Three days down...approximately 10 to go...(ugh)

Today, Roger completed radiation treatment number 3.  A "routine" is setting in or at least as much as one can.  The actual treatments are much quicker now that the set up is perfected.  Literally, now when Roger goes back for treatment, he is gone about 7-10 minutes total.  No pain.  Yes, discomfort and some odd or perhaps more accurately described as unique reactions. Roger says he can "taste" the radiation AND he sees a blue light (with his eyes shut) when the radiation is being administered.  The radiation oncologist said this doesn't happen often.  Most people *don't* see or taste anything.  There are a few who do but its more the rarity.  There is no harm to it but mearly the body's neurological system responding to the radiation. 

Roger said his skin is starting to feel sensitive and hot.  I've noticed its starting to get a little red.  We anticipated this would happen but expected it would be sometime next week.  Not this week.  He will have to start wearing a hat with a brim all the way around it to protect the skin around his ears and the back of his head.  My dad and mom bought him a gorgeous "Indiana Jones" type hat to wear.  So, he's covered there...as long as Mr. Stubborn will wear it!  Additionally, as of this evening, Roger is feeling fatigued.  Now this may be because he was busy with projects and running errands today...but I think its probably the radiation.  He is fast a sleep on the sofa across from me and has been snoozing for the past 45 minutes and he hasn't even taken his evening medicine which is what normally knocks him out.  So, when he wakes he'll have a slew of medicine to take and then we will eventually shuffle off to bed. 

And speaking of medicine, we think we finally  have his pain management under control.  His fentynal patch dosage has been increased and now he is taking oxycodon instead of hydrocodon which allows him the ability to take it more often.  And finally, finally, the first time in years he doesn't feel pain.  Obviously it could be the fact the dosage is dialed up. Regardless, we'll take the peace it provides.  We have figured out the medicine dance to get him 3-4 hour chunks of sleep, which for him is like the rest of us sleeping for two days straight.

Lest you think the Wethington black-cloud of bad luck has moved on, thought I share our most recent little mishap.  When we got home from radiation last night, we each set about doing our own thing.  Roger went to the basement to check on something he had been painting.  Next thing I know, I hear the sound of the shopvac.  I go downstairs to see Roger sucking up the mini-lake which had formed in the basement.  Apparently our outside faucet froze sometime this winter.  Well, when I watered my plants in the courtyard this past week, I turned on the faucet...and thereby created a lake in the basement.  Awesome.  Fortunately, this great young guy, Eric, who has worked with Roger for many years was coming over today to help with some of our many projects.  Eric has been a godsend for us in helping knock out all the various projects we, or rather Roger has.  Well, instead of tackling one of the previously scheduled projects...Eric repaired our indoor lake-builder.  Really, can you  believe the luck?  It wasn't even that cold this winter.  Whatthehell? 

I meant to share this with you earlier in the week.  We had an amusing (well maybe not so amusing) moment when down at my parents' river house last weekend.  We were sitting on the back porch watching the river flow by when we heard the "pa-thunk" of a bird hitting the window of the neighbor's house.  We both looked and saw a robin dart off and then immediately looked to the ground to see if we could see the dazed other robin.  Instead we saw a bird sitting on the ground looking around as if nothing happened...and a bunch of feathers in the surrounding area.  Hmmmm.  I asked Roger if he thought the bird was just a little confused.  He paused for a moment, contemplating the response and replied, "um no.  He is perfectly fine.  The robin underneath him...isn't doing so well."     WHAT?!?!?!?  No!!!!!   In my little make-believe world, there is no survival of the fittest, none of this food chain nonsense.  Right right.  I know I am being a hypocrite because I sure do love a hamburger or steak.  But whatever!  I did NOT need to experience this little display of the Wild Kingdom.  Now, poor Roger knew what was in store...and therefore thought before responding to me.  He knew, there would be a series of mental gymnastics accompanied by the verbal manifestation by me... " I should go over there and save that Robin.  I should chase that hawk away....oh, but if I do that, do you think the Robin is hurt?  Oh, no.  What if it is hurt?  Then what do I do?  Mouth to beak resuscitation?  Oh no. This isn't good!  Oh no, what if I need to help put it out of its misery.  OH NO.  This isn't good at all!"  And as is so often the case, my very patient husband paused again prior to responding and then said, " why don't you try waving your arms at it".   Hmmm, ok.  Sounds reasonable.  I did just that and then the beast flew off with the limp body of its prey.  uggggh.  uggggh!!!  Then Roger only had to endure another 15 minutes of me lamenting the fact we had just witnessed Wild Kingdom and I didn't like it all.  He wisely knew those 15 minutes would be much shorter than the possible time he would have to endure of me trying to rescue the poor feathered critter or worse yet have to put it out of its misery.  Roger is a wise, very patient soul.

Roger and I are slowly finding our voice.  Its been almost a week and a half since we first heard the news.  And though the pain and horror still runs as an under current threatening to pull us under, we are also slowly starting to find a buoyancy in what has to be day-to-day life.  And with each passing day, comes our ability to talk a little more.  Roger knows, despite how painful it is/will be, that people need to "be" with him, to maybe say "I love you and I hate what you are going through" or maybe just "be" with him.  The hardest part is 1) he is naturally very emotional, 2) he doesn't want people to be sad or hurt, 3) he is obsessed with getting projects done and tries to channel his energies in that direction, and 4) he doesn't want cancer to define him so he doesn't want conversations to alter and focus on the disease.  Anyway, that's my long winded way of saying we are slowly and will continue to come out of our hermit-cave... and will continue to find our voice.  Please forgive our previous silence or abbreviated conversations. 

For the time being, the focus is one day at a time.  And, now its time to shuffle one sleepy husband off to bed.   Love and hugs, a (and a snoozing r)