What I Did on My Summer Vacation.....

Do you remember how in school, every Fall when school started you were asked, "what did you do on your summer vacation?"

 I used to love those questions.  As a kid, most summers were spent traveling thanks to the generosity of the the World Back and it's benefits package of the late Eighties and Nineties.  I would regale teachers with our travels and confound many of my classmates who didn't understand why sleep away camp was not a part of my summer vacation.

The beginnings of carrot soup- he likes mushy things.

I go back to work full time on Monday.  The summer has allowed me the opportunity to work from home or the hospital.  I have been able to spend the days with Pierre-Marie force feeding him and checking his temperature.  Late nights at the ER, middle of the nights request for pain killers and early morning check ins about night sweats have not bothered me since alarm clocks and schedules had a flexibility not usually afforded someone who works in a school.  But Monday changes all of that.  It's not only the idea of losing some flexibility it's the idea of answering the question, "How was your summer?" from the many well meaning people who have traveled around, seen friends and family and had a moment to relax and rejuvenate.

Late nights in the ER

How do I answer that without making them or us uncomfortable and awkward.  See, as you know, our summer has been one of hospital visits, anxious evenings, late night trips to the ER, visits to the pharmacy, force feeds and night sweats.  But no one really wants to hear that.  So I've been working on the spin for it all.  So allow me to try it out on you.....

How was my summer, you ask?  Well it was different from most.

View from 519 

We had the opportunity to see some amazing vistas.and meet new friends and try different foods.  We watched a bunch of movies, and I read a ton of books and made some headway into a few of my knitting projects.  But most of all I got to spend the summer with my best buddy doing things we love to do and appreciating the moments we have together.

The hats I'm making for the nurses

Hopefully this will come off with little sarcasm and we can move on to more exciting topics such as what they did this summer.  And I'll promise to listen and be interested and ask all the right questions.  

More than anything this summer has taught me the value of the questions we ask, how we ask them and when we do.  I suppose I have regrets over the questions I have posed in the past and the manner in which I have asked them, but I think I am more regretful of the questions I didn't ask.

So, let me start....

I got to spend a weekend with my mom, sister and my nieces.  

On your summer vacation, did you do something that brought you joy?  

Every minute with this guy

Did you make a memory you will cherish? 

Take this gentleman home after chemo cycle 3

Did you do something you hoped to do?

. 

The proverbial feet in sand pic....with a twist!

For all those questions, I would absolutely have an answer that didn't need a rehearsal

The A-B-Cs of This Ride

My anti anxiety medication

A- There is always so much anxiety that you manage.  I am an anxious person to begin with and in this case I worry about everything.  Every scan that has to come back.  Every time I call or text P-M and he doesn't pickup or text. Every doctors appointment, every email I need to send to a doctor, every time a new symptom rears its ugly head...

P-M's chemo is all done through IV

B- The doctors have confirmed that P-M will need a bone marrow transplant.  They expect it to happen soon after we can get him into remission.

C- Chemo is awesome cause it kills the cancer.  Chemo sucks cause it kills the appetite.

D- Originally the doctors mentioned that Our Man would be receiving an autologous (removal of his own bone marrow) but we found out that in fact he will need to have an allogenic one which is extracting marrow from a donor. 

The Sibley ER room

E- On Thursday we went back to the Emergency Room.  P-M was running a fever and after speaking with Dr. El Shami, he said we should head in.  And so we did.  They ran tests and think it was a low grade infection and did ultimately send us home. With some antibiotics. 

F- Pierre-Marie thinks I am trying to force feed him.  And he hates to be forced to do anything.  But he is losing weight and fattening him up is my top priority.  So I am force feeding away.

G- Pierre- Marie can be quite grumpy these days!  He's tired and I think over this whole cancer thing. Not that he was ever for it....but....

H- We return to the hospital this Thursday for round 2 of the new chemo regiment.  We will be in there for another 5 days of the second regiment.  We were told to expect the brain toxicity again but at least this time when the loony talk starts we'll know what to expect. 

I- Over the course of the last few weeks, we get letters from our insurance carrier.  At one point they wrote to us to inform us that they had denied a claim for some ridiculous amount of money.  Three months ago, I would have passed out reading something like that.  But it's all relative, and now, I read it, I laugh and file it away.  I'll deal with it in the coming months.

John's Hopkin in Baltimore

J- We went to John's Hopkins on Tuesday to meet with a hematological oncologist.  This is where the afore mentioned bone marrow transplant will take place.   That place was like a small city.  Mazes  of offices and armies of nurses, doctors and technicians.  

