Chapter 08: Bern Baby Bern's

Chapter 8: Bern's Baby Bern's; 

or 

Making the Most out of a Second Opinion

Once the radiation treatments were done in mid September, it was time to take a break.  The two doctor's decided I should wait at least 2 weeks before continuing with any additional treatments.  Dr. P had identified several clinical trials; some involving chemotherapy, some immunology, some combinations of chemo and immuno drugs.  Florida has more cancer clinics than any state in the union, and also arguably among the country's best.  I asked Dr. P if he would mind if I got a second opinion, and he said he would welcome it, and told me to choose where I wanted to go.   I had lots of choices, like Florida Hospital Cancer Institute, Morton Plant Hospital, St. Joseph's Hospital Cancer Institute, the Moffitt Cancer Center just to name a few.  I chose carefully with some pretty particular criteria.

1. Reputation - The Moffitt Center is the number 1 rated cancer research facility in the this part of the country. No brainer there (sounds kind of funny considering I'd just had a brain tumor removed - tee hee).
2. Wait time - They could see me during the two week break before treatment was scheduled to begin.
3. Insurance restrictions - Of course they won't tell you until the day before you go, but I did manage to wrangle an approval via my extremely helpful case worker.  I'm not being sarcastic; shout out to Marian in Cleveland.
4. Location - Since all of the facilities were at least 2 hours and less than 4 away by car, this really was not a factor. We had already decided to spend the night so that I would didn't have to get up and travel to an appointment that I was told could last as many as 3 hours.  
5. Location - Given #4, a suitable hotel within proximity to Moffitt and a decent restaurant.  I mean, why not make a party out of this adventure? 

Monelle said she would go with us to help with logistics, etc. We put her in charge of hotel and dinner reservations.  She chose well!  The Epicurion hotel, located almost directly across the street from Bern's Steakhouse.  If you haven't been to Bern's, everyone should go there at least once!  You get to tour the kitchen and wine cellar.  There are some 600,000 bottles in their cellar at one time; the most expensive being $30,000.  They age their beef on the premise. It is by far one of the best steaks I've ever eaten, and among the best dining out experiences of my life.  I think they had many other choices on the menu, but if you go to the oldest steakhouse in Tampa, do you really want to eat soup and a salad?  NO, I say. NO.  Where's the beef?

  

The next morning we ate breakfast and checked out of the hotel, then headed to the Moffitt Center.  It was a very impressive facility and extremely efficient at getting people in and out.  They also employ what appear to be middle-school aged kids as doctors.    I'm going to summarize the findings here to just say that the Doctor at Moffitt agreed 100% with Dr. P's recommendation to shoot for a specifically identified clinical trial.  They were both concerned that I might be precluded as a participant because of my previous bout with melanoma.  They tried very hard to get me in, but in the end the study stood fast and said no exceptions; a participant cannot have any history of cancer to be included the study.  There was another study identified, but the requirements of that one were that the patient could not be "chemo-naive".  In other words, we had to have a failed chemo under our belts before I qualified for something that had a snow-ball's chance at succession.  The doctor's all put their heads together and made me an appointment for 2 weeks later, allowing me to rest up more from the rigors of radiation; and also from beef overdose.  

A break might sound like a good idea, but the reality of the situation was that I knew there was this terrible disease hanging out in various parts of my body, and all I wanted to do was to stop it from growing.  Well, truthfully I wanted them to cure it, but I know that is not realistic.  There is no cure; we just have to manage it.  Waiting is sometimes a necessary evil; like waiting between scans to measure growth or decline in tumors and such.  Pure agony.  I don't generally sleep for the last week before the next scan, or before any tests that measure the progress of the disease.  It's terrifying to lie in bed and not be able to turn off your brain to the negativity that creeps in.  I get very down at times looking at the prospects for my future.  But then I remember all my supporters and family and it lifts me.  My friend Dean said once that I amazed him.  He said "Where others would wilt, you rise up."  Shout out to Dean.  Love you, buddy.