Things seem to happen on mondays. We had to go to the hospital for chemo class. It is a class set up for impending chemo patients, to learn about what to expect, timelines, side effects etc. I guess it's better than going in blind but we sat in that auditorium alittle dumbfounded that we were in fact there. Very surreal.
Kev's mom was with us too, so after chemo class, we went to the follow up with Dr. Tan and Dr. Ko, his medical oncologist. Dr Ko explained the chemo regiment to us...it will be folfox every two weeks for three days. This will be an eight week course, then they will re-evaluate, do new scans, see how it is working. A port will be put in on friday to administer the chemo. It is surgically implanted in the chest just under the skin to avoid being pricked each time Kev has chemo. He will have the port until chemo is no longer necessary. The chemo itself starts very early monday morning. We are daunted and very scared.
Kev's mom was kind enough to take him home while I went to visit my dad (another story) and then, as I was parked near, I decided to go to Wellspring. It was strange to be there looking for information instead of being there for cheque presentations after our fundraising golf tournaments. Ribbons of Hope has been raising money for Wellspring Sunnybrook for the past five years and now I was there looking for their special brand of support. It was after hours but the volunteer let me in. I again started to sob thinking of how I was going to tell our children Quin and Cian that daddy was seriously ill...I didn't know where to start and clearly can't say the words aloud without breaking down. The volunteer sat there quietly, letting my tears come in torrents down my face, not saying a word, but holding my hand. I stood up after awhile, still crying, and asked to see the Ribbons of Hope peer support room. She led me to the room and as I looked in, I felt calmer, more able to handle what is to come. It was as if our dear friend Connie, who had just succumbed to this horrible disease was there in the room she helped build, as if she was there to comfort me and tell me it will be alright. I left Wellspring with Connie's strength and courage on my mind. I hope I can make her proud.