K- What does cancer kill?  It kills planning, vacations, cooking together, appetites, dignity, normal life, safety, visiting, going out, sharing chores, schedules, energy, control and at times your spirit.  But you know what I refuse to let it kill.....My marriage and/or My husband!  So take that cancer!

L- P-M is currently on short term disability leave.  We are working on getting him onto to long term disability while he kicks this thing.  There's a lot of paper work involved by a lot of people, but doing so allows him to still get a portion of his salary. 

M- How are we managing you may wonder...Some days it feels really normal.  And others, we're struck by the suddenness of it all and the severity of what we are dealing with.  But then we get some good news, and it carries us for days.  Or he smiles at me in a way that he has a million times over and I am reminded that this is a journey and we are great travel partners.  

N- No one and nothing can ever prepare you for this.  

O- In getting a second opinion, we came to realize that this is an aggressive cancer and relatively rare.  So far, there was agreement on the manner of treatment with a few additions and suggestions that the doctors at Hopkins will make to the doctors at Sibley. 

P- The current plan of action is that P-M will have two o three more cycles of chemo, be scanned after each one and when the cancer is in remission then the process for the bone marrow transplants will happen.  

Silence

Q- One of the things, that has struck me about this whole ordeal is the nature of silence.  The Quiet.  When he and I are alone, often we are quiet together.  He hasn't been up to reading and isn't interested in watching much tv and so often I knit and he sits and we exist in the quiet.  I am trying to get used to it.  Sometimes, I am successful, and others, I worry that the noises in our own heads are preventing us from making noise together.  

R- Everything that we are doing right now is to get P-M into remission.  Only then will we me able to start the bone marrow transplant option.  

S- After this round of chemo, P-M will have another round of scans.  He has had multiple CT Scans, but this time, they will be adding a PET Scan to see how the chemo is working on the cancer cells. 

T- I just realized in writing this post that tear (to rip apart) and tear (the water stuff in your eyes) are spelled the same.  Often things that rips us apart makes us want to cry.  And I am no exception.  

U- Sometimes the universe hands you lemons and you know what I want to do with them.   Throw them at the Universe's head and scream profanities at it!  Screw the lemonade!

V- We had to cancel our vacation this year.  We were supposed to go to France to see, and for me to meet for the first time, P-M's family.  And then off to Italy for a week of play on the Italian coast.   But, well....you know, other plans.  Next year however....vacation on!!!

W- I continue to work through this.  Work as in my actual job and not just processing these crazy events.  Often it is stolen moments in the hospital or when P-M is home I head into school.  At times, it feels overwhelming to live in both worlds and at others, it's one of the things that helps keep my sanity.  I suppose it's because I just feel as if I have more control.

Dinner with my sister and the family

X- My achievement of the month.  I can look at P-M's chest X-ray and see whether there is fluid in the image or not.  I could totally be a doctor if it weren't for the years of school, my dislike of blood, my own hypochondria, and the fact that I don't actually ever want to have that type of responsibility.  

Y- YOU....to all of you....Thank you....thank you....thank you....for being there, for showing up, for opening your homes and hearts (for us) and wine bottles (for me).....For your emails and calls and texts, for reading this blog.  For showing us that you are there.....thank YOU!

Z- Day Zero is the day of the actual transplant.  And then each day is Zero plus....We need to hit Zero plus 60 to get out of there.  Currently we are Zero minus 45.

Breaking Free!

And we are home!!!   After ten long days in the hospital, Pierre- Marie was allowed to "check out".  It was great to finally have him home.  The constant runs between hospital and home can be quite trying.  On Friday, Simon and I were able to run home with our Pal!

We got some excellent news before we left.  THE CHEMO IS WORKING!!!!  Dr E-S decided to do a CT Scan to check on progress and he said, "this is better than my wildest dreams"!!

WHAT?!?!?!   Yes, that's exactly what he said!!!!   


Since he's been home we have had an incredibly active time of it....   Busily doing a lot of necessary things.  

For instance in the morning, this happened.  

Then this happened.........

Then he wanted one of these cookies......he actually had three

But all this activity was broken up with some not so pleasant things.  P-M received a Neulasta shot that triggers the growth of white blood cells.  He woke up this morning and was in pain.  The white knuckle pain, the moaning out loud pain, the I can't move pain.  By 4 when it had not gotten better, I called the doctor.  He said the best thing that works for this type of pain was Advil.  So instead of the high power meds, good old Advil came in handy.  Ooh that and Claritin. Who knew?

