A time to heal, A time to mourn, A time to love...

Celebrating the END of chemo!
8 pounds ago... 

Friday, October 5th, was the last day of chemo, the end of 8 cycles of treatment, the bottle was removed and my handsome gonged the cymbal and celebrated to the tune of "Gonna Fly Now"  - the theme from the Rocky movies. He woke up that morning, felt like a fighter and was ready for this part of his journey to end. It didn't end. The past week he has been at his lowest and sickest ever and I wondered if he would still be with me when I got up in the morning. His fight was gone, he was exhausted and slept, almost all day. Out of 24 hours, he was perhaps awake for 3 of them, long enough to void, eat and fall right back to sleep again. It was so scary and I thought this was it.

I know that finishing this long treatment was not an automatic "you are better now" resolution, however, I didn't expect it to be like this. My poor husband was weak, battered and had no fight left. He may have "danced" to the Rocky theme music a week ago but the after effects, physical, psychological and emotional wore him down. Now, if you know him, you know he can have a bit of a "fatalistic" or "pessimistic" attitude, but this was not that. This was worse, this wasn't a thinking man spouting off his beliefs, this was nothing... zero... zip... and scared the hell out of me. 

I couldn't leave him alone. I couldn't wake him up. I couldn't get him to speak to me. I couldn't get him to eat more than soup or oatmeal and very little of that. I read the books about "after chemo" and "what to expect" and that the fatigue was normal, but this did not feel like fatigue. This felt like nothing. That is such a poor description but he didn't care about anything. The little emotion he had was tears running down his cheeks; remembering his parents deaths and focusing on that; and apathy with the world around us, including me.

We are both looking tired and weathered,
 but still here!

It is now Saturday, a week later, he is still here. Last Wednesday I had my doubts. We had to go to the surgeon to meet and discuss the action plan and what is next, and that was demoralizing for him. We both walked away unsure about the future. We also discovered that between Friday and Wednesday he had lost another 8 pounds. That terrified me. I proceeded to spend several days crying, worrying and trying to figure out how to cope, how to help him and what to do next. I realize I can't leave him even for a few hours when he is in that state and have to put a plan in place for that. 

Thursday, he sat up for a bit longer and actually asked for food. I would have done anything he wanted at that moment. Friday, started strong and by mid day he was done again, worn out, in bed, pain starting and little appetite. I have been reading a lot about life after chemo. It is not an automatic improvement. Everyone is different. Doctors say that there will be a slight improvement and increased energy over about an 8 week period. From what I read, for some people this can take a year. I am here. Whatever he needs, I will do my best. Some days are harder than others. My energy is low for doing much except for him, I have endless energy for his care.

We often wonder how people who are single or alone cope. I can't even imagine how one would get by without someone to drive them, care for them, prepare their food, take care of all the day to day stresses, bills, laundry, cleaning, etc. We are both so grateful that I have been able to just be here for him. Listen for when he wakes. Assess his pain and discomfort and track his pills and medications. The journey is not over. The bell rang but the gong show is not over.

I keep the wood stove going, the house warm and I listen to the hum of the fridge, the freezer click on and off; I grab the phone so it doesn't ring more than once and disturb him; I intervene at the door if someone arrives; I attempt to predict his wants and needs and ensure that he is "watered and fed."  I shield him from financial, political, social and environmental issues that may over excite him or even more frightening, hold no interest to him. This is the life of a caregiver. Any of you reading this who have been caregivers, know what I mean. It is not special for me, but it is our experience at this time and for as long as I am required I will ensure that I am available - willing and able.

Signs of encouragement at URVH

Day by day, moment by moment. This is life. Would he have chosen chemo again? I doubt it. Does he think he did the right thing? Some days yes, some days no. However, we make the choices with the information we have. The research done, we look at the statistics and standard of care. We use pharmaceutical and holistic methods and we go forward. I see meme's and comments and judgements and I don't know what I would do if I was in his situation. I do know however, that we each do our best and what we feel is right and we need to respect those choices. Would we do it again? Maybe not. He has been a warrior and he has worked hard... 

One day, we'll ride again...

However, this is life now and I am so grateful that I still have my handsome, because he still is and always will be. I am so thankful for that foot rub 13 years ago that made me see my friend in a different light and opened my eyes so that I could see his love. I am here for the long haul and we may not travel; we may not get to fulfill some of our dreams, but my dream is to be with my love and that dream has been fulfilled. 

Peace and love,

Daisy