#BootStompCancer Day 11: The Calm Before the Storm

How did you guys spend your blizzard? I was hanging out with my mom, Aunt Diane, and Nana (the latter of two who came down from New Hampshire on Monday) in the Westchester Medical Center getting ready for the next phase of this battle. When I left you last, there was the great news of no cancer in the bone marrow or the spinal tap. So why not continue with that?

Monday I went in for a CT Scan to check out the size of the swollen lymph nodes found in my neck, chest, and stomach. For anyone who saw me before I got admitted, the change in my neck was BEYOND visible. When the results of the CT Scan came back, it showed 60%-70% reduction in the masses! The proof was there; the small amount of chemotherapy given to me last week worked and that was all I needed to further boost my confidence.

Battle Ready!

On Tuesday, I was issued my first dose of Rituximab. For those who have never heard of this, it is a precursor drug to prepare my body for chemotherapy. According to the sheets given to me by my medical team is an "antibody that attaches to certain cancer cells & destroys the cancer cells". I was ready for another round of IV fluids. What I was not prepared for was the side effects. The feverish chills were almost too much. Within 30 minutes I was shaking, and that was with two wool blankets on. Fortunately, that subsided and I was able to handle the next four hours of infusion pretty well. 

Today was a rest day. I was disconnected from all IV fluids and allowed to roam around the hospital with my family. It was so nice to not have to worry about infusions or injections for a day and get back to a little bit of normalcy, like work (I know! I should be resting, but I love my job). I also learned what is going to happen when I do go home. Part of caring for myself includes daily injections to build up my bone marrow back to the levels needed to start the next round of chemo. I have never been that fond of needles, and I've never had to inject myself, so learning that is definitely going to be a process. Overall, it looks simple but I know I'm going to be a bit hesitant that first morning. That being said, the biggest is yet to come.

Tomorrow I begin the heaviest dose of chemotherapy. It will begin with another dose of Rituximab, as well as Vincristine, Methotrexate, and Leucovorin. These infusions will last almost nine hours and I've been warned that the side effects will be worse than what I've experienced before. I'm going to be very fatigued, and possibly very nauseous. However, I've been reassured by the wonderful staff here that they have the ability to help me through it all and that I will get through it.

More importantly, Thursday begins a stretch of four days of chemotherapy treatment. I'm going to get a different "chemo cocktail" for three days and then an injection into my spine before I can head home for the first time in more than two weeks. I don't think I can express how excited I am to get back to doing what I love and seeing all of you. I know that this is only Round One, but I feel ready to fight this disease and go the distance!

#JasperFam

Before I leave for the night, and potentially the weekend, I want to take a moment and again thank you all for the incredible support. From the Manhattan Jaspers softball team, to the HEADstrong Foundation, and of course all my family and loved ones, every day I am reminded that the fight against cancer is not a solo job. For now, as always, I ask you to donate your time/energy/money/whatever you can and keep those going through a much tougher fight than I am in your prayers. I love you all, I thank you all, and I'll update you when we have more to tell.

#BootStompCancer Day 8: Put One in the Win Column!

Anyone who has ever been involved in anything competitive will tell you: "winning doesn't come easy." It takes the right amount of preparation, the correct mix of your execution and your opponents faults, plus a little bit of luck. But most importantly, it takes patience.

I can remember my first season coaching Little League baseball when I was sophomore in high school. I was coaching my youngest brother Michael's U-12 team, as a 15 year old. We were AWFUL! We lost every game, and I actually got ejected in our season finale (but it never got recorded cause I argued a "walk-off"). Even with all the losses, the kids and the families seemed to have fun. They were learning the game and I never once focused on the losses. The next year, about 85% of the team came back, and we DOMINATED in our first game! It was a great feeling, especially when they dumped the water cooler on my head like we won a championship. I truthfully had not had a feeling like that until yesterday.

Ever since I was first diagnosed with Lymphoma on Dec., 9, I had yet to get a win. At first it was Hodgkin's disease, maybe the "best cancer" to have. Then, on Dec., 23, it became a very aggressive form of NHL that could have terrible ramifications. When I was first admitted on Jan., 16, we were told Stage 3 and possibly Stage 4; meaning almost double the length/intensity of treatment to get me back to where I was last summer.

Then, on Jan., 23, after constant asking and not getting a direct answer, I got one. The computer showed all negative results from my bone marrow biopsy AND my spinal tap! While the final result came on Saturday, that was a massive burden taken off my mind and my chest. I was so relieved to finally have a win under my belt.

