabundance of serotonin in the brain, it can cause serious problems: irritability, confusion, tremor, stronger reflex reactions, sweats and potentially even seizures. I do not think these would have been prescribed together if all my symptoms had manifested at the same time. But as each was prescribed for a symptom that was occurring at separate times in the study, I ended up taking them all. There are days when I have to take all three and it is on those days that I have been noticing an increase in my some of my symptoms.

I have increased irritability, a general increase in physical tension and in activities like rubbing my hands, pacing, grinding my teeth, etc. This is all symptomatic of serotonin syndrome which I thought I experienced a few months ago. I am seeing both my primary care doctor and my hepatologist this week and will bring this all up with them both. I would like to see another painkiller substituted for the tramadol and perhaps another sleep aid substituted for the trazadone. I am not sure which way the doctors will want to go but I am tired of feeling this way and need a change.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

The latest Viral Load Results – Sort of

When I checked the mailbox Saturday, I saw the envelope with my latest test results. Two weeks ago when my last test numbers came in the mail, I did some serious magical thinking. I implored nature to be on my side, I beseeched luck and karma and I chanted to myself all the way into the house. This time, the site of the envelope made me queasy. I was so close to undetectable last time and want so much to finally be undetectable with this test, that fear was the main emotion I felt. I want good news. I want the prize and I don’t know how I will react if the numbers don’t back up what I want to happen.

I take the envelope into the house, tear it open and scan down the page past the white and red blood cell results to the RNA quantitative numbers. There I see this statement: “test cancelled, coding error, resubmitted to LIS.” I have been either in the RO5024048 study or in Standard of Care chemotherapy for 10 months. During that time I have had over 40 separate blood draws with hundreds of tests done on the blood. Never during all that has a test failed, been cancelled or had faulty results. But this week, when I may see the result I have been waiting for since I got bounced out of the study by the viral breakthrough, something was wrong with either the blood or the test. To say it is torture would be an insult to those who have actually undergone torture, but mental agony, yes indeed.

I will call my nurse on Monday to check if the test was redone and there are any updated results, but I have the sickening feeling that I won’t see any updated viral load numbers until the results of the test scheduled for this coming Wednesday come back in a couple of weeks.

When you are in chemotherapy your focus tends to narrow. Test results become the mileposts by which you judge your progress. They are regular points of data that you use to chart the fight against your disease. You have cycles of drug taking, cycles of side effects and cycles of results that mark your life. Missing test results have a serious psychological effect on your treatment in the same way that missing drug doses have a serious physical effect. This was the week I was going to celebrate (or weep with fear that the chemotherapy wasn’t going to be effective). Instead I am left hanging for another two weeks until I find out whether it’s hope or fear.

On the bright side, the Giants won the Western Division today and are going to the post-season. So life really is good after all…

Friday, October 1, 2010

The End Of The Season – Baseball, That Is.

Fantasy Team Disappoints, Actual Baseball Exhilarates


The Vincent Black Shadows, a fantasy baseball franchise operated by your correspondent for the past 25 years in five different fantasy leagues in three different cities in two different time zones, are limping to a sixth place finish in the Tri-Tip League of Santa Barbara. It was a year that saw the team crippled by injuries, players traded out of the National League and players underachieving due to sloth, pigheadedness and the insistence of playing while injured.

The Shadows pitching staff was particularly disappointing. Young pitchers failed to develop (Paul Maholm, Chris Volstad). Veterans regressed (Aaron Harang, David Bush). Speculative signings failed to pan out (Sean Gallagher, Sammy Gervacio).

The position player side of the roster entered the season weak in power hitting. My plan to leverage my excellent farm system (Starlin Castro, Jose Tabata, Devaris Gordon) as trade bait to acquire sluggers from other teams was scotched by the unexpected early promotions of Castro and Tabata to the big leagues. Adding to my loss of trade leverage were injuries to two key players (John Baker, Mark DeRosa) and the trade to the American League of another (Conor Jackson) leaving my team with holes I could not fill.

Even with this bad luck, I was still in the hunt until late July. I was unable to negotiate the needed trades however, and even my prescient signing of new Milwaukee closer John Axford and the late season additions of Kevin Corriea and Joe Blanton could not generate the necessary momentum for a run at the money. The foundation for next year’s team is very solid, but it is cold comfort indeed here at the tail end of my third year in a row finishing out of the money.

I like to think that the brain fog produced by Hep C and interferon contributed to the Shadow’s disappointing season by impairing the decisions made by the team’s “baseball people.” In fact, now that I think of it, I went symptomatic right about the time that the Shadow’s began their decline…

Major League baseball, on the other hand, has been a delight. My old home team, the Twins are in the playoffs, the Texas Rangers managed by one of my favorite people in baseball, Ron Washington are in the playoffs and Your San Francisco Giants, with a win tonight against the Padres, will win the National League Western Division Championship. The postseason is almost upon us and I have several rooting interests and a friend who has scrambled around and secured tickets.

I am optimistically awaiting my latest viral load results, and the Giant’s game is starting up on the TV and life is good enough for now…

Monday, September 27, 2010

Less Anger, More Irritation

Today was more placid than the past several days. The book sale was over save for the cleanup. We made more money than we projected we would. Even though not nearly enough people showed up to help with the load out, it still managed to get done without driving any of us to total exhaustion. Close, but not quite all the way there.