Normal life is coming into focus.  The new normal.  P-M, Simon, Mika and I spent the days hanging around.  I watched the Americans, Simon and P-M went on walks, Mika napped.  But oddly, the most gratifying thing that happened this weekend, was that P-M and I had a little fight.  It felt normal, the old normal.  As with most fights, there were no winners between P-M and I, but together we won over cancer.  It was a good win!

Independence Day 2018

I have been thinking a lot about independence.

Quite honestly, this Independence Day lacks the fireworks that others have had.  Or rather there have been fireworks of a different sort.

When P-M I got married, we talked about many songs that we wanted our first dance to be.  He wanted "Don't Fence Me In".  I told him that wasn't going to happen.  As we were getting closer and closer to our wedding date P-M made sure to remind me that he was not going to give up his independence.  I, on the other hand, had waited my whole life to get married so I was more than happy to give up independence.

And then it struck me!  He and I have different definitions of independence.  His equates to having the choice about his freedom and mine was about having a radius around us that I wanted to say within.

Today, July 4, 2018, independence has a different meaning all together.  But to understand independence, I have had to learn about dependence and interdependence.

I think for many people dependence is a sign of weakness.  You're dependent on something so that must mean that you can't stand on your own two feet.  But I'm learning that dependence comes with allowing yourself to feel the full humility of being alive.  Pierre- Marie and I are dependent on our doctors, our nurses, the medication, on the insurance company being able to communicate with our doctors.  He is dependent on nurses to help him clean up and walk around.  I am dependent on doctors to help me understand what is happening to him, to tell me when the chemo didn't work or why he is so disoriented he thinks the nurses are living in the wall.  It is an incredibly humbling experience to rely on others to tell you if you are ok or not.

I am dependent of family and friends to help me figure out when it's ok to step away and to bring food when I can't.  I depend on visits and phone calls and people reading this post.  I depend on friends to let me come over at 9:00 after leaving the hospital, a little too late for them but not so late that they don't invite me in.  I depend on my sister to push me to take a mini break so I can get the pleasure of falling asleep with my five year old niece, her soft little body curled into me.

These are chemo cards.  I made them for P-M.  He can read them from his
bed which I hope helps to ground him when he starts to fly. 

This is of course different from the interdependence I have been a part of.  Pierre-Marie and I are interdependent on one another.   I rely on him getting better and he relies on me to be here through the ups and downs.  Sarah relies on me to give her updates about what is happening so she doesn't feel too far away and I rely on being able to call and have her come down when I need a break. I rely on Simon to walk Mika and he relies on me to make sure that his dad is taken care of.

And it is through the dependence and interdependence of our lives that we hope to find some independence in the next few months.  He wants to have the choice to be free from hospitals and doctors and hospital beds and needing help to go to the bathroom.  He wants to choose when he sleeps, what he thinks and have the freedom from being poked and prodded.

But in the short term, I think he wants some independence from the brain toxicity that has addled his mind.  One side effect of the ifosfamide is an altered state of consciousness.  This has been P-M's world for two days now.  As he describes it, there is vertical reality and a horizontal one.  He is concerned about who is going to save the human race.  He thinks it could be me or Simon....Great one more thing to add to my list.  SAVE HUMANKIND....but then he told me that it wasn't me because he didn't see the mark on me.  Crisis averted.  And then reassured me that my bloodline was being protected in India.  Well thank god for that!

At times, he comes back to me.  My P-M.  He looks like my husband and calls me "baby" in the way that only he can.  And I welcome him back....and then slowly his eyes change and he begins to wonder why the nurses live on the crack in the wall and I know that I have some time to wait until my husband returns.

These are scary times....in so many ways....

On this Independence Day, I am hoping that the many "bodies" being attacked by the many "cancers" are able to find friends to depend on, compatriots to rely on and independence from that which attacks them.

Observations from 5A....

We are back in the hospital.  We are on the 5th floor, A Building.  We missed our nurses.

Well we didn't actually, though they are lovely, P-M's stupid cancer cells are as stubborn as he is and they did not respond to the first round of chemo.  So we have to start a second, more aggressive regimen that will hopefully be more successful at attacking the lymphoma.

In the meantime, we have lots of time to think, chat, sit, sleep, and observe.....observe things like this:

• It is true that there is an alarming number of doctors who are Indians.  It's like my people have joined together to cure my guy.  

