The Nebraska Medical Center Cancer Center Blog

Superstar in the OR

Cue up the Michael Buble. Crank up the Sheryl Crow, Queen and Colbie Caillat. Turn up the lights, ratchet up the pressure, and prepare to witness a performance of epic proportions. This isn’t center stage at the Orpheum or center court at the Qwest Center. The audience is limited to a very fortunate few. This is the operating room at The Nebraska Medical Center. And the super-rock-star-athlete – the Michael Jordan/Justin Bieber amalgam in the middle of it all- is Dr. Jason Foster.

As a member of the hospital’s marketing and media relations team, I have the opportunity to be in the operating room from time-to-time to capture a wide range of life-saving and revolutionary procedures. We use these photos and videos for student, patient and public education - all with patient permission, of course. I always look forward to these days – I know I’m going to see something very few people will ever have the opportunity to see. But while I knew the procedure I was about to witness was unique, I had no idea what kind of awe-inspiring performance I was going to see from the surgeon.

Foster is one of a handful of surgical oncologists in the country who performs a procedure called Hyperthermic Intraperitoneal Chemotherapy, also known as hot chemo. It begins with the traditional removal of tumors from a patient’s abdominal cavity, and concludes with bathing the patient’s internal organs in a heated solution of chemotherapy to kill the microscopic cancer cells, which are likely still present.

The events that follow astonish many of the other medical professionals in the room. But Foster is unfazed. Foster is unflappable.

It’s a procedure that rolls several treatments into one – the surgery and chemotherapy happens all at once, instead of multiple surgeries and multiple rounds of chemo each time the cancer recurs. But not only is it unique, it is also time consuming. Scrubbed in, and with the modern day equivalent of a mix tape playing over the operating room’s speaker system, Foster makes the first incision at 8:30 a.m.

The events that follow astonish many of the other medical professionals in the room. But Foster is unfazed. Foster is unflappable. The hours tick by. Foster’s focus on the task at hand is as sharp as when he started. By the middle of the afternoon, Foster is still on his feet. There have been no breaks. There have been no signs of stretching tired back or leg muscles. By early evening, the surgical mix tape plays on, and Foster still hasn’t missed a beat. He calls out for surgical instruments in the same calm but assertive voice. He spends hours on one side of the patient removing cancerous organs and tissue, then slowly strides to the other side for a few hours more. Where most others would crumble, Foster is comfortable. Where some would panic, Foster perseveres.

It is now 10 p.m. and the meticulous removal of the cancer continues. Still no breaks – still no stretches. Other members of the surgical team have rotated in as others have gone home. But Foster remains. At 1:30 a.m. the following morning – 17 hours after he started - Dr. Jason Foster calls it a night.

He begins again roughly ten hours later. With the visible cancer removed, Foster pumps the heated chemotherapy into the patient’s abdominal cavity. For two more hours, the doctors assisting Foster shake the patient’s stomach back and forth – seeking out any rogue cells that could cause the cancer to recur. The entire procedure lasts nearly 24 hours. But Foster estimates it will give the patient another four or five years of life before a possible recurrence. In many cases, it will give them a quality of life they never could’ve had with traditional treatment. Let’s see Michael Jordan or Justin Bieber pull that off.

Taylor Wilson
Senior Media Relations Specialist
The Nebraska Medical Center

For media relations please contact Taylor Wilson Monday through Friday from 8:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. by calling (402) 559-7037 or contact us online.

To make an appointment with a physician at The Nebraska Medical Center please call 800-922-0000.

Why I’m Doing This – Part 2

I expected that having my head shaved would be an "experience." That was honestly one of the secondary reasons I decided to do it. As I explained in a previous post, my primary reasons were the same as everyone who donates their time and/or money to a cause like this: to move the ball forward on researching treatments and cures.

I guess didn’t expect it to be the moving experience it turned out to be. Maybe that’s a lack of foresight on my part, given the fact that this was a fundraiser for pediatric cancer research. I’d been to three St. Baldrick’s Foundation shave-a-thons before, but I suppose it’s a little different when you’re in the chair and have spent weeks hitting up your friends and family for donations.