The inner dialogue today was primarily one of irritation and disgust instead of rage and fury. That is a big win from my perspective. Even though none of the dialogue ever reaches spoken form to be judged by others hearing it, it still makes me feel better that, were it to slip out, it would not sound quite so insane as it would have this past weekend.

I still set up an appointment with the difficult Dr. K, my primary care guy to sort out the thyroid situation, as it could not hurt to know the score on those meds. He can check assorted plumbing as well so we will all know just how things look from the bottom up.

Still keeping the knives sequestered and the ammo separated from the firearms by stairs, but the trigger finger is much less itchy today…

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Anger Management Revisited

I have noticed that anger management issues are cropping up once again as my chemotherapy drags on. In an earlier post, I talked about the first bout of it I had several weeks into the RO5024048 study. It’s coming back again, though with a decidedly different twist. I am not having problems dealing directly with irritating people, but I am having extended arguments with them in my head. I think this could be attributed to one of two side effects or a third cause that is due my current circumstances.

The first would be depression. I am on Celexa and do not feel that I am depressed. I remember what I felt like before I started on the antidepressants and this doesn’t feel like that. I am a bit tenser than I have been and I have a theory about that I am going to check out this week. I noticed that once I started on levothyroxine for my low thyroid function, I became more jittery than I had been before. There was a bit of an adjustment period when I started on antidepressants but that had leveled out a bit by the time I started on the thyroid meds. I then noticed a definite step up in nervousness when I started taking the thyroid meds. I wonder if my thyroid is working better now and my dose is too high and whether the thyroid meds might be interacting with the antidepressants to make me a bit too edgy. I am calling my primary care doctor tomorrow to set up an appointment to test my thyroid hormone levels and perhaps adjust my dose.

The second possibility is the mental problems that can be caused by interferon and ribavirin themselves. It is a known side effect of this combination of drugs that can include irritability, depression, aggressive behavior, suicidal behavior and suicidal or homicidal thoughts. I have not been thinking about killing myself or anyone else. I have indeed thought about letting a few individuals know what I really think about their attitude and behavior and doing it in no uncertain terms. I have imagined these (admittedly one-sided) conversations in vivid detail. I have not, however, actually done any of this and I have not noticed that my behavior towards others has become more aggressive. I am trying to keep a close watch on this and am going to wait for the results of the thyroid tests and any dose adjustments before I address the issue of whether my antidepressants need to be adjusted.

I do note that my behavior has become more decisive, but no one has mentioned that I have been abusive or angry toward them, and I have been asking for feedback if that happens. I find that in situations start to degenerate into indecisive dithering, I am becoming more apt to step in and tell people what to do. This does not seem to me to fall under aggressive behavior in the way they mean in the side effects description, but I am definitely wary of my reactions and behavior.

The third possibility is that some of this is the result of a long hard seven days of dealing with our organization’s biggest event of the year. I have been working longer hours than usual, in more crowded and chaotic circumstances than usual, doing more stressful work than usual. There is nothing like dealing with the sort of obsessive, picky and occasionally barking mad people that populate a used book sale to drive stress levels to the stratosphere. I don’t believe it is entirely due to this circumstance that I am noticing my inner dialogue moving more to “that stupid little prick” sorts of expressions than usual, but it must have something to do with it.

So until I get to see all my doctors about my meds, the knives stay in the drawers and the guns and ammunition on separate floors of the house…

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Brain Fog x Fatigue = Say What?

The longer one takes interferon, the more significant the cognitive and memory deficits become. It’s a gradual process whose creeping nature means that you some definite “oh crap,” moments can pop up and catch you unawares. The farther into a task you go in any one day, the more like you are to be hit with a OC moment.

The organization I work for puts on a big used book sale every year. Picture a large airplane hanger with 550 banquet tables and 400,000 books open for sale for 5 days to a total of 12,000 customers. This requires some high level organization to pull off successfully, which is why the people who know us are annually astonished that we can do it.

It also means an early start the first day to make sure the logistics are all mapped out (literally) before the army of volunteers and the truckloads of tables and books start to arrive. I was there at 6:30 a.m. to mark out the floor of the hangar for table and book placement. This involves chalk, long tape measures and lots of walking; as in 20 trips up and down the 600 foot building and lots of side-to-side walking, and conferences, and rechecking, etc. By about 10:00 a.m, my dogs were barking and my brain was fogging. I noticed that I was having trouble reading my map and making calculations on my tape measure. I had to mark a 48-foot length of tables on the floor and I was standing at the 59 foot mark on my tape measure. I could not for the life of my figure out that 59 plus 48 equals 107 feet. I made enough wrong marks on the floor (which I did a bad job of scuffing out) that the volunteers had to track me down and make me show them where the damn tables were supposed to go. Suddenly, I just couldn’t think clearly. Taking a break helped a bit as did water, a snack and periodic rests, but once the brain fog started, the rest of the day was not a good one for our hero.

Twelve hours of sleep helped, but another long day the next day meant that I needed another ten hours of sleep today, a three hour nap in the afternoon and restricting myself to menial tasks around the house. Ten hours more tonight and I should be ready to exhaust myself again tomorrow.

Of course I will be most aware of my situation and be extra careful to rest adequately and not overextend myself in stressful situations, of course…

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Latest Viral Load Count – So Close…

When I checked the mailbox on the way home from work today, the envelope with my latest test results was there. The other two envelopes were my paycheck and my wife’s paycheck, but I didn’t register that until later. I wasn’t thinking about money. The only thing I was thinking about was whether those results would show my viral load was undetectable.

