I know … I lied. This post is supposed to be about Casey Anthony. Only everything is swirling like a kid in a Superman costume at my house. Can’t get anything done.
It was a little shaky talking with Dr. Bryant, his radiologist, but she is more than pleased at how well he came through these treatments.
David and I were holding hands as we left the Center, “Yeah, our last treatment,” we laughed. Only we both know the greater battle is yet to come.
My husband says he will not roll over. He takes the meds like he’s suppose to, eats his meals as best he can, and most of all keeps a positive outlook.
Still, the past two weeks have been tough, he’s been so sick. When a patient can’t have surgery the treatments are full blast right from the get-go, it ain’t easy.
Now it’s a four week wait. The reason being the radiation is still working, so everything has to settle down. Also, there is inflammation and it needs to subside.
On June 10th David will have a CT Scan to see how much the tumor has shrunk. The Oncologist will then decide if he needs more chemo. We will probably be able to go closer to home for these treatments.
In the meantime, we live as normally as possible.
We don’t talk about it much, but we are getting things in order. Have to. These treatments are not a cure; they are only to give David more time. How much?
No one but God knows when He will take us.
But—David is in stage IIIb of inoperable lung cancer, which is very advanced. It also depends on the size of the tumor, location, lymph node involvement and other factors. We will be fortunate to have 12-15 more months together.
Each day we wake up is a success. We feel blessed to have each other, grateful for each and every moment, dwell on the good we have had in our years together. And cherish that we are more in love than ever.
This is the most difficult post I have written so far. It’s hard when you’re as private a person as I am. I just feel driven to put down the words; there is no telling who it may help now or down the road.
Until you are here you don’t realize how many people this disease touches.
I pray that it never touches you.
May Your Glass Always Be Half Full