I had been waiting on posting this update because I needed a moment of quiet celebration; first with myself, and then my family. This was a big moment for us. After nearly two months of news trending downhill, we finally got something that showed us it is getting better.

Finally got that first W!

It would be a lie if I said that I wasn't getting a little down with all the waiting and the uncertainty, but it would be a bigger lie to say that I had begun losing that positive attitude I have been trying to portray in my writing. The constant texts, tweets, emails, phone calls, and visits have been the highlights of my days. I truthfully cannot thank everyone enough and my biggest goal is being able to hug every single one of you once I'm back at work and doing what I love with the people I love!

So the big question with all the new information is of course: what does this mean? And here is the answer. This fight, although a life-long battle that I am ready to conquer, has taken a dramatic turn in my favor. Since there is no cancer in the bone marrow, or the spinal fluid, my staging allows for a much shorter chemotherapy regiment with still the same expected results.

I am going in for another CT Scan tomorrow to measure the tumors that they found last week and if the doctors like my progress, and anyone who has physically seen the difference in my neck (down to 6cm again!), they will. That means that I begin my second dose of chemo, but a much heavier dose, on Tuesday. This is where it gets real serious and the big guns come out.

The good news, again, is that this is the first of what will be four rounds of heavy chemo. Even better, if the plan goes as expected, my last round of chemo will begin March 31 and I will be discharged from the hospital for the final time around April 7!

For my family, that means as healthy a Christian as possible at my cousins wedding that following weekend. For me, it means that a) I can be in Albany, on the call, as the Jaspers defend their MAAC Championship and b) I can be as back to normal for my 26th birthday as I have ever been.

I know that this is not a battle that ends in April, or even when the words "Cancer Free" are spoken, if they ever are. This is not a battle that I fight on my own, but this is NOT a battle that we will lose. So many things are coming down the pipe that I have been talking about quietly with family to help continue the fight and once they are official, I can't wait to share it all with you!

Until then, as always, please continue to pray/give/donate for those fighting a tougher fight than I am as they need it more. I love you all, I thank you all, and I will update you when we know more!

And so it begins...#BootStompCancer Day 5

Once again, I have to thank you all for the support I have been getting. From friends driving up from Baltimore to see me, old college friends bringing stuffed animals and SpongeBob playing cards, to the Manhattan softball team purchasing customized wristbands, I truly don't know what to say. I know now that while I may be uncomfortable with all the attention coming my way, it is my duty to continue to raise awareness and help the ongoing fight against non-Hodgkins Lymphoma and I thank you all for helping in that battle as well.

Now, for the update you have all been waiting for! Saturday, Sunday, and Monday were very boring days. I went in for an ultrasound on Saturday on the large mass that has been growing on the left side of my neck (almost 11cm!) to make sure that it wasn't compressing on my carotid artery and preventing blood flow. That all came back negative and I spent the next couple days just hanging out and waiting for treatment to start.

Before the chemotherapy could begin, they needed insert what is called a Port. It is essentially a central line placed on the right side of my chest underneath the skin. It helps administer fluids and drugs through an IV, while also helping draw blood without having to be constantly poked and pricked. While the port was being implanted yesterday, they also did a spinal tap and a bone marrow biopsy. As someone who has had a spinal tap before, at a younger age, I have never been so happy to be under general anesthesia.

Fresh out of surgery, still doped up!

I woke up in recovery around 4 p.m. and was taken back to my room about 5:30 p.m. to possibly begin chemotherapy. We had to wait for me to get a little more hydrated before starting so I ate and got my first dose around 12:30 a.m. this morning. I received Vincristine and Cyclophosphamide intravenously and then Prednisone in pill form. Both IV infusions took about 15 minutes each and I was done around 1:30 a.m. and went off to sleep.

Getting ready for the port to be accessed and treatment to begin

This first phase of treatment, known as "The Reduction Phase", takes about six days and includes the two chemotherapy infusions I already received as well as daily Prednisone tablets. The Reduction Phase is a lower dose of chemo than normal because the tumor cells break down rapidly and release a lot of potassium and uric acid that can be damaging to my body so they want to start slow and see how I react before hitting me with the full dose next week. I've been comparing it to a military assault. This is the small task force that clears a house and rescues a hostage before the cruise missile blows it up.

First dose of chemo done!

Today, I got some small bad news (only because I'm already going crazy five days in). They are going to give me my second dose next Tuesday and that phase, known as "The Induction Phase" lasts over five days. That means I won't be able to go home until February 2nd (Super Bowl Party in the Children's Hospital!!).