In situations like these (preparing to open the envelope bearing important news), you find that you’re still mentally a primitve creature. I’m not a god-botherer, as the Brits would say, but as I walked in the house I was chanting to myself, “Yes, this is it. Please be undetectable. Yes, this is the week. Come on, let’s see undetectable results.” I sat down at the kitchen table (okay, it was the table on the back porch but you get the picture), held the envelope, took a deep breath and opened it up.

My viral load numbers since the viral breakthrough have been: 40.000; 10,000; 5,000; 1,500; 990; 310 and 110 IU/ml. I was really hoping that I would get that final bump down but it didn’t quite happen. The number was 60 IU/ml. Undetectable on this test is 43. It’s been 13 weeks since I went back on full interferon dosing after the breakthrough and I’m not quite there yet. Seventeen of those little bits of viral DNA per milliliter are still hanging on in various nooks and crannies of my bloodstream.

Objectively, this is not the best news. The longer it takes you to reach undetectable levels the lower your percentage of having a sustained viral response at the end of your chemotherapy. But I’m going to keep the same attitude that I had at the beginning of the RO5024048 polymerase inhibitor trial just under ten months ago. Back then I refused to believe that I would not get the test drug and would end up in the placebo arm of the trial. Now, I refuse to believe that I will not be one of the 25% or so who obtain an SVR as slower responders.

I’m not as stubborn as my wife’s Irish ancestry allows her to be, but I have my own stubborn Polish fatalism going for me and I’m going to ride it to the finish. Primitive mentality yes, but it’s the only one I have.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Vacation In The Sierras

Vacationing while on chemotherapy for Hep C has a number of factors to take into consideration even for a short jaunt to the seaside. Adding a few days and several thousand feet of altitude to your relaxing getaway and a whole new set of issues get added to the mix. It is not really that difficult to arrange, but you can count on being sideswiped by an unknown effect or two graciously provided by your medical situation.

I just spent 5 days at Camp Mather in the Sierras of California. Camp Mather is a piece of property owned by the City of San Francisco that is located between Yosemite and Hetch-Hetchy Valley. It was acquired in the early twentieth century through a combination of political hardball, backroom dealing, convenient crafting of legal provisions, and the judicious application of money. It has about 75 cabins, a small lake, a pool, trails, stands of ponderosa pine and incense cedar, tent camping sites, bathhouses and a mess hall. Each cabin has a couple of beds, two plastic chairs, lights and a picnic table. It’s not tent camping, but is rustic enough to be only a step up. It is also at 4500 feet above sea level.

The specifics of the Hep C planning required bringing all three injectable drugs along in a cooler as my dosing schedule occurred during the vacation. I brought along a fully loaded daily drug-dosing carrier that had all my daily meds broken down into morning and evening doses. I also brought the ancillary drugs along in case I couldn’t sleep, became anxious or the pain in my muscles flared up.

The drug dosing all went swimmingly, but the thin air really did me in. The simple act of unloading our stuff out of the car and into the cabin and setting it up, let me gasping and exhausted. Nothing a quick nap didn’t fix, but it certainly caught me off guard. A bit of clear thinking on my part could have predicted this, but hey…
A trip to Glacier Point in Yosemite (one of the most spectacular views of granite domes and glacial valleys that exists in the USA), which is at the 7200-foot level, was even more daunting. As I walked up the slope to the overlook I was constantly being passed by fit, trim, healthy people in their 60s, 70s, and even tough old birds in their 80s. You nod cheerfully, gasp out a hello and plod along.

The thin air also makes keeping properly hydrated something you have to pay particular attention to. You have to drink water constantly to maintain your normal hydration level and stave off nausea and queasiness. Combine this with my walnut sized bladder and enlarged prostate and it’s not a pretty picture. For surviving the nights I have two words: gallon jug.

The third factor is really a combination of the first two. The thin air and tendency towards dehydration leave you even more susceptible to fatigue than usual. Don’t plan on cramming too much activity into your day or you will spend the next day doing nothing but sleeping.

This is not to say I did not have a good time. It was a delightful long weekend. We got together with old friends, met interesting new people, saw places we had never seen before, revisited old favorites and simply lounged around. Even the food was good. I will stand in a cafeteria line any time for turkey dinner, tri-tip steak or spaghetti with meat sauce. The staff and volunteers who keep the place going are great folks.

So by all means head out the mountains whether you are on chemo or not. Just prepare to be surprised by how you body reacts to your brain’s idea of a good time.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

It Is Chemotherapy; It Is Not “Treatment.”

The statistics speak for themselves. Over 4,000,000 people are credibly estimated to have Hepatitis C in the USA. The research money devoted to finding a cure for Hepatitis C is about $20 per infected individual. As a counter example, about 500,000 people have HIV/Aids in the USA. The research money devoted to finding a cure for Aids is $2700 per infected individual. You do the math, research money in the USA for Aids: $1,350,000,000; research money in the USA for Hepatitis C: $80,000,000; fourteen times the money for ¼ the total number of patients.

I do not begrudge the money granted to research on AIDS. I do not begrudge the money granted to research cancer or heart disease or tuberculosis or any other life-threatening disease. All these diseases merit serious study. I am interested in why Hep C is so underrepresented in the research funding arena. A few thoughts have been knocking around my head concerning that area.