It’s easy to get choked up when you hear about why people raised money for this cause and why they chose to get their heads shaved. With the exception of Dr. Bruce Gordon (who will be the first to tell you that nature has done some of the head shaving for him already), us full-grown men had the least to lose in terms of appearance. What impressed me were the women like 21 year old Anna Meneely who drove to The Nebraska Medical Center from Minnesota to have her very long hair cut off; and the children like eight-year-old Christina and nine-year-old Morgan.

Morgan’s mom Jenise decided to have her head shaved at last year’s event. She was there to cut hair not to have hers cut. Morgan liked what her mom did, so this year she joined in. Jenise and Morgan were the first ones here for the shave-a-thon. They were there waiting as everyone was still setting up; Jenise, Morgan, and a large jar full of cash Morgan collected for the cause.

Christina came because she had a friend at school who lost her hair because of cancer treatment. She saw some kids teasing her. That was all the motivation she needed. Hair gone, money raised, and hopefully less reason to tease a child who’s lost her hair through no fault of her own. Better still, Christina convinced her aunt who came to watch the shave-a-thon to go bald as well. Pretty amazing isn’t it?

 

It was stories like those which caused some of us to get a little choked up, including event MC Adrian Whitsett, a news anchor and reporter for KETV Channel 7. Adrian is one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet. He’s also an ex-Marine and Iraq War veteran, someone who’s definitely earned his tough-guy stripes. Hearing Christina’s story moved all of us. The event started with 12 "shavees" and finished with 22. Adrian’s charm and personality helped convince an additional ten people who just came to watch take a seat in the "hair chair" and go bald for the cause.

Supporting their father in the fight against pediatric cancer, Baltes’s sons Paul and James decided to shave their heads. And that’s why we did it - because fundraisers like this or for other worthy causes work on a number of levels. They help raise necessary money. They help educate and they help us to think of a world that’s bigger than our own. They help “regular” people like Morgan, or any of the other people who decided that words without action weren’t enough to be part of a solution. That feeling rubbed off on my own kids. They were just there to watch but after seeing two of Dr. Gordon’s patients taking turns shaving his head, and hearing some of the other stories of why people were involved, they both decided to go under the clippers. All three of us are temporarily bald, richer in experience, and a little more well-rounded. Especially on top.

Paul Baltes
Senior Media Relations Specialist
The Nebraska Medical Center

For media relations please contact Paul Baltes Monday through Friday from 8:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. by calling (402) 552-2282 or contact us online.

To find a physician at The Nebraska Medical Center please call 800-922-0000.

A Little Less Hair – a Little More Research

Working for a hospital, even in a non-clinical setting, I’ve seen a lot of things. And when I became a mom three years ago, I began to notice one such thing in particular - much more often, and with much greater intensity.

Sick children.

I read stories in our employee newsletter of our exceptional nurses going above and beyond for a child struggling in the PICU. When I am on my way to a meeting, I see a parent pushing his or her child in a wheelchair through the halls of the hospital for a change of scenery--probably hoping for distraction from the daily pokes and prods and pains of inpatient life.

And then, I came across patient blogs.

Some of these brave families share their experiences - good, bad, terrifying and beyond - in daily journaling and family photos. They celebrate the remissions and openly grieve the setbacks. They are personal, raw, engaging and impossible to ignore.

It’s easy to fall in love with these children - their will to survive, their warm smiles in spite of needles and tests, their love for life that is evident in even the sickest of eyes. Even their families take up residence in a special place in my heart. I imagine the mom is just trying to juggle hospital life and home, the dad searching for answers to the latest medical surprise.

My hair will grow back, ya’ll. A child who loses the battle with cancer will not.

A happy ending for each child and their family is what I wish for on a daily basis.

A few weeks ago, I was sitting in the waiting room at a doctor's office for my own minor medical inconvenience, agitated at the wait I turned to the distraction of scrolling through my Facebook news feed. I read that a little girl I have followed for years lost her fight to cancer. And I was stunned - numb.

How could she be gone? Just like that? How does a family go on?

I think the family blog said it best - "Words fail."

