And So the Cancer Hath Summoned

It’s amazing at what a difference a day makes.  Originally Terry’s surgery was scheduled for Wednesday, Feb. 22, but now has been moved up a day to the 21st.  In reality a day less to worry and fret is a good thing.  But I know I have things I wanted to get done, and that won’t be happening now.

Watching Terry this afternoon I think it’s a good idea that he has one less day to worry.  He has paced and walked and paced some more around the house.  It was a rainy drippy day, so going outside wasn’t an option.  I really hope he gets some good rest tonight, as he’s going to need it.

We had a gathering this weekend, and it was fun to have friends and family around to take our minds off the impending surgery.  But I can’t really say we didn’t think about it, because we were talking to one person or another about it all evening.  Everyone is concerned, and their support is indescribable.

I made a request of friends to light a candle on Terry’s behalf tonight.  Each time they see that light I want them to envision a healing warmth surrounding him and protecting him from harm.  It’s a simple thing for people to do, but it provides an easy answer when asked what they can do to help.  And it really does help.

The knowledge that we have friends and family members giving us their support through prayer, positive energy, and good thoughts makes such a difference.  It helps reinforce that we are not alone in this.  I’m more concerned about this surgery than I have been for other medical events he’s endured.  A diagnosis of stage 4 cancer is never good, but their claims of confidence it hasn’t spread don’t comfort me and won’t until I hear from them after surgery that they did in fact get it all.  Had it not gotten to this point I might have more confidence.  For now I am sad and I am mad that it did.

The challenge tonight will be getting sleep when I know what we’re getting up to do.  I can only hope that this is the last time we’ll have trouble getting to sleep because of an impending and invasive procedure to save his life.  We’ve been here too many times already.  It’s time to start a new trend and have nothing medical happen for a while.  Would we know what to do?  Probably not, but I’m ready to find out.

So keep a good thought and a prayer close for him.  He’s got a really big hill to get over before it starts getting easier.  Until I post updates, I want to articulate my thanks one more time for the support.  We’re going to do all we can not to need it anymore!

 

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The Countdown to No Cancer

Terry had the last of his pre-operative requirements completed today.  It was interesting to find he had the exact same person do his admission paperwork, AND the same nurse doing the medical history.  In addition, the anesthesiologist mentioned that the guy who did his anesthesia during his last surgery was talking about Terry at a staff discussion.  We know that a pheochromocytoma is very rare, and that is confirmed each time we inform a new medical professional about his medical history.  Now that this particular anesthesiologist worked on Terry, and actually altered the way they were going to do the surgery, he has experience he can discuss.  It was just interesting to find that even after two years, with as many patients as they HAVE to see day after day, they remembered us.  I’m sure that’s in no small part to the fact that we try to have a positive attitude and interact with people on a personal level.


 

During our conversation the anesthesiologist joked with Terry that I was feisty.  I told him we had decided the fact that I speak up for him is in good measure why he is still here after all he’s been through.  He laughed and said the devil didn’t want to deal with me so he was letting me keep Terry a little longer.  I think I liked that comparison.  But I think in this case the cancer is the devil, and I am definitely trying to get Terry as far away from that particular devil as I can.  I will do all I can to fight that fight and see Terry come through it all one more time.

It’s hard not to be nervous about what is coming for Terry.  While he has a tremendous will to live, his body is getting battled out.  He has not bounced back the way we both had hoped he would from the chemotherapy.  I keep reminding him that they told us how aggressive they treated him, and how harsh those drugs really are to your body.  I want him to always feel like he’s doing what he can to beat this, even when he’s feeling physically spent.  He’s been through so much already, and has fought hard each time it’s been required.  I tell him when he’s through he’ll be the latest Six Million Dollar Man.  He just won’t be in quite the same shape as the other one!

With surgery one week from today on the 22nd, the countdown to no cancer has officially begun.  We’re ready for him to be cancer free, and for his head to be covered in hair again, and for his body to adapt to the newest changes the surgical procedure will bring.  It’s one more adventure for us to see through, so we can come out on the other side of the experience in better shape than we went into it.

It’s time to stop talking about it, and start doing it!  This will be the last Thursday he has a bladder.  Tomorrow will be the last Friday.  Here’s hoping the day gets here quickly when we look back on this as one more story we can tell about how Terry won the battle one more time.  That’s not asking too much.   Lest we forget, cancer sucks…

                                                                                                                                                                                   

 

 


 

 

 

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Where We Go From Here

Haven’t posted for a while, and it seems like there is much happening.  The appointment with the surgeon was a little discouraging.  For me, anyway.  We went in to the appointment thinking Terry had two different, yet potential options.  After the conversation with the surgeon it seems clear he really has only one choice, and it’s the one he didn’t want to have to consider.

His dad died of cancer that Terry tells me was colon cancer, but encroached into the colon, as opposed to starting inside.  He felt his dad never fully recovered from the surgery to remove his colon and once he had an ostomy bag to deal with it began a slow decline, ending with his death.  I’ve heard from Terry prior to his bladder cancer diagnosis that after witnessing what his dad went through he never wanted to have to deal with an ostomy bag.  The description of both procedures indicated having the bag is going to be the better option for him.

Once they remove the bladder, prostate, and lymph tissue, they will remove a section of small intestine.  If he was going to not have a bag, that tissue would be used to create an artificial bladder, or as they refer to it, a neo-bladder.  The downside of that option is that due to the tissue used to function as a reservoir, there is no sensation of urgency, and he would have to empty it every two hours.  That means even at night he would have to wake up, get up, and empty the neo-bladder.  Not an attractive option for someone who has enough difficulty sleeping as it is.

A second issue is that the tissue from the intestine that would be used for the neo-bladder develops mucus.  That mucus could plug up his reservoir, and he would have to perform a self catheterization and he is NOT interested in doing that.  For me the bigger issue is the two hour drain schedule for the other option.  He will never get his strength back if he cannot rest.  Sleeping is a difficult enough proposition for him, so he truly does not need any additional difficulties there by being forced to get up every two hours every day.  His surgeon says he will be able to swim and do activities he normally would be able to do with the ostomy.

His chemotherapy treatments are finished.  He should have had the last one last week, but once again could not due to blood levels.  He was low on several counts, but the white cell count was virtually non-existent.  He was at extremely high risk to get an infection, and had to stay away from people and away from public spaces as a result.  The benefit to that is it will give him an additional week, and minus a treatment, to start getting his strength back for surgery.  It’s going to be a hard surgery on him, and the better shape he’s in when he starts will hopefully mean better shape when he’s finished.

His date for surgery has been set for February 22, which will be here before we know it.  Neither of us are looking forward to it, but we are looking forward to it being over.  And I’m looking forward to getting the Terry I know back.  Treatment has been really tough on him so far, which necessitated missing 2 of his scheduled 8 treatments.  He has no color, and his bald head make him look so much older that it’s hard to remember it was just 3 months ago when he still looked like himself.  He won’t be the same when it’s all over, but at least he’ll look like himself again.  If nothing else, I think it will help us to move on.  When he looks like himself he won’t look like he does while he’s sick.  It may just be a visual trick, but I’ll take whatever we can get.  I just want him here, and healthier.  That’s all.

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