The closest disease example I can think of to Hep C is HIV. Both groups of people infected by the particular disease are stigmatized to one extent or another. The AIDS community was painted from the very beginning as promiscuous, drug using homosexuals – hard to beat that for a stigma in American society. Hep C has been characterized as a disease of drug users and needle sharers, another big no-no in the USA. Yet after about 3 or 4 years the AIDS community was well organized, aggressive, public and effective in lobbying the drug companies and the FDA. It took a long time and a lot of hard work, but they got a lot of attention, a lot of money and some effective treatments leading to a high rate of long-term survivors. One of the reasons that they were effective was that they were a unified, identifiable community, stigmatized or no, that was able to leverage their movement for gay rights onto the movement for HIV research and treatment. The out of the closet gay community led the way in publicizing the disease and the need for research.

Individuals infected with Hep C are spread across wider segments of society. They are present in larger numbers across various sexual, gender and racial segments of society and a lot of them are still in the closet, as it were, regarding their disease. While there are advocacy groups, support groups, web sites, etc. There is not a tight, vocal, aggressive group lobbying loud and hard for additional funding. We need to have an out of the closet group of Hep C infected being in your face about the situation regarding research and treatment.

Another problem we have is that Hepatitis C patients undergo “treatment” or enter “standard of care” or are in a “study” or are utilizing “alternative therapies.” We need to call a spade a spade here. Hepatitis C is fought using chemotherapy, not “treatment.” Calling it what it truly is magnifies the significance of what people with Hep C are going through. Everyone knows someone who has undergone chemotherapy for breast cancer or colon cancer or leukemia or prostate cancer and they all understand how serious and invasive it is. By referring to Hep C treatment as treatment or Standard of Care or therapy diminishes the seriousness of the disease itself and the regimen used for attacking the virus. We need to stop minimizing it. What we go through is not treatment; it is hard-core chemotherapy with all the attendant problems and side effects.

To use myself as an example once again, I am 9 months into chemotherapy for Hepatitis C. I inject 3 drugs on a weekly basis: Pegasys, Procrit and Neupogen. I take four additional drugs on a daily basis: Ribavirin, Celexa, Levothyroxine and Folic Acid. I take three additional drugs on an as needed basis: Trazadone, Tramadol and Ativan. I am using 10 different drugs to attack the Hep C virus and to manage the side effects of the drugs that are attacking it. If that does not qualify as chemotherapy, what the hell does?

I have side effects ranging from nausea, fatigue, hair loss, muscle pain, joint pain, fevers, rashes, night sweats, low white blood counts, anemia and brain fog (because of the brain fog, I’m sure I have forgotten some of the side effects). If that array of side effects does not indicate I am undergoing chemotherapy, again, what the hell does?

It is time to call what we endure to fight the Hepatitis C virus what it is: Chemotherapy. It is invasive, disruptive and long lasting. In fact Hep C chemo generally lasts for 48 weeks. That is considerably longer than the chemo and radiation regimens for a number of cancers and other diseases. This is a serious process.

Our disease is serious and ultimately fatal, our method of attacking it is a long course of difficult chemotherapy. It does neither our disease, our treatment or ourselves as patients any favors to be less than open about the seriousness of our disease and the long, difficult and exhausting regimen of chemotherapy we undergo to fight it. Let’s do ourselves the justice of calling it what it is.

Thanks for listening to the rant. I am on vacation for the next week and will have more bile when I return...

Saturday, September 4, 2010

A Nice Soft Belly

It turns out that my status as a research study participant who morphed into a standard of care hepatology patient created a bit of a black hole in my medical records. Since all of my records from the study are confidential the hepatology department discovered that even though I was 12 weeks into treatment, they did not have basic paperwork on me. To solve this problem, they brought me in for a meeting with another nurse practitioner, TL, to gather the necessary data. Unfortunately, they did not tell me why I was meeting with her and thus I left my medical history documents at home.

When I arrived, they handed me a twelve page questionnaire detailing my medical history, most of which I can never remember in normal circumstances much less when my brain is in a fog. It worked out well enough in the end as TL and I went through it together and puzzled out the details. It was reassuring as well that when I recounted the timeline of my study participation, dose reductions and subsequent viral breakthrough, TL was firmly convinced that the dose reductions were indeed the cause of the breakthrough. It is powerful reinforcement to hear another experienced person express the opinion that it was not the intractability of the virus that caused the problem, but rather the variability in dosage dictated by the study protocols. It reinforces my optimism going forward through the rest of the treatment.

TL informed me that the rest of the treatment would total nine additional months after I became undetectable. Given the nine months I have been on meds, it will make a total of 18 months of interferon, ribavirin and the other assorted drugs I am taking. It is going to be an even longer grind than I assumed at the beginning of the process lo those many months ago.

My viral load is down to 110 IU/ml. after twelve weeks and I am hoping to see it go undetectable (under 47 IU/ml.) in my next test on the 10th of September. That would put the end of my treatment in June of 2011 when I turn 58. If it works and I am still undetectable six months after the end of treatment, I will have gone from diagnosed to cleared of the virus in three years. A dream perhaps, but it’s the one I am sticking with.

The meeting ended up with TL adding some additional monthly blood draws to my schedule and a brief physical exam. TL checked my legs for swelling, listened to my lungs, checked for any rashes and then palpated my stomach to check for ascites. “Oh, you have a nice soft belly,” commented TL, “no evidence of fluids at all.”

