My miserable excuse for an esophagus hosted a tumor the size of a good cigar, terminating in the upper part. The metastasis was in the lymph nodes. I had this big one on my neck that stood out like a misplaced voicebox. Originally I was told surgery was out of the question (although one highly-regarded hospital in NYC helpfully offered to remove my larynx) so, being 63 at the time, I was given chemo to reduce the tumor, with the promise of radiation afterward if the tumor started to shrink. I didn’t get Keytruda, but I got a lot of other stuff, namely: Fluorouracil, Leucovorin, Dexamthasone, Oxaliplatin, Fosaprepitent, and Palonosetron. (There, I just listed everything…but one or two of those probably aren’t chemo-things.) The Oxaliplatin was the only one I eventually couldn’t tolerate, so I had as much as the doctor thought prudent. Turned out this combo had done the trick — that and the fact that I had a G-tube and was putting only fruits, nuts, and vegetables (plus a protein powder) into my belly. Well, after putting that stuff through a blender.

My onco told me the tumor had shrunk and that radiation was the next option. You would have thought I won the lottery: Yay, I get radiation! 25 visits later, there was no cancer evident. My neck is back to normal. My esophagus is busy enjoying its perfidious relationship with the scar tissue in my esophagus — the scar tissue that blocks even curious bacteria that think maybe they’ll find some Tunnel of Love in my upper esophagus. Not happening.

I’ve learned to love my little tube. It keeps me alive and it, not being biological, won’t decide to suddenly turn on me and threaten my life.