Pre-Chemo Treatment #3

Demolished - in just one day.

Demolished. This is how we felt when we first got the news.

Getting used to this cycle.  Had to pick the prescriptions at the pharmacy in anticipation of tomorrow’s session.  Did some general running around to get ready – we have to bring our own lunch, so I went and got that stuff.  Today was a decent day for my husband – his taste buds were almost back to normal.  We included an anti-nausea medication in his morning medications just to keep his appetite up.  Today we had to have meals heavy in protein, as is the case tomorrow morning – they want him going into chemo well hydrated and with a good intake of protein.

The weather was nice so we managed to get outside for a bit of a walk.  We went to a waterfront park in our community for a change of scenery.  It is a very level walking path and as a result he was able to walk further than most occasions.  The leg is still painful to walk on – the clot is persistently slow in dissolving.  I’ve started to measure parts of his leg just so I can assure him that it is going down, even if it is by sixteenths of an inch.

I learned early on that I hated the numbers and stats they assign to cancer.  We made the mistake early on of asking for a prognosis, in general, for someone with his cancer.  When they gave us the numbers it was devastating.  I’ve since put this into perspective.  Cancer is as unique as the individual who has it and sometimes the numbers, in general, are just way off.  You decide whether you want to be textbook and buy in to the numbers they give you.  In my husband’s case we got the prognosis of 3 to 6 months and it cut us off at the knees – at first.  When we were able to think again we realized that we got a statistically based response not an individually based response.  However, getting back to being able to think again was tough.  Cancer can consume you, it can swallow you up whole so that all you see and feel is darkness.  That’s if you let it, if you can’t get past the numbers.  It’s that glass half empty or glass half full perspective.  I realize now we should have asked the question differently – something like – what’s the two year, five year and ten year survival rate for someone with this type of prognosis.  Because even if it’s one percent it means that someone’s doing it – so why not him?

Any thoughts or experiences to share? Leave them here.

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