That is the best medical comment I may have ever received. From this point forward, anyone who comments on what is left of my spare tire is going to be told that my medical team has complimented me on my soft belly and far be it for anyone else to criticize its texture. In fact, I am patting it now as I finish this missive, so soft…

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Careful Planning Meets Chaos Theory

When Chaos Theory first became widely discussed years ago, there was a quick and dirty example of it that made the rounds: Chaos Theory can be illustrated as your typical day. You wake up in the morning with a certain plan or pattern for your day. You have places to be and tasks that need to be accomplished and you think that they can all fit into your day. Then your day happens.

As you get dressed, your shoelace breaks and you realize you don’t have any spares. You unthread one from another pair of shoes and go to make breakfast. You find that someone has used the last of the ground coffee and you have to grind some. There is no orange juice for your smoothie, so you have to hustle up some English muffins for breakfast. You find that the deli meat and tomato you were going to use for your lunch sandwich are gone and that means you have to buy something for lunch. All this combines to get you out the door a touch late and there is a bus stall on your way to work. You are late to work and that pushes back your first meeting. The meeting runs long. There is not enough time to complete the spreadsheet work you were going to do before you need to check in with the contractor working on the office. Lunch gets pushed back and you have to take additional time to go out and get food. All this shortens your afternoon and you absolutely have to be at little league practice (you’re the coach) or 16 kids will be standing around. Etc, Etc, Etc. By the end of the day, the resemblance to your morning plan may be only a passing one.

The same thing occurs when you attempt to plan your activities around your treatment regimen. Chaos has the same domino-like effect. It ambushed me just two days ago.

I had a fairly heavy day at work, packing and moving many boxes of books, rearranging inventory and working through floor plans for a 400,000-book sale. I felt all right when I got home, but I realized I had pushed it and decided to stay home instead of making a run to my studio. I knew that my wife worked late the next day and I could handle what I needed to do tomorrow evening. At 1:30 a.m. that night however, tired as I was, I was wide awake. I had to get some sleep and broke down and took a Trazadone. I took about an hour to work, so I managed to get 4 hours of sleep and woke up with a logy feeling from the sleeping pill. By the time I got home after work, I went right to bed and slept for 3 hours. I was still tired enough that I went to bed early and slept for 8 hours (as treatment veterans know, 8 hours sleep can be a miracle). I did not even manage to get much done at work much less do any of the small tasks I had hoped to accomplish in the evening. The lack of accomplishment that day affected the next and it is only now that I can plan to get what I wanted to do yesterday done tomorrow evening, if all goes well.

Planning is good, lists are good, notes to yourself to remember that you forget are good, but the best-laid plans can definitely be put paid by a bout of treatment-derived chaos…

Monday, August 30, 2010

Fatigue Vs. Normal Life

One of the situations that develop after an extended period of Hepatitis C treatment is the onset of a pervasive fatigue. It is not that you feel tired all the time, it is that your ability to bounce back after exertion becomes much more problematic. This reduced level of recuperation can also extend for several days after the event that brings it on. If you combine that effect with the fact that brain fog makes you forget you have this recovery deficit, it creates for some bouts of exhaustion that can take you completely by surprise.

This sort of fatigue is one of the most widely reported effects of long-term treatment on interferon. The drug seems to eventually saturate your cells at some level and large numbers of patients report effects ranging from extra tiredness at the end of the day, to barely being able to get themselves out of bed without exhaustion.

Several recent examples in my own case come to mind as illustrations of this effect. A few weeks ago I took a week vacation from work. I did not travel anywhere as my wife was working during my time off. I caught up on my sleep, my reading and did one project around the house that had been on my mind for about 10 years. (This is the nature of home ownership, after you do you initial renovations – in our case very extensive – you tend to let the small items slide until you just can’t stand it anymore). Our house has lath and plaster walls that are cracked in several areas and I made it my project to fix cracks in the entryway and stairwell. The first day took about 7 hours of scraping, filling vacuuming and cleaning. I was tired the next day, but it didn’t seem bad. It took about 4 hours that day to finish up and after cleaning and replacing rugs, etc. I felt good about getting the job done, finally. The following day I slept till noon, woke up tired, lasted till about 2 p.m., slept till 5 p.m., was able to stay up and visit with my wife and then was in bed at 10 p.m. and slept till 10 a.m. I was exhausted from the two days of physical activity that had gone before.

A few days after that I went to the baseball game referenced in this post. It was a long game, in mid-week and I followed it up by working the next day. The day after that, I again slept till noon, did a bit of reading and went to bed early in the evening. The mere fact of dropping a 10-hour day (which was primarily recreation) into the middle of the work week flattened me.

The final example occurred last week when I work five straight days instead of my usual four. This didn’t seem like a big deal to me and indeed on off day of Friday, I did not feel terribly tired. Saturday I went to a reunion of a group of folks I have know for over 20 years who used to take long weekends together in the California gold country. It was a relaxing day of eating, talking and sitting around on the deck. The addition of these 5 or 6 hours of excitement and attention to the extra-long work week left me out on my feet the next day. I found myself dozing off reading the paper; riding in the car and just about any time I sat down to take a break from our not-very-strenuous walk.

