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Ted McFerrin Story
February 2006
Ted McFerrin lost his courageous
battle with pancreatic cancer on August 17, 2007.
Background
I have been a Professor of English at Collin County Community
College in Plano, Texas since 1988 and am married to Carolina
Dizon McFerrin. I have one daughter, Laura McFerrin, who is 30.
On my 59th birthday, May 1, 2005, ironically, I went to my family
cemetery for the yearly decoration day. I was also making a decision
about where my grave would be located, although I had no indication
I would need it any time soon. I awoke with what I thought was
a severe kidney infection. By the next day, I had developed jaundice,
which worsened rapidly until my whole body was a bright yellow.
My primary care physician, Dr. James Hinton III, suspected gallstones
and referred me to the first of many specialists, Dr. Kenneth
Brown, a Gastroenterologist, and he and Dr. Goldschmidt performed
an ERCP. However, they found cancer blocking my bile duct. They
inserted a plastic stent to open the duct and relieve the blockage
and referred me to a surgeon, Dr. G. T. Shires, at Presbyterian
Hospital in Dallas based on my CT. I was told my condition was
very serious. I managed to finish my spring classes, helped by
substitutes, but was too sick to attend graduation, for the first
time in 18 years. I wanted to teach summer school, as I usually
did, but was too ill.
Treatment
In the next four weeks, I had two more endoscopic procedures,
with a metal stent replacing the plastic one and an EUS. There
was no evidence the cancer was spreading to organs or other sites.
My appetite was poor, and I felt sick at my stomach with pain
in my right side. I eventually lost over fifty pounds--over one
third of my body weight. On June 10, Dr. Shires attempted a Whipple.
I woke up out of pain for the first time in a month, but to bad
news. He was unable to remove the cancer because it was involved
with arteries. He did remove my gall bladder. After a week of
rapid recovery, I was discharged from the hospital.
I saw Dr. Shires for follow-up several
times, and was referred to North Texas Regional Cancer Center
in Plano. Drs. Robert Kirby and Jeffrey Greenberg, oncologists,
administered chemo and radiation treatment. My CA19-9 started
at 485. My radiation was each weekday for 25 days with 5FU on
the first four and last four days. I was afraid, and asked my
daughter Laura to drive me the first day. My tumor marker declined,
to 271, 57, and finally 41 after the treatments. I was hopeful
for another Whipple if the cancer declined in size, but the doctors
said it was not possible because of the cancer's size, shape,
and position. By the end of the treatments, I was too weak to
get off the radiation table unassisted, but was still able to
drive the few miles for treatment. I loved the feeling of some
independence and control.
I was nonetheless hopeful because the marker
was so close to cancer free, but Dr. Kirby told me that it would
be back, and my last hopes would be strong chemo and eventually
treatment trials. He said that I had six months to one year to
live. Weight came back to a high of 115 pounds of my usual 155,
but towards the end of the treatments I was getting weaker and
weaker and losing weight. The treatments ended August. 16, and
I had hoped to teach fall semester after the summer off. However,
that was not to be. After a hopeful start, I was feeling worse
and worse and weaker and weaker. My wife was worried that I couldn't
eat and seemed to sleep most of the time. Eventually, I got so
weak that I had to be helped up, like I was by the end of the
radiation treatments. I was admitted to Plano Medical Center
on September 20th.
Complications
I spent the next month very ill in the hospital, with two more
specialists added to my growing team. The stent had become infected,
and Dr. Kim put two drains in my liver for cysts that had developed.
Dr. Howard Kussman, of Infectious Diseases Consultation, infused
me with three antibiotics. A liter of liquid was drained from
my lungs three times. At times the prognosis was very bad, and
I was told I only had two days to a week to live. I was given
two units of blood and was so weak I was connected to a feeding
tube along with trying to eat as much as I could. Physical Therapists
worked with me twice a day to begin sitting up alone, exercising,
and walking again. For a time, I was diabetic and needed insulin
three times a day because of the feeding tube. I was anemic.
I was released from the hospital on October
14. The hospital social worker felt I should go to a nursing
home, but Dr. Kussman suggested my wife, who had spent every
night by my side in the hospital, could treat me at home. She
rolled me home in a wheelchair and rented a hospital bed. She
learned to change my IVs for the antibiotics, clean my drains,
give me an injection in my stomach each morning for blood clots,
and kept me clean and fed. For weeks she slept beside me on a
couch. I owe her my life and am very grateful.
Diet/Medications
Slowly, I regained strength, increasing
my short walks in front of the house. I tried to eat as much
as I could, and the Megestrol seemed to help. While not exactly
hungry, my stomach growled every two hours like a newborn. I
gave up coffee, tea, carbonated drinks, and alcohol because it
seemed like a good idea. I usually felt worse after eating, probably
exacerbated by lying down too soon after feeding.
At my yearly physicals, I had tried to
get Dr. Hinton to say I was in pretty good shape. The year before,
he said, "let's just say you're holding your own."
