Picking up from the last post, Rich did call McGee and the good doctor's response was ”stop the chemo NOW”. Gee. Glad I badgered him into calling McGee. I'm getting way too good at being a bitch.
He has an appointment with McGee 9-13-11 to work it all out and plan the next step. So the chemo came to a screeching halt, the effects, however, have not.
He “hurts all over”. He is still running a fever intermittently, tho a bit less frequently and not as high as before. He wakes up every two hours to have a Dr Oz bowel movement, hence, he is exhausted. Mostly he sleeps. He's actually taking pain meds (the heavy hitters) without my prompting, and he wouldn't take them post- op. On the up side of that, maybe they'll slow down his GI tract...eventually.
The physical pounding is starting to wear him down emotionally. He's working way too hard at being upbeat and positive. When he's awake.
Gawd-dahm this is hard to watch.
But this blog is not about the One With Cancer. It is about the One Who Waits.
So here's what happens two years and six months (today) into a diagnosis of “stage four pancreatic cancer with six months to live”. . . . callouses. Cancer grinds thick, lumpy callouses all around your heart. In the beginning it's like working the fields until your hands bleed, except it's your heart that bleeds. But you have to keep working so the raw, oozing wounds slowly harden into tough callouses that allow you to keep working the field. Eventually you reach a point where the bleeding, burning pain has morphed into hard, protective tissue that allows you to keep working. And stop feeling.
If these callouses get any tougher I may be able to stop the happy pills. I won't feel anything at all.