In each of these cases, I had completely forgotten the previous bout of exhaustion by the time the next one came on. If I had enough energy to remember the fatigue or enough memory to remember the lack of energy, it would make planning my exertions go much smoother…

Friday, August 27, 2010

Normal Life vs. The Brain Fog

The single most difficult aspect of Hepatitis C as a disease and of the treatment for Hep C is the combination of memory loss, concentration loss and cognitive loss known as brain fog. Hep C sufferers consistently comment that it is the most troubling and hard to handle aspect of the disease. Hep C itself has a side effect in many of its victims of varying forms of memory and thinking difficulties and when you combine the effects of the Hep C virus with the side effects of taking interferon you get the syndrome they call interferon brain fog. It affects all aspects of your life to one degree or another.

It goes beyond merely forgetting where your keys are or what the name of a movie you saw in the past is. It extends to trying to remember what you walked into the room to do, what it is you were trying to say a moment ago, what you were going to make absolutely sure you got done today or even what you sat down to write about. Perhaps the most troubling aspect of brain fog is that it can actually make you forget the fact you have brain fog, a classic lose-lose situation.

You forget that you have noticed very particular situations that you made note of in the past with an eye towards either avoiding in the future or not entering in to without a plan to make the situation go as smoothly as possible. You find yourself unable to concentrate even though you know you are in a situation that absolutely requires that you pay attention. You discover that you cannot think through and solve the type of problem that you have been able to handle in the past. It drives you to distraction and, unfortunately, you are already there.

This past week my wife and I went to the Roots of Impressionism exhibition at the DeYoung Museum in San Francisco. In the preparations to go to the show, it completely slipped my mind that since the beginning of my treatment crowd situations make me anxious and irritable. The show was only moderately crowded but shortly after entering the galleries, I realized two things: I was starting to get really jumpy and I had forgotten to bring along my Ativan which does a very good job of calming me down in those situations. By the time we finished our tour of the exhibition I was edgy enough that when some friends we had happened upon at the show suggested going to the café for a chat, I had to decline and head home to calm down.

As an aside, I think that the person who invented the audio tour for art exhibitions should be tarred and feathered. Bad enough in the normal sort of exhibition that you have to navigate around the clumps of people reading the labels and the explanatory posters, but at least their ebbs and flows are predictable. The people walking around with audio headsets on are a nightmare. They stop and start erratically. They make sudden turns and movements and they are completely unaware of the people around them. It is the same sort of behavior as automobile drivers on cell phones and just as much of a pain in the ass.

Returning to our previously scheduled disquisition…

Two days after the jaunt to the museum, a friend who had an extra ticket invited me to a Giants baseball game. I laid out a checklist for the game that included sunscreen and a long sleeve shirt to counteract the extra sensitivity to sunlight caused by interferon; several bottles of water, some fruit, and an extra T-shirt in case the fog came in and dropped the temperature 20 degrees. I forgot entirely that baseball games draw large crowds, especially on beautiful summer afternoons. The mere act of getting through the crowd to get to my, excellent, seat already had me twitching. I had once again forgotten to bring the Ativan that allows me to handle crowds more easily. The only thing that saved the day was that the people immediately on either side of our seats decided not to attend that day and there was enough extra personal space to let me relax. It was a great game, even though the Giants lost, but it could have been a really tough day.

You would think that the dodgy experience I had at the museum only 48 hours earlier would have left an indelible mark, but even that could not penetrate the fog…

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Heading Towards Undetectable

As I walked in the door from doing some grocery shopping today I picked up the mail which included my latest set of lab results (10 days old actually, but still the most recent I have). My viral load number is down to 310 IU/ml. Yes! Woohoo, etc.!

Since my viral breakthrough my numbers have run 40,000; 10,000; 5,000; 1500; 990 and now 310. In ten weeks I have achieved a log 2.2 reduction in my viral load. With any luck, my test this Wednesday will put me very close to undetectable.

Yes, it’s getting ahead of myself to think about hitting undetectable (under 47IU/ml by this test method) but optimism is what fuels successful treatment and I remain resolutely optimistic.

So there, the graph is going down, the interferon is hunting out and killing the remnants of the Hepatitis C viral horde that was infesting my body and now I am going to go take some drugs and watch a terrible Sci-Fi channel movie with my wife.

I hope your evening is as exciting as mine…

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Trophy Geezer

I was deep in the throes of TV inertia. Anyone who has gone through Hep C treatment or chemotherapy knows the drill. You are home from work, or have done some work around the house or have just managed to drag yourself through the day and you are tired and you couldn’t concentrate on anything to save your life. You flop (or gracefully settle) down onto the sofa, grab the remote and turn on television, the great savior of the addled, befuddled and fatigued.

Luckily, the brave new world of cable (or satellite or internet) television gives one an almost infinite set of choices of worthless time wasters to choose from. Celebrity Rehab: B, C, D and E list “celebrities” try to get off drugs and use the show to rebuild their careers at the same time; Holmes on Homes: Canadian contractor makes you feel that any work that was ever done on your home was probably both substandard and outright dangerous; Whale Wars: Sea Shepherd staff and volunteers demonstrate a belief that their self-righteous conviction to the cause of saving whales means they do not have to practice or prepare in anyway for their maneuvers until they are in the middle of the Antarctic Ocean (oh, and never bring any spare parts either); Comedy Central Presents: an endlessly supply of comedians you have never hear of doing the same 30 minute set on travel, life in the city, health and grooming habits, how their girlfriend-husband-wife-boyfriend are impossible and then the windup about the perils of sex; all these hits are available for your delectation.

