Test results are in

After several days of angst and may days of silence lost in thought, we finally met with Dr. Birhirray this morning to find out the results of Roger's CT scan.  Dr. B, who is an upbeat friendly guy anyway, was positively glowing.  He announced upon entering the room that he had good news for us!  The tumors appear to be shrinking from the chemo (chemo is kicking cancer's butt!!).  It looks like all of the tumors have been responsive and the nasty poison we call chemo is doing its job.  Roger's blood work all looked good. I've got a copy of the test results and will try to translate from medical-speak to mere mortal-speak to make sure we understand everthing.   The morning is off to a good start. 

After talking about the test results, we covered how the last treatment went (HORRIBLE) and how Roger has been feeling lately.  Dr. B thinks part of the reason Roger has felt crummy over the last several days may in part be due to the anxiety of getting the test results.  We both agree ...that probably had a lot more impact than we realize.  As for the really bad days from chemo, Dr. B said we are going to try reducing the dosage of the chemo in an attempt to increase quality of life.  He doesn't believe it will negatively impact the effectiveness of the treatment but does believe it will give more "good" days and less "bad" days.  It was interesting. As Dr. B made the suggestion, Roger challenged the approach saying he didn't want to reduce the overall effectiveness of the treatment even if it means he feels like sh#t for several days.  Makes me smile to hear the tenacity especially when I painfully remember him saying two weeks ago (during one of those really, really bad moments) that he didn't think he could continue with the treatment much longer.  This is part of the roller coaster ride.  There are actually two roller coasters....one the patient is on and one the caregiver is one.   The caregiver hears and absorb everything the patient says.... the good, the bad, the ugly.  Many times, the patient doesn't remember saying or feeling that way.  In this case, Roger doesn't recall saying he would ever consider stopping treatment.  So many lessons to learn a long the way.  Much of it is based in an exercise of tenacity....tenancity of the patient to endure the un-endurable (a word?) and tenacity of the caregiver to give care, listen, absorb, and when appropriate...forget.

Roger will continue with chemo for 12 treatments.  I anticipate this will carry us through the end of the year.  Its staggering to know the journey started 2 years ago and has never really changed or improved much.  Likewise, its hard to reflect back knowing how outwardly health, happy, and CHUBBY Roger was when the cancer was discovered by chance... and knowing where we are now...all in the pursuit of a longer life.  What a contradiction, right?  By all outward appearances, 2 years ago, Roger seemed healthy as a horse.  Drank too much, ate too much, lived a FULL life.  He goes into treatment for cancer and now he no longer eats or drinks (let alone too much) and has a much more sedate life.  So, I don't really allow myself to look back that much.  The past is the past.  Now is where we are and now is all that matters. 

We had a funny moment this morning once we moved to the infusion area.  As Denise, Roger's nurse, was getting his meds and fluids set up and hooking up his IV, Roger was sharing with her the positive test results.  I had stepped away to fetch a blanket and pillow for Roger.  Upon returning, Denise turned to me and said "I hear we have good news!  there is shrinkage!"  I responded that shrinkage for cancer IS good news...but shrinkage anywhere else ...NOT good news  for a man, and fortunately Roger wasn't experiencing that kind of shrinkage.  Hell, I don't know where that came from but it just blurted out of my unfiltered mouth (its much more the kind of thing Roger would say).  As the laughter and giggling around us picked up from the neighboring chemo patient and her brother, and Denise, I realized what I said.  Roger was pink with laughter.  Opps!  honestly, it just came out.  I offered apologies.  The patient's brother  across from us laughed and said, "oh no.  Man. She just gave you a biggest and best shout out a guy could get!" Oh, lord.  what have I done?

With the buzz of conversation in the back ground, and twenty some-odd IV poles standing like flag poles throughout the infusion room with different chemo banners waving, Roger is dozing away waking periodically to lift his drooping head or startling himself awake from snoring.  We are on the road to chemo hell - should reach bottom on Saturday.  And as before with every other treatment, climb the way back out Monday and Tuesday.  I am scheduled to attend a company conference in Miami this coming Wed - Fri.  Am playing it by ear depending on how things go with chemo. 

Keep your fingers crossed for my hubby and keep sending all the good positive thoughts his way.  They are working!  much love, a