You want me on that wall.....You NEED me on that wall

If The Man in your life is diagnosed with cancer—I say Man because a woman does not hold the delusion that a penis is a magic wand....

If the Man in your life is diagnosed with cancer, your first focus must be a video camera!!! Buy one, borrow one, or dust yours off and charge the battery. I am serious.

Why?

Because you are so going to need it. (You might even want to enlist a cinematographer or phone a friend to man the camera. ) You'll thank me later. Trust me.

You' ll want to get some brief footage of him resisting every effort you make to care for him, whether it be food, fluids, medication or activity. You'll want every bit of screen time where he says he's fine when clearly he is not; when you beg him to call the doctor, or beg his permission for you to call the doctor on his behalf.

Then...you will absolutely want the video of the 35 minute ambulance ride in the dead of night, his jammies soiled, he's babbling, hallucinating and thoroughly enjoying himself. Then...you'll want the video of the whole ER experience with close-ups of you signing the papers to let him die rather than hook him up to life support. Then...and this is where a friend to man the camera comes in....you'll want the montage of 26 days of sitting vigil at his bedside, schlepping in meals, fighting with your first round of infectious disease doctors from The Land of Numb Nuts, the following weeks of home care with IV's three times a day, meals, baths, bouts of unexplained dementia, exhaustion, tears, snakes and Hedge Hog people capped with another admission to the hospital for immediate surgery, followed by THAT recuperation. Followed by your life in hell at Con-Fun-Med.

Why?

No, I have not reached a sick and morbid level of scrap booking. You will NEED this video.

Why?

Because if he survives he will remember none of this hell. All he knows is that that he kicked Death's ass. And he'll probably think he did it with his magic wand. Fine. Let him dream.

But the day will come, my friend, when you will bless me for having advised you on the matter of video evidence. That day will be three weeks into his third round of chemo when he suddenly hits the wall. All energy is gone, and he's running a fever. Which he insists is not really a problem because “it just comes and goes”. You will remind him that these are the exact same symptoms he had in the days prior to the ambulance ride in the dead of night. He will respond with a blank stare. By the third day of your gentle efforts to provide care you can A) throw a screaming hissy fit, or B) pull out the video and put his nose really close to the screen.

I, unfortunately find myself sans video. And Rich doesn't read the blog. So now I find myself into day 17 of chemo and “it's deja vu all over again” and I'm screwed.

For 24 hours he has been having the exact same symptoms prior becoming mostly dead. I left for work after nicely requesting three times that he call McGee. I called him before lunch to learn that he didn't really think that was necessary. I reminded him that this is the same road that led to the MICU last time. He's making noises that sound like “yeah, yeah, whatever, I'm fine...”
Finally, I snapped a nano second before I could choke on the honey and butter that my tongue was wrapping around the words that were struggling to get past the huge lump of fear and dread in my throat.

Then..I said..in a calm, quiet, gritty tone....

“Look, asshole. You get on the phone and you call McGee NOW, during office hours, and tell him what's going on and find out what he wants us to do, because if you don't......here's how it's gonna go down.... When you reach critical mass at, oh, around midnight, I may, or may not feel like reaching for the phone to call the squad. Which will take your ass to the ER. And I promise you this—if I have to sign papers again to let you DIE because once again you would not listen to me, then I assure you I will NOT be answering my cell phone when they call to tell me you've changed your mind. Got it?”

“yeah,” he said after a stunned silence.

“Are we clear?” I asked, wishing this was being recorded for future use.

“yeah.”

“ARE WE CLEAR?!”

“Crystal.”