Just an average day. Not.
The 4th of July Holiday weekend used to be fun and fabulous for us. We are usually busy and hectic on the 4th. Barbeque's and friends. Swimming in the pool.
Sunshine and laughter.
This one for us was sad and depressing.
Here is a note I wrote to a really dear friend this morning.
Good Morning Beautiful &*%$^^#
This weekend was awful. TRYING to get Henry to eat something has been .... Hard.
He has lost 40 pounds since this began. Bring on that feeding tube. At least with my horrible cooking, he will never have to taste it!
Feeding tube and chemo port are Thurs. :(
Today, we meet his best friend in Indy and then go for that 2nd opinion at IU Med.
Henry is giving up. 4 days into treatment and I'm not sure if it's the cancer or the treatment but he feels like absolute crap.
All we do is look at 4 walls. We need a jumpstart! His best friends comes today.
Let's hope he can do the trick.
I pray for a miracle, Henry says he prays for a massive heart attack. Not funny, huh? We have only just begun.
God, I am so sick of my depressing self. Maybe I need to write in my blog again. It helps me to get it out and move forward. So...
Now I am going to go get beautified and wear something FABULOUS to go see a new doctor. Why not, right?
I am gong to wear a white Herve Leger skirt, my fav black Christian Louboutin's and a Chanel jacket and
YES... RED lipstick! and tell CANCER to kiss my Fabulous ASS!
Mother F*cker can just go ruin someone else's life today! Ha! I feel better already.
I love you so much
To say our fabulous fun lives have changed is an understatement. Trust me when I tell you, this could happen to anyone! An exaggeration? Nope.
None of us, you or me are immune to tragedy. Whether it be an illness or an accident, it can come to our houses and move right in. Stay awhile. Put it's dirty feet all over your home and your heart. Eat at your soul. Smell up the place and not leave. Three short weeks ago we had plans and dreams and a life. Now... Not so much.
My advice is this, plain and simple:
Don't just TELL those you love that you love them.
SHOW them! Every day.
Tuesday 10:00 a.m.
5th Day of Radiation
My husband has zero energy. Listless. Given up.
Won't eat. His fun sense of humor is fading as fast as my bleach blond hair when Clairol comes to town.
I am almost excited about him getting this feeding tube!
(This from a girl that would only get excited by a pair of Christian Louboutin's? Ha!)
The PEG Tube and Port for Chemo are scheduled for surgery on Thursday and it will be hard but good.
The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly.
The Good... He will eat. Well, sort of eat.
The Bad....I will be cooking (yes ME who can't cook to save my soul)
I will be buying a blender and a food processor and pureeing all his food and sliding it into him via a tube installed in his stomach.
The Ugly.... My cooking is ugly and grinding it up until it's unrecognizable and looks like slime to be fed into a tube directly into his stomach will be ugly.
Can I do that? OMG. The thought scares me so bad.
I have not been sleeping at night. I wake up 20 times a night and worry.
When I was flying, I would have this recurring dream that went like this...
We would be inflight. 35,000' cruising speed. All is well.
Suddenly, the aircraft begins to shake and dip. Roll and sway. Passengers screaming. Complete chaos. I am standing in the aisle. At a complete loss. I FORGOT to do SOMETHING. I can never remember what it is I have forgotten but the aircraft is going down. Fast. I can hear the wind whistling and the thin cabin walls about to come inward from the pressure. Falling. Screaming. All these lives.
It's ALL my fault! I failed to do something. What?
I wake up in tears. I am distraught and confused. Wracking my brain to remember WHAT it is I fail so badly at.
It never comes to me. It only comes the next time I dream it.
Last night and most nights since this nightmare began...
I wake up standing in the middle of the room.
Scared and panting. Cold. Sweating. Last night I woke my husband up.
I was still asleep but talking.
I told him I had just signed his death sentence.
"What?" He says.
I repeat it. "I just signed your death sentence." Once again, I have forgotten to DO something! What? It's all my fault.
I have FAILED.
I suddenly wake up to full consciousness. I am in tears.
So afraid. Panic. I realize what idiocracy I just told my very ill husband. I am being positive? Ha! I have always lived my life so flip. I have flittered thru life without a care in the world. Much like Scarlett O'Hara, I would say
"Fiddle de dee. I'll think about that tomorrow."
Well, life isn't so easy when you love someone but can't help them. I fear I will FAIL. I fear I will Fail HIM.
I fear he will get worse and It will be ALL MY FAULT.
Ok, back to the oncology clinic. The 5th treatment goes well and once again, we are called into the doctors private office. What now? What possible news can you tell us now?
More x-rays tomorrow. They are switching gears. More radiation. Twice the power in the beams and adding one more week. We are now up to nine weeks to finish this!
Balls to the Wall. Kickstart this cancer. Be as aggressive as it is. Shrink the bastards!
The downside.... A greater chance at causing Multiple Sclerosis or paralysis. Lovely. Fiddle de dee... I'll think about that tomorrow!
2:30 p.m. IU Medical Center
We arrive with our best friend the NFL Coach.
My husband still calls him Coach. I love seeing them together. We sit in the waiting room and the Good Old Boys stories are flying. They are so cute. It's almost as if...
As if this is not really happening but we are just having a fun chat in an odd office building.
Laughing. Swearing. Being men. I almost feel as if I have entered a secret fraternity and should leave them alone. They are like college boys in their silliness and stories of past football plays and gossip of other players. It's fun!
The doctor calls us in. She has an entire NEW direction.
LESS Radiation Less chemo. What?
I want the "Balls to the Wall" approach. My husband and Coach are elated. They are almost giddy with the new plan.
I TRY to be but somehow my trust level is zero about this.
WHY let up? Why not hit it? Shrink the bastards? What happened to THAT idea?
Coach begins a pre-game speech. He pulls his hard stiff chair as close to the doctor as he can. He gets his face as close to hers as physically possible without touching her. He raises his voice like a coach before the Super Bowl.
"I am a COACH. I want YOU to be the Head Coach. I want You to get in there and WIN! Beat this! You can DO IT!
Be the HEAD Coach. Now, Let's get in there and make this happen!"
I am impressed. I am not an athlete but know I just witnessed the inside of a locker room.
Instead of sweaty football pads and mouth guards there are stethoscopes and bandages.
I literally want to stand up and scream like a cheerleader.
Go! Team! Go!
I'm not sure why but as these two "boys" leave the room so happy and charged up, patting each other on the back like they just scored a winning touchdown, I feel this sense of panic.
We have the players, the coach and the game plan. Why do I feel like we may lose the game? Why do I fear we will fail?
Fiddle De Dee.... I'll think about that tomorrow.