• We have two doctors.  Dr. El- Shami and Dr. Lari.  Dr. El-Shami is our oncologist.  He's awesome.   He calls me Natasha and Pierre-Marie, Mr. Lasseron.  I don't know why, but he does.  I make him hug me and he does.  Dr. Lari is Pakistani. But I don't think he's ever been there.  He has a girlfriend, really curly hair, rides a motorcycle and reminds me of a very special man who lives in the Nilgris.  I have decided to knit everyone scarves and hats.  And I told Dr. El-Shami that I am adopting him into our family.  He didn't seem to balk at that. 

• Time in hospitals is a weird thing.  I usually get here for rounds in the morning at about 8:30 and leave once P-M is settled for the night.  Those days feel like they fly by.  And yet, they are the longest days of my life.  I have no idea what day of the week it is and no sense of what I do all day, but I am busy and everyday feels like a Monday.

• There are other families on the floor that you begin to recognize. You eye each other as fellow comrades in arms but don't get too close.  A woman in room 504 is named Mumtaz.  I see her family in the family waiting room.  They remind me of my family.  Indian and loud.

• I will never eat at Au Bon Pain again.  Ever.  In a million years.  It is the only shop here.  We eat there often.  Clam chowder, chicken noodle, avocado BlT, the good egg.....never again.  I mean never again after we kick this cancer. 

• My heart has never hurt as much as it did watching P-M in pain.  Breathing through his mouth and hoping it will pass.  Twisting and turning on his bed looking for a position that he feels comfortable in.  Hands gripped on the side of his bed.  The cancer is breaking his body.  His pain is breaking m heart.  

• Dilaudid is great.  Medicine is great.  Chemo can be magical when it works and a fickle friend when it doesn't.

• P-M had his first big breakdown. He had a spinal tap that was very painful.  When he came back I could see that he was tender and fragile.  He cried, I cried, I held him and whispered that we were going to be ok.  That he was going to be ok.  ...we were our own Hallmark movie.  Maya, who happened to be visiting, was trapped in the corner....Poor girl.  

Chemo 2.0

• I have never had more appreciation or admiration for nurses.  They do some terribly icky things with much grace, care and empathy.  We have had a few interesting run ins with some of our care takers.  The "Over Sharer" who lets us know about her dates.  The "Demander" who insists on having everything done their way without discussion or explanation.  But more than anything we have had the "Empathizer" who makes sure that P-M and I are ok.  The "Reassurer" who makes sure that we have all we need.  The Nurses of 5A are amazing and keep us grounded and taken care of. 

• I think the robes are really ugly.  Someone should make softer and more attractive ones.  I think I would make them in a variety of warm neutrals.  There are socks too.  That have treads on them. They come in yellow, green and blue.  The are the better f the two, and yet, they lack imagination.

You know that song "What a Difference a Day Makes".  Well with cancer it is so true.

• Tuesday - We came in to start Chemo.  Dr. El-Shami did not like the fact that his stomach was distended and he was short of breath.  

• Wednesday-  He had a spinal tap and one lung drained.  His pain was severe and the emotional weight of it all was heavy.  He cried and I cried. 

• Thursday- More pain killers, more draining, more pain.

• Friday- More pain killers, chest tubes inserted on either side, more pain.

• Saturday- We went for a walk.  He ate a yogurt.  And drank an apple juice.  A small victory...a huge step.... 

The Natural Haircut

Pierre-Marie and I have lots that we quibble about.  We're both stubborn opinionated people so of course we have things that we argue about over and over.  He hates that I will make a late night snack and leave the kitchen a mess.  I think he rambles on incessantly sometimes.  He consistently nags me to not put my purse on the table, "you put that thing everywhere and then leave it where we eat".  I hate that he won't throw out old t-shirts or buy shoes that don't make him look homeless.

But the one fight we have, religiously, every three months is the the HAIRCUT fight.

It starts like this.

Week 1
Me:  Honey, think you should get a haircut.  (it's looking a little rough around the edges)
Him:  It's on my to do list

Week 2
Me: Babes, so, I'm thinking maybe you should just schedule a little clean up this week.
Him: Yeah, yeah, I know...it's on my list

Week 3
Me:  Ok, seriously, you have to get your freaking hair cut.  You look crazy
Him:  I know...I know...it's on my list

Week  4
Me:  Get a haircut or else....
Him:  👀

We're clear for a month or two and then start it again.