When I tucked my son in bed that night, I let myself read just one more book, or three, or five. I let him stall my exit with close to a million "What's that?!" inquiries. I looked at my healthy boy and thought of the family that would, without question, give anything for that one more book, that one more question - the family that lost those things when they said goodbye to their little girl.

Cancer is mean. Relentless. It is a word that strikes fear into even the most seasoned adult. Kids deserve days of wonder and exploration, not doctors upon doctors - candy (in moderation, of course), not chemo - a CHILDHOOD, not cancer.

My hair will grow back, ya’ll. A child who loses the battle with cancer will not.

If the money raised by the St. Baldricks foundation can give one more child a chance at a cancer-free childhood - or spare one more family the pain of losing their pride and joy - I'd say a little less hair and a little more research seems a most wonderful trade.

If you care to join me on the journey to baldness, please check out my page at http://www.stbaldricks.org/participants/mypage/participantid/469975. A donation to the Patient Assistance Fund at The Nebraska Medical Center can also support the families dealing with extended hospitalizations.

Every donation is one that can help build hope.

Jordan Maddex
Graphic Designer
The Nebraska Medical Center

To find a physician at The Nebraska Medical Center please call 800-922-0000.

Why I’m Doing This - Part 1

It’s a question I’m bound to be asked in the next several weeks.

"What happened to your hair?"

"Did you do that on purpose?"

"Why did you do it?"

"Are you OK?"

I’m fine. Which is why I’m doing this - shaving my head in the name of helping others who aren’t OK. Specifically, kids who are in the fight of their lives against cancer.

I’m not one of the many people here at the medical center who work directly to help these kids in their fight. There are lots of them. The doctors, the nurses, the techs and therapists and the child life specialists who give so much of themselves so that these children who are up to their necks in an intensely adult world don’t forget what it means to be a kid.

I’m one of the people who help to tell their stories. My job title is “senior media relations specialist.” I help reporters with stories involving our patient. I’m one of The Nebraska Medical Center’s spokesmen. I’m also one of the guys behind our Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube pages.

Less than a year ago I put together a video for our YouTube channel about a kid named BJ. A regular, happy kid who found out he had cancer when he was ten. The day I met BJ and his mom, he was finishing his last cancer treatment. His family was cautiously optimistic. He wasn’t in the mood to talk that day; eleven year olds can be like that sometimes. But he had a heck of a smile.

 

And now the hard part. A few weeks after I met BJ and his mom, he was back in the hospital. It wasn’t the cancer that was back, he’d just gotten an infection. Something most of us could fight off. But BJ couldn’t. He died at just eleven years old.

This will be the fourth year I’ll be at the St. Baldrick’s fundraiser. We usually have the news media there to cover the event, so I’m there to make sure they get all the information they need. At last year’s event, I thought, “I should do that.” After I met BJ and his family, I decided I would.

So that’s why I’m doing this. Because maybe the $1500 or so dollars I raise for the St. Baldrick’s Foundation will be part of what pushes forward a new or improved treatment. A cynical person might not believe new treatments will ever come. But those of us who work at the med center, or people who’ve been patients here know those advances do happen. There are people all around us working on them every day. Because of past advances in treatment (some very big ones developed right here at the med center), there are many thousands of people alive today who certainly would have died of cancer in the past.

On the surface, it’s just a haircut. It’ll grow back (though my wife has asked a few times, “What if it grows back grey?” I’m not sure what to make of that...). It’s also a chance for someone like me who isn’t “med school material” to be part of this effort. It’s not too late to join us. You can help the St. Baldrick’s Foundation through my donor page: www.stbaldricks.org/participants/PaulBaltes. If you’d like to support our patients going through this fight right now, The Nebraska Medical Center patient assistance fund is a great way to do that.

One last note about my soon-to-be-bald head; I just ask everyone who may be tempted pat me on the head, offer to shine it for me, or put sunscreen on it - please refrain. Or better yet, make a donation to the cause and I just might let you.

Paul Baltes
Senior Media Relations Specialist
The Nebraska Medical Center

For media relations please contact Paul Baltes Monday through Friday from 8:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. by calling (402) 552-2282 or contact us online.

To find a physician at The Nebraska Medical Center please call 800-922-0000.