We go in to the cancer center as we have for the last eight months. The receptionist is the same, the nurses the same. Some of the people are the same. There is one tight lipped fellow who takes his treatment with military bearing, ramrod straight, reading but no sleeping and never anyone accompanying him. Tough guy.
We start with the usual blood work. This time though the needle can’t find its mark. They have to search. Cindy is wincing. I’m about to pass out. I hold her hand as much for me as for her. It just gives me the creeps and hurts to look at it so I don’t. The nurse who is excellent, can’t find a good vein so she goes for a baby needle. That really creeps me out. They stick her in her hand for God’s sake! The blood is not moving quickly and I can tell it hurts. The nurse is apologizing and I am about to lose it. Damn my hand even hurts but Cindy just winces, no tears. Finally it is over, nice bruise too. No tears though, not a one was shed.
The doctor comes in and performs his examination and we wait anxiously.
“Fantastic, you look well. the tumor is just scar tissue now. Really below 1cm from what 6cm? Are you eating well?”
“A little bit.” (Liar)
“Are you stretching? Stretching is important.” , says the doctor.
“A little bit. Every morning when I wake up.” (Fibber)
“Getting plenty of rest? How about work how many hours are you putting in?”, he inquires looking over his glasses.
“I’m back up to a full schedule.” (Whopper, up to 60 hours now)
“Well I think we are through with chemo. We have done the 8 cycles.”
“What now?”
“We need to start you on hormone therapy. We will need to see you once per month for that and to give you something to strengthen your bones. This stuff robs you of the bone mass so we need to get you back up.” he says. Then he turns and exits searching for the nurse.
That’s it? No band, no parade no nothing but we are done? How do we know? How about the other tumors? How will we be able to tell if it comes back? Can anyone answer our questions? A little help here!!!
So we exit the exam room and head into the infusion room. She has to take the meds by IV and it hurts. Now the tears start.
“I thought I wouldn’t have to do this anymore.” She cries.
“I understand but at least your hair will start to grow back.” I never know if I say the right things but this one sits on the fence for a long time before falling into fair territory.
“Yeah, at least that.”, she says and cries.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Back to School
We send Sam back. When we first sent him off there were enough tears to fill a room. This time we wait until he is checked in, eat at a restaurant in the terminal and spend a few moments. There is a lady who has a yapping little dog. Sam cringes.
“Man I just know she is on my flight and sitting next to me. What happens when the thing won’t shut up? What if she decides to let it out of it’s cage and it craps on my seat?”
The lady enters the gate to get on a flight to Israel. Sam thinks he has dodged a bullet.
We finish and walk around for a bit then it is time for us to go. JFK sits on the opposite side of Manhattan and rush hour starts soon. We have to get to the other side.
This time there are no tears. We say goodbye and leave. It is good to see him come home and good to see him leave home too.
“Man I just know she is on my flight and sitting next to me. What happens when the thing won’t shut up? What if she decides to let it out of it’s cage and it craps on my seat?”
The lady enters the gate to get on a flight to Israel. Sam thinks he has dodged a bullet.
We finish and walk around for a bit then it is time for us to go. JFK sits on the opposite side of Manhattan and rush hour starts soon. We have to get to the other side.
This time there are no tears. We say goodbye and leave. It is good to see him come home and good to see him leave home too.
Christmas Day
It is a great day. The kids are happy, family calls, the meal is good and life can get no better. Enough said, just enjoy it.
December Chemo
We go in for chemo. It is the usual which starts with facing the ladies behind the glass who take your name and then grab the chart, tell you to sit down. I look out around the room and it is filled with people either entering into the process, in the grip of it or coming out the other side. I saw a guy there who brought his kids. Man if that doesn’t scare them then nothing will. “Geez yes Mom I will eat those brussel sprouts. I don’t want to end up like Dad.” I bet it is more like “Did I do anything to make Dad so sick?”
Her name is called and we go to get blood drawn. If your white cell count is too low then you can’t get chemo. There is an irony there, being too sick to take treatment which is designed to nearly kill you to make you better. Anyway the blood is drawn and we are escorted to an exam room while the lab work is done. As we pass by there is a lady who is in an adjacent exam room. The door is open and I catch a part of the doctor’s lecture to her.
“You should start to lose your hair in3-4 weeks. You should probably cut it short so it isn’t such a shock. Hats are a necessity to keep your head warm.”
I remember those words. She has a little smirk on her face and her husband stands next to her and he is white as a sheet with the deer in the headlights look. He is living a nightmare and his wife is smirking at the doctor like it is a joke. Man, just wait lady and mister you better get your act together quickly. You two have no idea.
I think that guys whose wives or significant other is just beginning to walk down that road need somebody to be a guide for them, sort of an escort through hell.