The other day none sufficed until I flipped by John Stewart’s The Daily Show just as he was introducing his guest, Emma Thompson. The lovely Ms. Thompson is my favorite actress and the only woman intelligent, loony and sexy enough that I would leave my wife for her. She was delightful and indeed completely loony during the interview. She went on about the narcissism of Mary Poppins (she was promoting her new Nanny McPhee movie), the practice of raising British children in boxes and never letting them outside when the sun was shining and how she did her scriptwriting longhand and indeed only wrote one letter per page so that her finished scripts were huge stacks of paper. Okay, you had to watching – but I was and it was fabulous.

Later that evening I was describing this to my wife and, for the umpteenth time mentioning that Emma was the only women I would leave her for while adding that there was no danger the attraction would be mutual (did I mention certain saint-like characteristics of my wife), To which my wife replied why not? Why wouldn’t Emma Thompson find me attractive? Flattering I said, but I’m older than Emma, have bad teeth and thinning gray hair and am not a wealthy guy and movie stars generally go for the good looking fit younger sorts, especially if those sorts don’t have money (the trophy wife, boy toy thing). So she suggested that I play the anti-boy toy card. That I be the intelligent, amusing, somewhat eccentric older guy; that indeed, I be the trophy older guy.

That’s when it hit me. I could start a career as Emma Thompson’s trophy geezer, her partner in inspired, insane lunacy. She would have to pick up all the bills of course as whatever talents I posses have never led to money, but she can afford it. And to think, I have my wife to thank for this brilliant idea. My trophy geezer facebook page and twitter accounts should be going up soon as well as the trophygeezer.com website where you can sign up for courses on becoming a trophy geezer and share you experiences on the various trophy geezer forums. And I owe it all to Hepatitis C…

Disclaimer: The events, ideas and descriptions described in the above post may have occurred due to the interactions among the panoply of drugs I am currently taking in my treatment…

Monday, August 16, 2010

Feeling Better On Standard Of Care

Being treated on Standard of Care as opposed to in a drug research trial can make a big difference in your general feeling of health. It allows you to use drugs that directly counteract the characteristics of interferon and Ribavirin that depress your red and white blood cells. The use of Procrit to keep the hemoglobin level up and Neupogen to boost the white blood cell counts can have effects that go beyond the specifics of maintaining minimum levels of blood components.

Having more hemoglobin to carry oxygen around your body can mean a lot less shortness of breath after exertion. It can help your muscles recover faster and mean you can do more before you get that tired, wobbly-legged feeling. It also means that you feel a bit less fatigued overall and perhaps means that you don’t need quite as much nap time during the day to keep you functioning.

With higher white blood cell counts, you are less likely to suffer from minor infections and more able to fight off any illnesses, like cold and flu, that might be going around.

My own experience has been an example. Since beginning to administer Procrit my hemoglobin level is up to 11.4. This is higher than at any time since I began the drug study 33 weeks ago. I have definitely noticed that I am not as fatigued at the end of the day and that I can do more physical work without gasping and breathlessness. The down side is that I am not as exhausted a night which means falling asleep is even harder than normal leading to a bit more insomnia. No good result goes unpunished, I guess.

My neutrophil counts are consistently holding at around 800 since I started on the Neupogen. While I haven’t noticed a direct effect on my energy or mental state, I haven’t gotten sick since then either and I’ll take that result any time.

I am not noticing that either better hemoglobin or white cell counts have increased my ability to concentrate or improved my memory however. You might imagine that a bit more oxygen to the brain would be helping those sorts of things, but in my case you would apparently be wrong.

The other area the extra hemoglobin does help though is in the late-night laps around the house. I can walk a half-mile back and forth easily now before going back to bed and finally falling asleep…

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Which Side Effects Matter…and to Whom

When you begin the process of considering whether to apply for a research drug trial or enter treatment, one of the things that you give a lot of thought to is the side effects that accompany the various drugs you will be taking. These side effects fall into two categories, the side effects that are physical symptoms affecting your comfort level and the side effects that directly alter your body’s operating systems. Those two types of side effects matter in very different ways to you and to the doctors and/or researchers supervising your treatment.

Those of us participating in a study or standard treatment tend to be very concerned with how the treatment is making us feel. The doctors tend to be very concerned with how the treatment is affecting our body’s ability to function. These concerns definitely overlap, but the primary focus is very different between patient and doctor.

When the patient first examines the information about experimental drug trials or the standard of care treatment, they tend to focus on the potential side effects of the medications and especially the side effects that manifest themselves as physical reactions: nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, fatigue, muscle pain, dizziness, headache, rash, irritability, hair loss, sore throat, depression, confusion, itching, etc. The patient also generally makes a note of the potential long-term side effects like changes in thyroid function that may be permanent and the possibility of macular degeneration. A lot of the patient’s focus is definitely on the comfort related side effects.

The doctors are aware of all these as well, but primarily as an issue of whether the patient will be able to continue through to the completion of the treatment. Will some of these become so serious that the patient will have to discontinue either the study, if they are in one, or the standard of care treatment? Can they be managed successfully to keep the patient on course?