Looking back, it may not have been a good sign that my weight
had stayed exactly the same for two years, regardless of diet.
I was unused to taking much medication: only one pill per day,
first Pravachol and then Lescol, available in a generic for my
insurance, which brought my cholesterol down to acceptable limits.
So the many medications I now take has been a difficult transition,
but I'm getting used to it.
I was now taking hydrocodone for pain,
Protonix for digestion, warfarin to prevent blood clots, Pancrease
MT20 at meals and snacks for digestion, and Ambien, a sleep aid.
In addition, I was going between laxatives like Glycolax and
Dulcolax Stool Softener as a suppository, hydrocortisone acetate
and commercial products to ease painful hemorrhoids. I was also
experimenting with supplements like protein powders, Prosure,
Reliv, and Xango (mangosteen). These seemed to make the painful
hemorrhoids worse.
Support
My wife Lina has continued to me my primary
caregiver and support. She initiated internet research that found
useful resources, including this web site, and Pancreas-Onc@Listserv.acor.org, a chat line with
much useful information, as well as providing a sense of not
being alone with my symptoms, and hope from others who are inoperable.
The PALS Associate (Patient and Liaison Services) at PanCAN (Pancreatic Cancer Action Network) at
1-877-272-6226 has been very helpful, providing publications
and information--and even a purple ribbon to wear, to promote
awareness of our disease.
I decided in the beginning to make my condition
known at work, mainly because I knew of no other way to explain
my extended sick leave (from May 2005 to January 2006). I had
tried to teach the fall semester, in August. 2005, but was so
weak I didn't complete the first week. I was glad I did make
my condition public, though. The response was overwhelming, from
the President, Cary Israel, who was constantly attentive and
concerned, much more than I ever expected or deserved, given
his busy schedule; Vice-President of Academic Affairs Thom Chesney;
other vice-presidents; Deans; my Dean, Gerry Perkus; Faculty;
staff (Bill Kelly, Assistant to the Dean, stayed in constant
touch, helping with the tasks I could no longer perform and cheering
me on); and students. I received flowers, emails, visits, and
cards: I have just counted them, and I received over 100 cards,
with many signed with well wishes from whole departments. I can't
adequately express my profound gratitude. It helps so much to
feel that others care and are concerned. My family, friends,
and former shipmates (I served aboard the USS Harry E. Hubbard,
DD-748 in Vietnam from 1965-67 and had to miss our yearly reunion
in April) have also helped me through the difficult days and
nights and lightened my burden. We are grateful for the many
friends and relatives praying for us.
Conclusion
I realize like everyone that my life will
end sometime, but this illness has been a blessing in several
ways. I knew that I didn't want to die suddenly, without a chance
to prepare as much as I could. It has given me the chance to
return to active participation in church, which I had missed,
and reconciliations with family and friends as much as possible,
and settling affairs. This story is one of them. My wife asked
me why I was writing this now because we don't know how the story
turns out, or when. It's because I can.
In January I went back to teaching, provided
by the administration with a special schedule. I only have to
be on campus for two classes, on Tuesday and Thursday mornings,
with my other three classes online. I was out of sick leave,
and was encouraged by Dr. Kirby and President Israel not to retire
until I had to do so.
My last CT scan, in January, was hopeful.
Dr. Kirby said anyone who didn't know my past record would not
have seen anything wrong. My liver was completely healed, and
he did not detect any mass around my pancreas or anywhere else.
I visit the doctor once a month for lab work and a visit with
the doctor, keeping track of my condition. The bad news is that
the CA19-9 is slowly increasing, from a low of 41, to 53, 76,
and 125 on Jan. 30 2006, certainly not as bad as my initial reading
of 485. Last month, I also lost two and one half pounds, down
to 113. However, when I see the Doctor on March 3rd, we will
discuss beginning strong chemo.
Dr. Kirby has already told me the pros
and cons. He noted that I could choose to do nothing - since
I am enjoying a fairly good quality of life. In the past months,
my insurance company had also suggested Hospice, but I want to
fight and live as long as I can. Dr. Kirby said we could wait
until a mass develops somewhere, but noted that it would be harder
to fight. He said one advantage to treating now is that if it
is intolerable, we can afford to stop for a while or change chemos.
I am studying as much as I can to find about chemo combinations.
I think I want to start treatment now. My inclination all along
has been to fight this thing.
The end of my story, for now, will be the
first week in March when we discuss treatment options. Dr. Kirby
says eventually we will run out of chemos, but I've learned that
M.D. Anderson Hospital in Houston is aggressive in attempting
second Whipple procedures, and then I want to explore clinical
trials. I am not ready for that cemetery plot, yet. I set short-term
goals: I made Christmas, and now I would like to see my 60th
birthday on May 1st. Please pray for me as I pray for each of
you and your families.
As submitted by Ted McFerrin
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