Nobody is Promised Tomorrow. . .
A sort of normal Saturday. We are still being foolishly optimistic. Mr C is starting to consider the maybe remote possibility of radiation. This is a small step in the “right” direction. Or not.
I did some retail therapy today. I got four undershirts from Goodwill. I don’t have any winter clothes. And if we stay here so Carlton can get nuked … I am going to need a few extra layers.
Thanks to everyone for the food, flowers, booze (for the caregiver), and for the love and good wishes.
Will Mr C end up in a Velveeta Cheese Box buried in the backyard? Nope, we don’t have a back yard.
I choose to be optimistic (today). The operation report and the PET scan narrative arrived today. Operation report describes “intensive metastasis”. But, the PET scan report says the brain, liver, kidneys all the lower stuff is fine. And he has “diffuse atherosclerosis”. The PET scan sounds OK to me. The bad stuff is sort of localized. And, the diffuse atherosclerosis means he might win a fatal heart attack before the cancer gets him.
I have another week to open his mind to the possibility of radiation.
Waiting for the lunar eclipse.
Every now and again a street musician sets up shop downstairs by our metro entrance. Today we a have a steel drum…The guy is very good.
The Nightly Carlton Report: No news is no news. No news expected until next Friday.
OK, here is the deal. Carlton has become a pro at surgery. Yesterday, when they called me in my office to come and take Carlton home – they said “He is in his regular room”. You know you have a problem when you have a “regular room” in your hospital’s OR department! Room 27. It is a good room, near the coffee pot.
He doing fine vis-à-vis recovering from the surgery. He went somewhere on the bus today and rode his bike. When you are in the “enjoy every sandwich” time of your life – this was a good day.
When Mr C ended up with sepsis after one of his earlier surgeries one of his doctor’s looked at me and asked “Who do you want to be your ID consult?” Fortunately, I knew she was asking what infectious disease doctor did I want to use. More fortunately, I actually knew an infectious disease doctor. Well this time this surgeon sicked a “Oncology Navigator” on Mr. C. Methinks he will pass on that – what ever it is. He was also told to pick out a radiation oncologist.
I think we should just go to Japan. Carlton can go stand outside the Fukushima reactor. And I can soak in a nice onsen.
There will be no news until next Friday. Unless the wheels fall off before then.
After taking on a couple of cups of coffee and a bowl of red lentil soup, Mr C went out to supervise the construction site in the next block.
The surgeon is “very concerned” about Carlton’s prognosis. (But, hey, at our age – how much prognosis do we have anyhow?) But just for now… we will concentrate on recovering from today’s surgeries. Carlton is having very little pain. He can not talk very well – the tube they put down your throat during anesthesia always causes him problems. My blood pressure has returned from the stratosphere.
I haven’t a clue what Mr C was doing besides talking and wearing the dreaded sport coat. Yep, he still has it and still wears it.
He went to the Pet Scan. The doctor called and told him that he did not light up the scanner like a Xmas tree. The lump that is coming out lighted up. And, there seems to be something going on in the area of the sternum. But, that could either be cancer, infection, or irritation left over from the surgical procedure in April. All things considered… Not too bad. So for now – just doing one day at a time.
Wondering if I have a copy of my wedding vows around? Did I actually sign on for “In sickness…”?
OK – For all of you Friends of Carlton…
Carlton feels fine.
Tomorrow noonish he will be having a PET Scan. You don’t get PET scans for poison ivy. It should tell the doctor how far the cancer has spread. It is a painless but lengthly process. He can have breakfast. No sugar. No coffee. He is thinking about eggs, bacon and a biscuit with butter.
I don’t think we’ll have any new information tomorrow.
Absolutely nothing has changed since yesterday. I was completely frozen by grief and depression this morning. Going to Trader Joe’s was almost more than I could handle. Mr C seems to have gone directly to acceptance. Skipping the first 4 of Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’s 5 stages.
Addendum: Things are not really this bleak. Things are going to work out. Things always work out. At this instant, I don’t have enough facts to be this bleak.
Warning: Way too much information follows. Nothing says you have to read it. In fact I’d advise you not to. But, this is my way too public diary. And this is how I feel. Scroll down at your own risk.
Okay, I was a bad wife. I did not escort Mr C to the Big Cancer Doc’s office this morning where a “little” office procedure was planned. He didn’t want me to come. And I didn’t think it was going to happen. I thought the doc would tell him to get an MRI or CT Scan.
Well, was I ever wrong! OH, nothing happened. Apparently the doctor poked at the lump. And said “It seems bigger than it was on Monday.” This can not be good. He pokes around the arm pits and finds a big lymph node. Doctor says this wasn’t here 10 days ago. This is even worse.
Doctor says – we need to get you a PET Scan and get the lump and the lymph nodes out of you soon. And the “maybe” radiation. Carlton apparently says “stop”. I don’t want to hear this. I am not doing this. I am not afraid of dying. The doctor convinces Carlton to at least do the PET Scan and the surgery.
The doctor says “you have a very rapidly progressing potentially metastatic process” going on. How much worse can it get.
Doctor says, I’ll turn you over to the scheduler. So, a PET Scan was scheduled for Monday. And, surgery for next Friday. Carlton – being rather depressed – comes home.
By the time Carlton gets home – less than 15 minutes – the doctor has said that next Friday is too long to wait. So, surgery is on tap now for zero-dark-hundred hours on Tuesday. The doctor will go down to Radiology and look at the results of the PET scan before he goes home on Monday.
Okay. Now you know all that I know. Now, we just deal with it.
That strange man, he is my whole world. As self sufficient and independent as I may appear… He is a long lifeline that lets me run madly about – knowing that I am safely anchored in his practical reality. I face a dark future.
But, until then, I owe him my best. And that means, no fears, no tears. At least none that show.
But, on to more serious things. Bad news from the Big Cancer Doc. It’s Back. Or it sprouted up in a new place. Big Cancer Doc might attack the thing tomorrow morning in his office. Somehow, I think he’ll wimp out and we’ll have another round with out patient surgery and the operating room. Hope I am wrong.
He went to see the Little Cancer Doc today. That guy cut some cancer out of his chest – a few inches above the area that concerns the Big Cancer Doc. And, some stuff was cut out of his leg. It is all squamous cell cancer.
We are not happy campers tonight. Not happy at all. But, as Mr C says – Whatever is supposed to happen happens.
Hawai’i is scheduled for Nov 10. I’ll not be able to convince him that we should cancel the trip. But, I think I can shorten it the stay to say 6 weeks…
I am not dealing with this too very well. But, not much I can do about the situation. So, I’d best deal. As best as I can.
I saw Carlton’s Big Cancer Doctor at the hospital. He asked me how did I think Carlton was doing. Well, Doc – I think he is going to be OK. I asked the doctor what he thought. He said he was mildly optimistic – but that optimism wasn’t based on anything more than hope. The lab results are expected tomorrow. But, until then, I too shall be mildly optimistic.
How cool is this? (Durham was my name before I married “The 1st Mr Bethany”).
I was busy “not thinking” about Mr C’s still undetermined medical issues… Our apartment building is having a little photo contest and I decided to enter this film noir favorite of mine. It will not win anything. A cute dog will win.
But, I was really surprised when the “Durham” Captcha appeared when I submitted my entry. Maybe it is a dark omen.