I also received a little bit of good news. The fluid drawn from my spinal tap was clear, which is a good sign that the cancer has not reached my Central Nervous System. Before we can confirm that, we need the results from the bone marrow biopsy. If that comes back negative, meaning no cancer in the bone marrow, I will be placed in Stage 3 for NHL. If it comes back positive, with cancer, that puts me in Stage 4 and the treatment is longer and more intense. I'll post those results once I get them.

For now, I ask, as always, to give. Whether it be money, time, or positive thoughts, to all those suffering from cancer, especially the children I have started to meet and see. There are times where I hear them cry and it breaks it my heart, but all is healed when I hear them laugh again. These kids are the true fighters and quickly becoming my inspiration. I love you all, I thank you all, and I will update you when I have more info.

#BootStompCancer Day 1: WOW! Thank you all. Thank you.

Wow. That's all I can say. The incredible outpouring of support I received yesterday was beyond overwhelming. I shouldn't be surprised, like I said before; I have an army behind me. The amount of family, co-workers, and folks I lost touch with for years who reached out to me truthfully brought me to tears. I want all of you to know how much it meant to me and to ensure you all that not a single person who called/texted/tweeted/emailed/etc. was considered a burden. It was great talking to some people I haven't spoken to in a long time. Most of all, it was heartwarming to see all of that support on a day that disappointed me more than it probably should have. Thank you. So, without further ado, the update.

I was supposed to go in for a simple PET Scan, a full body scan similar to a CAT Scan but a little more inclusive, and it turns out I was in for a lot more. The first person I met was an oncologist who went over the exact form of treatment I would be receiving, the procedures we still have to perform, and the chances for success (still at 95%!!!). When I asked her about my timeline for Friday, she told me I was to be admitted to the hospital so we could start those other procedures. After calling my bosses, helping find a replacement for Manhattan's broadcast at St. Peter's, and speaking to some family, I was shown my new "apartment".

I was admitted to the Westchester Medical Center Children's Hospital (make all the jokes you want, they have Kool-Aid here!) and began meeting my entire medical team. The reason I was placed in the Children's Hospital is because many lymphoma treatments for children are just as effective in patients in their late 20's. In fact, some studies have shown that using the pediatric method of treatment for someone my age has a 30% higher success rate than the adult method!

As multiple nurses, physicians, attendings, residents, and oncologists made their way into the room to introduce themselves, I was given a little more of an update about what was next for me. I still had to complete a CAT Scan, bone marrow biopsy, lumbar puncture (spinal tap), and port insertion before we begin chemotherapy. They were unsure when the last three would take place but I was assured the CAT Scan would happen that night and was told not to eat or drink for four hours before.

So, after not eating all morning because of my PET Scan, Mom ran down to the Au Bon Pain in the lobby (yes, Hofstra friends, I got the Mac & Cheese) to get me something to eat. At about 5:30pm I was told not to eat again because the CAT Scan would happen in a few hours. Unfortunately, that didn't happen until about 1am and the first night of sleep wasn't that great either, but the first night in a new place rarely is.

Because the CAT Scan was done so late, and because I had the brilliant timing of being admitted on the Friday before a holiday weekend, the other three procedures probably won't take place until Tuesday. At that time, I'll have the bone marrow biopsy, LP, and port all inserted while I am knocked out (Hallelujah!!). We will give the port anywhere between 24 and 48 hours to heal before we begin chemo. Then, I'll be monitored to see how my body, and the 10cm mass on the left side of my neck (I think NASA took a picture of it yesterday, it's THAT noticeable) react. All told, I'll probably be here until a week from Monday, maybe longer.

With that being said; one of the best things (and I use that term loosely) about being here is seeing some of these children. I mentioned in my first post that there are people in much worse shape than I am. These are those people. The kids here are incredible though. Some have been receiving treatment for years yet act like they are oblivious to what's going on. The highlight of my day was a little boy in his superhero mask walking around the nurses station. When they asked where he was going he simply said, "Home!". It was incredible. So please. keep them, and others like them in your thoughts and prayers as well.

While I'm here, I welcome anyone who wants to to come visit. My mother will be with me most of the time so you can come meet her if you haven't yet, or come say "Hi" if it's been awhile. Feel free to text me for visiting hours and let me know when you want to come because I'm only "limited" to two visitors at a time. If not, keep those texts/messages/tweets/emails coming. It's great talking to you all! I love you all, I thank you all, and I'll update you again when we know more!

