Tuesday, 31 May 2011

Yet another week has gone by, and even as they feel like they are going slowly, the calendar is saying differently. Kev started another round of chemo this week, and it made for a week filled with ups and downs. We had the joy filled two weeks in between chemo to relish in the good news about the scans, the smiles on our faces a permanent happy fixture. Even the fact that another round of chemo was set to start didn't rain on the parade.

We definitely did have a lighter step as we made our way to sunnybrook on Tuesday. It was nice to go there having the feeling that the treatment is working. The first round we just hoped it would, didn't know for sure. How soon we forgot how much the chemo treatment could kick you down though. For the first time in a blissful week Kev felt tired, nauseous and just generally crappy. Both of us put on the brave face, armed with the knowledge that it has been working. It did help. We got through it together.

Wednesday Kev was feeling stronger and insisted it would be a good idea to take the boys to wonderland when Quin finished school. I think it is his way of continuing the normalcy he wants for the boys. It was almost comical. Every ride we approached had the sign that said you can't ride this if you are pregnant or have had recent surgery. That ruled both of us out. What a pair we are.

By the end of the week I was reminded of all the wonderful people we have around us sending us good wishes and doing little things to make life a bit easier to get through. It all culminated in my best friends presenting me with some money they had raised to help us out without my knowledge. I burst into tears, happy tears that some of the financial pressure is off for awhile, but sad tears that we needed the help. Kev and I are both fiercely independent and have trouble accepting help, but are recognizing that in accepting this help, it just means a bigger commitment to helping others when we are able.

So much will be happening in the next few weeks, our two issues, Kev's cancer and my pregnancy collide in thirty seven days. On July 5th, Kev will have his last chemo treatment of this round and will be unhooked from the chemo on July 7th. It is on July 7th that we will welcome our new baby boy into this world. Hopefully it is a sign of new life for all of us...I'm just glad that Kev will be there to hold my hand as he has been twice before.

Thursday, 19 May 2011

It was a crazy week. We started out with the scan on monday, and both Kev and I were anxious when we arrived at sunnybrook to have the procedure done. Like all other times we have spent there, it took way longer than we had expected. Hours longer in fact. Neither of us could decide if we were happy or scared of the results. We didn't know how to feel at that point.

In the next days Kev was scared. He was about to get a new set of answers, life and death answers, and this hung over both of us like a dark cloud making us over emotional about even the smallest detail of our lives. On tuesday Kev took both boys to school, came home and sobbed in my arms for the first time since this whole ordeal began. It was hitting us, the fact that we had done all we could do to change course, it was out of our hands. The weight of it all was getting harder and harder to bear. He could no longer put on a brave face for me. It brought us closer to realize we were both in turn trying to protect the other. Standing in our kitchen, clinging to eachother, sobbing together did more good than harm.

Somehow we made it through the weekend. It really was cruel that we had such a long wait. Test results hadn't been going our way, the last time we sat in the doctors office to listen to results it was catastrophic. When the leafs are losing, many fans like myself are inclined to change things up, put the jersey on backwards, change the karma. Was it crazy then that when I woke up that tuesday morning I put on a piece of clothing inside out? I think not.

Again a long wait ensued, but this time it was worth it. The doctors were smiling. It was good. There had been a significant reduction in all of the tumors, between thirty and forty percent. It was an above average response to treatment that they couldn't exactly explain but they would take. We both felt like we were walking on air as we left, the good news replaying over and over in our heads and out loud. As I write this, neither of us have stopped smiling.

They want another round of chemo. Hopefully the results from this round will be duplicated. It is then that we will have another scan and hopefully talk to the surgeon about cutting the rest of this disease out. Palliative is out, life is back in. Chemo starts again on tuesday, but this time I will have a slightly lighter step when on my way to sunnybrook....maybe even a little smile on my face.

Monday, 9 May 2011

The final chemo week is behind us. I find it hard to believe that this much time has passed. When the day came that marked two months since diagnosis, kev and I separately had little celebrations in our minds, but only admitted it to eachother a few days ago. Originally they had given him two months, and here we are now, passed that dreaded point, his colour looking better, his energy up. I have to admit it makes it hard to trust doctors sometimes. At least the doctors he deals with now don't mention things like time lines and life spans. They seem to know better.

This week hasn't been without drama however. They did warn us that as the chemo accumulated in the body the side effects could become worse. They weren't kidding. Kev was very ill this time. In our sixteen years together I have never seen him so violently ill. It did finally subside, but the nausea came in waves over the next few days, relentlessly picking away at his energy. The neuropathy was back as well. The numbness in his fingers as well as the what can only be described as electric shock like sensitivity to cold. It was imperative that he only drink warm beverages, as the cold sensitivity could cause his throat to constrict. It was a nightmare.

It is monday, and the nausea has passed, but the neuropathy continues, though less than the last few days. We are still hopeful that it will completely disappear, that is a possibility. Today is scan day, and both of us are nervous. There is so much riding on the outcome of these scans. It is what will dictate our next moves, our direction. My mind only allows for one outcome, Kev's mind has the same limitation. I prefer to focus on the fact that in fifty eight days we will be holding our beautiful Tadhgan in our arms. Quinlan and Cian are excited about their new baby brother. He has managed to kick them both by now, and that has them fascinated and amazed. It is really wonderful to hear both boys talk about all the things they will teach the baby. It seems they already love him as much as kev and I do. It is these things we are focusing on when the future is brought up. Nothing else. That way the future is not tainted by what ifs, but what will be's, and that's just better for now.