P-M and I were on week 2 of our haircut fight when he was diagnosed.  At that point, he thought, what the hell....I don't need to get a haircut because my hair is about to fall out.  And I agreed.  So we started chemo and were told from the beginning that with this treatment he would lose his hair.

The beginning

And we waited.  Sarah had finally convinced him to let her trim his hair with the electric razor that Simon had brought to the hospital.  He didn't look as scruffy and I stopped talking about the hair.  I'd come home from work and attempt to slyly run my hands through his hair to see if anything came out.  He always caught me and said, nope not yet.  And we'd laugh.

Last Thursday, I came out of the shower and P-M said it's starting.  Not sure what was, I asked and he showed me his hand full of his hair.  I asked him if he wanted to shave it, but in case you weren't aware, my husband is French, so he said, in great earnestness.  "No, there's no need.  It will fall out when it's ready."

And.....it's coming off

Psychologically, I was not ready to watch strand by strand to fall out.  Logistically, I didn't want to have to clean that up.  But I left for work and hoped for the best.  Coming home that night he had on a cap.  He said a lot had fallen in the shower.  Our friends, Kelli and Sebastien, had invited us over that evening and with a few words from Sebastien, our Man was convinced to shave the rest of it off.  

And so in week 5, he got the haircut that  I had been hankering about, but for all the wrong reasons.  

I, too, wanted to get in on the action

This is not because of the haircut....he normally look like this!

He looks concerned....

Oscar Wilde said that a man's face is his autobiography, for my man, his face and hair shows that he is ready to kick cancer's ass!

Father’s Day

Growing up, my brother and I never celebrated Father’s Day. Not because we don’t believe in it but because my father never felt it necessary (according to him it has fascist roots and is capitalistic). I’m sure we gave him some art projects here and there created in class when we were younger, planned by our teachers. But as a family, we never went out of our way to make a celebration out of Father’s Day.

As my dad says, “Every day is Father’s Day.” I agree with that statement! As children, we have a responsibility to say thank you and be appreciative of what our parents have done. Oftentimes, we fall short because we lose sight of the big picture. Since becoming a teacher in NYC, I have also noticed that some children don’t have parents worth thanking.

Although I did not celebrate Father’s Day this year, the day itself definitely brought on a different meaning for me. I’ve always appreciated my father, but my perspective on our relationship has majorly altered since his cancer diagnosis.

Simply put, my father is a wonderful human being. He loves hard and sets very high standards. When growing up, this was difficult for me to handle. Mostly because I am very much the same way. Him and I would argue all the time and it took me leaving home for college and then for the Peace Corps to let my heart grow fonder as the distance grew longer. My dad is a pusher but I give him so much credit now because he helped me grow into the strong person I am today.

My father is worth celebrating every day, and it was beautiful and overwhelming to see how many others have been feeling the same since the news broke of his cancer. Living in NYC, therefore away from home, is challenging because I am removed from this journey. Knowing that he has people in his corner to support him gives me comfort. Love heals and that is what you are all giving him, healing. It also gives me comfort to know that Simon and Natasha are not alone – cancer has become part of their daily routine in a way that it hasn’t for me. They are in the thick of it, along with my father.

My father is worth celebrating every day not because he now has cancer but because, simply put, he is a wonderful human being. I give thanks that I get to call him papa and look forward to many more days of celebrating him.

Dad using the electric razor that Simon bought him. I had the pleasure of giving him
a nice "clean" cut in the back, and Natasha was appreciative of the final results.
It's a team effort! 

Chemo is Like a Box of Chocolates

Forrest Gump mentioned that life is like a box of chocolates...you never know what you're gonna get.   Little did mama Gump know that life is not the only thing that is a box of chocolates.

In fact, chemo is like a box of chocolates.  And each side effect a different flavor of frustration, surprise, humor and disappointment.

The Milk Chocolate Caramel-  Leg swelling is a common side effect of chemotherapy.  One minute you find yourself walking around on lily white legs (P-M's legs are achingly white) and the next you're related to Bilbo Baggins.  Besides the fact that hobbit feet are quite unattractive, the swelling can possibly be caused by a blood clot so off you go back to the ER.  And when you get to the ER, Monica, one of the nurses from your last visit comes by to say "hello" and check on you.   And you both hug like long lost friends.