The set of side effects of primary concern to the doctors are the ones that directly affect the body’s systems: Anemia (low red blood cell counts), Neutropenia (low white blood cell counts), thyroid function changes, depression and insomnia. Anemia can put stress on the heart and circulatory systems and contribute to fatigue; Neutropenia affects the body’s ability to fight off infection successfully; changes in thyroid function can lead to a host of metabolic problems; depression and insomnia can both lower the body’s ability to fight off disease and function successfully. For the patient in a research study, the side effects just mentioned can lead to the doses of their meds being reduced or suspended to the point that the treatment loses its effectiveness. That is unfortunately what happened to me. For the patient under standard of care treatment the doctor may be forced to prescribe additional drugs to counteract those effects in order to keep them on the course of treatment.

It was interesting to realize, after the fact, that the long list of side effects I was originally concerned about, were not the ones most important to my successful treatment. The nausea, chills, headaches, dizziness, irritability, rash, back pain and the rest were not, in the long run, the side effects that negatively effected my treatment. The tremendous reduction in my white and red blood cell counts were what required the reduction in my medication doses that eventually caused the viral breakthrough.

There wasn’t really anything I could have done about it given the requirements of the research study, but it is interesting to note, that I was looking the other way, so to speak, while the virus slipped back in…

Monday, August 9, 2010

Going Camping With Drugs

Planning getaways and vacations while in a drug study or on treatment can be a bit of a challenge. As a primary concern, you need to plan your vacation around your dosing regimen, particularly if you have a regular cycle of side effects. For instance, if you have nausea or muscle pain or killer headaches at a predictable time after injecting your interferon you might want to wait to start your getaway until those effects have settled down. Who wants to be in a beautiful location feeling crappy if you can avoid that by timing your trip appropriately?

You also need to plan how you will ensure that you maintain your drug-dosing schedule. Depending on how long your trip will be and the number of drugs you are currently taking, you need to make sure you have the necessary amounts of drugs and the equipment to store them properly. If I am going to be gone for more than one week, I need to bring along (and have the proper coolers or refrigeration for) 2 doses of pegasys, 2 doses of neupogen and 2 doses of procrit. That is 6 syringes and enough cold packs to keep it cool for the necessary time frame as well as the appropriate number of ribavirin, celexa, folic acid and levothyroxine pills. And of course, the necessary sleep aids and painkillers should something flare up; do you really want to have insomnia in a tent, after all?

This is perhaps an over elaborate lead-in to our two day “camping” trip this past weekend. My wife and I met a number of old friends at a location called the “Coastanoan” on the San Mateo County coast south and west of San Francisco. It is a “low-impact” lodge development that has a couple of lodge buildings, a small number of wooden cabins and about 80 tent-cabins. A tent cabin, in this case, is a 10 by 12 foot (3 by 4 meter) wood-frame structure covered with waterproof, reinforced tent material. It has a bed, an electrical outlet, windows and a door. The facilities are in centrally located areas scattered throughout the campground and are the only heated buildings outside of the lodge structures. So, you have an unheated, semi-permanent tent like structure that you sleep in and you walk to the bathrooms and showers. They have outdoor fireplaces near the bath facilities and the usual barbeque and picnic areas. It is a short walk (crossing the highway carefully) to the beach.

I am describing all this so you realize that while it is called a campground you are not lying in a small tent, huddled in a sleeping bag with only a thin pad between your tender bottom and the cold ground. Oh no, you are on a futon in a full-sized bed with a HEATED mattress pad to keep you toasty through the chilly night. We were not exactly roughing it, but all those caveats I mentioned earlier apply.

I had to make sure I had injected 36 hours previous to leaving to make sure the majority of the interferon symptoms would be past. I had to bring all my other drugs and make sure I took them on schedule, not always easily when you are running around with old friends and their children. I also had to develop a plan of action to deal with the 3 to 4 trips to the bathroom I would be taking each night, and walking through the cold, foggy, damp night to the bathroom was not the plan I had in mind.

It all went remarkably well and served as a dress rehearsal for our 6 day trip next month to the higher and colder area around Yosemite. It all seems doable, but it requires extra planning and lots of extra blankets because the last thing you want is to catch a chill with a low white blood count.

I wonder if bears will break into cars to get Hep C meds…

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Walkin’ After Midnight

What with the general insomnia that the interferon and ribavirin treatment can bring about, combined with the pure nervous overload of my recent bout of serotonin syndrome, I have found myself pacing around my house in the middle of the night with some frequency in recent days. If I start at the back of the house and walk though the “breakfast room,” the kitchen, the dining room – such as it is, the living room and return on the same track, I walk about 90 feet. If I do ten laps it is 900 feet, twenty makes 1800 and 25 laps is just under a half a mile. It takes about 15 minutes to do 25 laps as I can’t really build up a lot of speed in the dark because the bruising on the shins becomes quite painful if one is not careful to watch where one is going. This pacing generally quiets down the leg jitters and twitches and tires me out enough that I fall asleep after going back to bed.

Unfortunately, I occasionally wake up and can’t fall back asleep necessitating another set of laps until I am tired enough to sleep through the night. Aside from toning up the calves nicely, these late-night peregrinations also allow one to review all the plans one once had for the house. That floor you were going to refinish; the cracks in the plaster that need patching, the new chandelier you were going to install in the dining room about ten years ago. There is nothing like the middle of the night to come face to face with all the grand, and unfulfilled, plans one had for your castle. It’s a good thing the lights are out or the number of flaws and not quite finished details would be overwhelming.

But then I climb the, squeaky, set of stairs to the second floor, climb into bed next to my (gently, gently) snoring sweetie, put my arm around her and think that the new paint on the stairway can wait awhile, it’s perfectly comfortable as it is.