Routine appointment for Husband. Except there’s nothing routine about something that effectively tries to guess what the cancer is doing. I would say if the cancer is sleeping or not but that’s not evil enough – it’s lurking, we just don’t know how active it’s being in the background.
I am dreading the appointment and getting quite tearful. I keep telling myself I’m tired, a lot is going on, work is ridiculously demanding, I have ME and an op to prepare for and Husband has cancer. It’s hard to believe because he looks so well but I know he knows it’s there. It always will be. I hate it.
Mad rush to hospital from work. At least Husband had no problem giving blood for the test. It was heart-wrenchingly awful when they were struggling to get enough blood a few months ago.
It’s Dr Dr Humour. Yeahy. No lumps or bumps where they shouldn’t be, lungs sound good. Husband has had a cold / cough for a couple of weeks but it’s getting better slowly. Apparently if it’s resolving on its own that’s fine.
Blood results are stable but ‘down a smidge’ – 10.9 6 weeks ago, 10.5 today. .4 isn’t necessarily significant – we won’t know until next time. If there’s something they need to do something about they’ll want to do it soon / ‘catch it early’. Platelets are also down a bit (229 now, 259 last time) but well within the normal range. I’m hoping that fighting this rotten cold may be responsible for some of this.
‘Keep looking forward’. That’s the sort of thing you say to a cancer patient. Please don’t talk to Husband as if he’s a cancer patient. Even though he is.
I desperately want to cry. I’m terrified for him and I don’t know if it’s warranted.
I drive home and collapse in a bit of a heap at the wheel when we arrive. Husband doesn’t like it when I cry. ‘Please don’t’. I’m not sure if he knows I’m sobbing about him. I have a horrid feeling he does. We stick to safe topics – work and the dog :-).
We’ve told key employees but have put a brave face on things. We don’t want to burden them unnecessarily, just for them to know that we do really need them and really appreciate them. The problem is that if we don’t admit to how hard things are they won’t know how much we need help.
Crisis emails to do over supper. I would love to tell people that their mini crises (which simply require me to go above and beyond in helping, emailing personalised info that is already available on our website…) do not qualify as crises in our new scheme of things.
I can barely eat. I am literally feeling sick with worry over him. I plead for a cuddle :-). Dog looks at him sympathetically :-). It seems odd that he’s comforting me but right now he’s my liferaft. Lord by your grace I can cope with the thought of my own death but when it comes to his I feel like I’m going to implode. He’s so young, so otherwise fit and healthy and he loves his life.
I can barely breathe I’m so terrified for him. He doesn’t have any faith to help him, no hope, just me and family and friends. However much we love him we can only do so much. I have become so conscious that while I would love to protect him, to strengthen him, I can’t. Only God can. I can’t give him peace, only God can walk him through those final moments protecting him from the pain and fear. But he can’t see that. He just can’t believe in God at all.