Cherry Cordials- Day to day life changes.   Schedules shift and activities take on a slower pace.  Our normal late night suppers are relegated to the Early Bird Special of 7 o'clock; nap times become events of the day and showers a production.  Outings are limited and fatigue the dictator of the schedule.  I finally had to figure out where the trash cans are and am so thankful for Instacart.  Mika is getting used to hanging out Simon and has finally come back to sitting near P-M.  Flowers are not allowed, processed foods eliminated, and broth making happening at home...So we're learning that change is the constant. 

The Dark Chocolate Raspberry Parfait- Needles are a commonplace tool when dealing with doctors and hospitals.  For many a stick here and a prick there is something that occurs once in a while.  For Chemo patients, a PICC line is inserted into your arm.  This is often done when multiple other shots have already been inserted into arms and legs but the need for access to a vein becomes consistent.  The tattooing that comes from this is purely unintentional and the marking left behind waxes and wanes and creates patterns of blues and grays.  And then one day, after many days, we expect them to vanish only to be replaced by a new design.

Pecan Delights- Visitors....A total side effect of chemo.  And when you're lucky (like we are) you have many of them.  And they show up and and they bring food and flowers and good wishes and hugs, lots and lots of hugs.  Kids walk dogs and take out trash.  They come down from NYC and plan outings.  Sisters clean homes and friends, dear friends, bring chowders and quiches.  They, the visits and visitors, are delightful.



White Praline Heart- Chemo and cancer changes your heart.  I don't know if does from a scientific perspective but it does from a symbolic one.  P-M and I remind each other that it's ok to cry, that work is not what defines us (who knew), that we love each other, that we have a caring and supportive community of people around us, that cancer sucks, that we are not cancelling our trip this summer but rescheduling it, that we are scared and emotional, that life has to continue on.  We know in our heart of hearts that we have a choice to either manage this lymphoma or let it manage us.  And we have decided that our hearts and spirits are stronger than to let this manage us (at least most days we do).

So, for now, we sit with our box of chocolates.  They (the wise ones) say that sugar feeds cancer.  In this case, I am finding that these "chocolates" remind me of our humanity, feed our soul, frustrate the daylights out of us, comfort us when sad and show us when to celebrate.  Our box of chocolates continues to grow and some of them I want to gobble up and others I want to put back after taking a nibble. Though my mama always told me that you can't put a chocolate back once you've taken a bite!  So, I'll keep the ones I have and hope for more Pecan Delights!!!

Thank God It's Lymphoma

Pierre-Marie called me while I was at a Middle School Music Performance and told me that he needs to go to the ER.  He had fluid in his lungs.  That was May 23rd.  That was the "pre" life where words like cancer, transplant, chemo and T Cell didn't exist.  It was a time of school, work, vacation planning and counting down the days to summer.  That was the "pre".

The "post" life came after an ER visit yielded a preliminary diagnosis of lymphoma for Pierre-Marie.  Or rather, we were told,  there were markers for lynphoma.

It was life altering and world changing and Pierre- Marie and I left the hospital reeling from the news that was handed to us in the same way someone might tell us that we need new brakes for the car or our bathroom had mold.  We left the ER knowing that there would have to be more doctor appointments and more waiting and even more fear that our lives had been changed unequivocally.

Today, we are grateful for the fact that we have a lymphoma diagnosis.  To be accurate, P-M was diagnosed with stage 4 T-Cell lymphoma.  Stage 4 lymphoma is curable, possibly.  Stage 4 lymphoma is better than a solid cancer that has reached stage 4.  Stage 4 lymphoma gave us hope.

Always thinking! 

We are back home.  In the week that we spent at the hospital, my guy was poked and prodded, reminded of the importance of community, scared and hopeful.  Days were long and nights felt short with constant interruptions.  We went from a pretty dire situation last Monday to a more hopeful one on Tuesday.  There was a bone marrow biopsy and spinal tap.  He did well with the chemo only vomiting once and he most definitely enjoyed the prednisone.   So much so that I was asking for some just so I could put up with his manic talking....

He looks the same....

As for me, I cried a lot and spent time at the hospital.  For the first time,  I pushed work to the background and apparently, they were fine though I am not sure how I feel about that.  I put on the coat of a new normal realizing that for now our old normal is a thing of the past.

At this point, the cancer has not spread to nor did it originate from the bone marrow.  This is excellent news.  We wait to hear about what the sub type is and if there are cancer cells hiding in his brain stem.  In the meantime, I have him home.  He is a bit of a pain the ass asking for all sorts of things, but I am so glad that he is here bugging me for stuff and even more glad that this is Lymphoma....

After all, everything is relative!!

And we're off!!!