Three Days Gone By

This week has flown by. The time it takes to work, visit Dad, take care of other little errands and whatnot, eat up my days. Here it is 9:00 p.m., and I am slowing down for the evening. My days have started with early meetings as well. Yesterday I took off to go to the oncologist with you but went into work at 7:30 a.m. to meet with a tech person to set up my class webpage. I wanted to get it done then and there but that isn't quite the way my tech friend wanted to do it. He doesn't understand how a little glitch in remembering directions can totally unglue me. My webpage will go up but it will be perfunctorily done, at least for the time being. Human Resources called while I was there and screwed up my sub. They sent someone who hates kindergarten and hasn't really had a good time subbing for me in the past. I knew there was a reason I shouldn't go in when I've called for a sub.

Ah, the oncologist! The much-awaited appointment came, and we were there with our typed-up questions and tape recorder. We were introduced to the term 'standard of care'. Hmmmm, it's the one thing that stuck in my mind and made me just the tiniest bit uncomfortable. When the doctor said she used the 'standard of care', did she mean that was a bare minimum? Did she mean she wouldn't try anything edgy? Did she mean she wouldn't knock herself out to help you? She did spend a lot of time with us. She did sound as if she really cared. She did sound like she likes her work and is committed to it. But, like all others except the folks at the Wellness Community, she did sound like you are going to die soon, you have a death sentence, and she will use the 'standard of care' to slow it down. Gemcitibine is to be combined with Tarceva. I'm sure I will learn a lot more about these as time goes by. The treatment is not so much about the tumor size but how it affects the patient's functioning. She has had patients live outside the norms but not really any who have lived more than five years. It doesn't mean you won't be one. For practical purposes, you are about a stage 3 or 4, mostly because your tumor is inoperable. She worries about you getting blood clots and she wants you to keep your legs moving a lot. Blood clots! What does that mean? You will do three weeks on and one week off, going on Thursdays for a half-hour treatment. You will take Tarceva in pill form every day. It has a cumulative effect. You should be feeling quite the impact by the time Christmas comes.

We had a meeting with the head chemo nurse. She didn't want to be recorded. She told us what to expect and gave us a tour of the chemo room. I looked at the people in it. Did they look sick? Did they look thin and gaunt? Did they have circles under their eyes? Did they look nauseous, deathly-ill? No, they all looked very healthy and well-fed. Maybe you won't vomit; the doctor and nurse said it isn't a common side effect of this chemo. The only things they stressed were the fatigue and low white-cell count. As we spoke with them, I started doubting that we'd be able to go to Idaho. We would be too far from medical care, your white cell count will be low, we're supposed to avoid crowds and airplanes are notorious germ pools. I think there's going to be another holiday screwed up.

When we got home, you started feeling coldy. Wait! How could you get a cold? I've been well for two weeks! Who did you run into? Where did you go? You had a CT scan today, Wednesday, and you will go in for your first chemo treatment tomorrow at 2:00, even with your cold. I will leave work early to go with you. I don't know how this will impact your body within the next few days. I am nervous. Will this be the beginning of a really bad time for us?

Dad is in the Health Care Center. He moved rooms so now he isn't with a crazy former army colonel who yells that his wife needs a wheelchair. He is sharing a room with the president of the residents. He must be likeable. At least I hope he is. Dad really wants to come home. I keep prepping him that he needs to keep the door closed and leave you alone. He has always thought that if he didn't like someone, or they didn't like him, he could just be nice to them and 'kill them with kindness'. He doesn't get you. You want and need to be left alone, especially now. You don't need 'How are you?' 'What are your plans?' etc. It serves as a further annoyance to you. This makes me so nervous, and I find myself worrying about it a lot. You are using your cancer as the trump card for Dad. If he bugs you, I will have to find him a place to say, you say. That's funny because I remember telling you that the only thing that would push me over the edge would be if I had to run here and there to visit you and Dad. This is still eating at me. The one thing I told you would mess me up, and you are pushing for it.