The doctor says that things are really great. It is mostly scar tissue and the other tumors are probably in serious decline. That is all good news. He sets her up for chemo and a new appointment. We are a bit confused. Isn’t this the last one? What then? He has no time.
The chemo seems to take forever. Cindy is sleeping and a lady comes in and takes her place in a chair. The nurse greets her and then looks at her chart. The conversation that follows is a spirit killer.
“ Did you speak with your insurance carrier?”
“ No what’s wrong?”
“This treatment isn’t covered.”
‘What? You’re kidding.”
“No, you need to call your doctor’s office.”
The conversation continues and the lady leaves to sort things out. Now imagine if you will that you are faced with a threat and someone denies you the only alternative and solution to that threat. That is academic enough so think about this. You could die without the treatment and you can’t have it because your insurance carrier won’t pay for it and without it you need to come up with $3-5000 now. It may be fair under the rules but it is inequitable and I hope there is a particularly hot corner in hell for the insurer.
Her name is called and we go to get blood drawn. If your white cell count is too low then you can’t get chemo. There is an irony there, being too sick to take treatment which is designed to nearly kill you to make you better. Anyway the blood is drawn and we are escorted to an exam room while the lab work is done. As we pass by there is a lady who is in an adjacent exam room. The door is open and I catch a part of the doctor’s lecture to her.
“You should start to lose your hair in3-4 weeks. You should probably cut it short so it isn’t such a shock. Hats are a necessity to keep your head warm.”
I remember those words. She has a little smirk on her face and her husband stands next to her and he is white as a sheet with the deer in the headlights look. He is living a nightmare and his wife is smirking at the doctor like it is a joke. Man, just wait lady and mister you better get your act together quickly. You two have no idea.
I think that guys whose wives or significant other is just beginning to walk down that road need somebody to be a guide for them, sort of an escort through hell.
The doctor says that things are really great. It is mostly scar tissue and the other tumors are probably in serious decline. That is all good news. He sets her up for chemo and a new appointment. We are a bit confused. Isn’t this the last one? What then? He has no time.
The chemo seems to take forever. Cindy is sleeping and a lady comes in and takes her place in a chair. The nurse greets her and then looks at her chart. The conversation that follows is a spirit killer.
“ Did you speak with your insurance carrier?”
“ No what’s wrong?”
“This treatment isn’t covered.”
‘What? You’re kidding.”
“No, you need to call your doctor’s office.”
The conversation continues and the lady leaves to sort things out. Now imagine if you will that you are faced with a threat and someone denies you the only alternative and solution to that threat. That is academic enough so think about this. You could die without the treatment and you can’t have it because your insurance carrier won’t pay for it and without it you need to come up with $3-5000 now. It may be fair under the rules but it is inequitable and I hope there is a particularly hot corner in hell for the insurer.
December
December
Sam came back today. It is always good to see him both coming and going. At 21 you are all about yourself and your needs. It goes without saying. It is still hard because he needs the attention.
We have one more chemo left and it comes just before Christmas. We then descend down into the tiredness and fatigue. It finally gives up its hold on her after about ten days which is just in time for the next round.
Almost all the presents are purchased and once again we have spent liberally. I don’t think it portends any hollowness or lack of spirituality. It is just a way to give to the kids. The season is not so great anyway to me. I have a long rant about Christmas that shows my general disapproval of celebrating a high point of worship by commercializing it. I think it is the end of the year that does it more than just Christmas.
It bothers my love and I am sure it rubs off on the kids. My psychiatrist says it is normal to a degree but it also is because I am coping with too many stresses – life threatening disease, reconciling with death, demands of the kids to live and live vibrantly. Perhaps he is right. Everyone around me says I need to be on antidepressants. I disagree. The key to it is not a little pill but the end of the threat or my reconciliation to it. Neither is happening any time soon.
Sam came back today. It is always good to see him both coming and going. At 21 you are all about yourself and your needs. It goes without saying. It is still hard because he needs the attention.
We have one more chemo left and it comes just before Christmas. We then descend down into the tiredness and fatigue. It finally gives up its hold on her after about ten days which is just in time for the next round.
Almost all the presents are purchased and once again we have spent liberally. I don’t think it portends any hollowness or lack of spirituality. It is just a way to give to the kids. The season is not so great anyway to me. I have a long rant about Christmas that shows my general disapproval of celebrating a high point of worship by commercializing it. I think it is the end of the year that does it more than just Christmas.
It bothers my love and I am sure it rubs off on the kids. My psychiatrist says it is normal to a degree but it also is because I am coping with too many stresses – life threatening disease, reconciling with death, demands of the kids to live and live vibrantly. Perhaps he is right. Everyone around me says I need to be on antidepressants. I disagree. The key to it is not a little pill but the end of the threat or my reconciliation to it. Neither is happening any time soon.
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