My New Year's Resolution? #BootStompCancer

I've been putting this off for a very long period of time. 37 days to be exact. I didn't really know why I kept delaying putting this out there for the "general public" until recently. Part of me didn't want to make a deal about it. Part of me thought it was a little too personal to be out there on the Internet. But,  the truth is, the majority of me was still trying to accept what I had known for nearly six weeks.

You remember the big moments in your life: graduation, first love, that big promotion. For me, December 9, 2014 will forever be the day I was diagnosed with cancer. What I thought was a routine check on my swollen throat turned into the most shocking and heartbreaking day of my life.

"You have lymphoma." Those three words, uttered to me over the phone by my doctor, shook me to my core and I truthfully don't remember the next few hours.

I do know it was a lot of holding back tears and Google. It was a phone call to my father, who had already been informed by my doctor, where the two of us were holding back tears while planning how to tell my mother and the rest of our family. That night was one of the toughest; sitting in my apartment, alone, just trying to research as much as I could about what was happening to me and what was about to happen.

The next day was worse. Knowing I had to wait until close to 9 p.m. to tell my mother in Texas was torture. Before I could even get the word out, we were all in tears. Over the next few days the word got out to other family members and calls kept coming in. To be honest, it got to be overwhelming.

On December 18, as most of you know, I had my infected left tonsil and a 6.5cm mass removed from my throat. The mass was biopsied and on December 23, while sitting in the Dallas-Fort Worth airport waiting for my connecting flight home for Christmas, the results came in. Just a few short hours later I crumbled into my mothers arms at the El Paso Airport and cried.

Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma is a form of non-Hodgkins lymphoma, and a very aggressive one. Over the last three weeks I have met with multiple doctors, nurses, and oncologists about my possible treatment and what to expect in the coming future.

DLBCL can be very dangerous, especially if not treated. Fortunately, this was caught early enough where everyone I have spoken to has put my success rate between 88% and 95%. The treatment is expected to be six rounds of chemotherapy, spaced about three weeks apart. While I have not yet begun my treatment, it will start in the next few days.

We kept the official diagnosis between the immediate Heimall family through the Christmas holiday and starting slowly telling extended family on December 26. I cannot begin to thank the family and loved ones, not friends; loved ones, whom I told before tonight. While this isn't as sensitive a topic as some other life-altering moments, to be able to keep this in my circle was an added bit of comfort.

To those who are just finding out tonight, I must apologize. This was something I would rather tell someone in person, but for some that was just not possible. As you can imagine, the last two weeks since my return to New York have been pretty hectic as well.

One of the things I have read over and over is the importance of an outlet during treatment. This blog will serve as that outlet, a chance for me to keep you all updated, and an opportunity to continue writing about what I love; sports.

This will also serve as just a small platform for the importance of cancer research and early detection. My health is directly related to when this was discovered. That being said, it could have been discovered sooner but there is no time nor need for the "what-if" game.

If you feel the need to do something, I ask that it be only one thing: donate. Whether it be money, time, or positive energy, it does not matter. But please do not limit it to me. There are so many more like me, and countless more in worse shape. Non-Hodgkins lymphoma is a deadly disease, but it does not have to be. I ask that, if you can, spend some time, and maybe some money, with Relay for Life, the American Cancer Society, the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society or, one very dear to me, the HEADstrong Foundation.

For those who do not know, HEADstrong was born from a former Hofstra Men's Lacrosse player in Nick Colleluori and the collegiate lacrosse community has turned it into something bigger every single year. As a Hofstra alum with mild ties to the Men's Lacrosse program, I plan to rededicate all I do for that foundation as well as others.

The other thing I've constantly seen is the need for a positive support system. I have never been more confident that I have that. Between family, loved ones, co-workers at both Manhattan College and the Rockland Boulders, and medical personnel, I have an army of positive energy around me.

So again, spend some time in thought or prayer for those who are suffering and maybe even spend some time with them. Even if that is all you can do, you will never know how much it truly means.

As I mentioned, this will serve as a chance to constantly and consistently keep everyone updated. I am scheduled for a PET Scan at Westchester Medical Center tomorrow morning where I will be staged and a full attack plan will be designed. My chemotherapy will done at WMC and I look forward to the announcement of me being cancer free to also come from there in a matter of months.

I can't wait to get back on the air after my scan tomorrow as the Jaspers visit St. Peter's at 7 pm and continuing to be their voice on the air throughout their title defense. The same goes for the Rockland Boulders. I look forward to being in the office on a consistent basis and helping them defend their championship.

This is what I love to do and this is what is going to help get me through what will only be a mild "highlight" in my life and career. I love you all, I thank you all, and I will update you when we know more.