I’m struggling with a couple issues (actually, many issues but you don’t have time for all that so we’ll focus on two):  hope is what keeps me up at night AND cancer is like water on stone. Over time, it makes a mark on your psyche. It’s odd, really. When I talk to Ken, I am a cheerleader all the time. One day, he said “let’s make the assumption that I’ll be around for awhile.” And I said, “I’ve always assumed that.”

However, in the secret dark of night, where fear and hope battle, hope sometimes takes a beating, like last night. When I finally fell asleep a little before 4 this morning (and then slept through my alarm at 5, of course, meaning that all three people relying on me today were late) I dreamed that I was following Ken into chemo, down a long hallway with many turns and doors. Of course, I lost him and was running along it, calling to him. I kept bumping into people and ending up in weird places (the lobby of my old job, a locker room(?), my son’s school) but I woke up with a start at 5:30 without finding Ken. Who won that battle – hope or fear?

So, ANYWAY, I promised to (become) relentlessly cheerful in this post. So, first a little story:  I love to dance along to weird music in retail establishments. (The first step in getting help is admitting you have a problem, right?!) Two of my children play, er … dance?, along. So, anyway, one day, Haley and I are in some (nearly empty) upscale store in the Shadyside neighborhood of Pittsburgh, dancing (we’re not talking about a little head bop now and again, we’re talking full-on, arms waving, jumping, the Peanuts kids rocking out) and then stopping suddenly to shop. We’re laughing. Haley has a gift card and finally picks out what she wants so we head to the back of the store to pay. We’re smiling as we step up to the counter and the sales rep dances over to us — seriously — totally playing off our silly moves and laughing as we laugh.

We got some good news from the radiation oncologist last week. He said that the primary tumor, at least, seems to be mostly just scar tissue, that the 1-2 punch of chemo and radiation may have done their job. Ken has a PET/CT scan scheduled (finally, we got approval from the insurance company!), so we’ll get details later this week and maybe an explanation for the swelling and back pain.

There was a lot more to our discussion with the radiation oncologist — the PET/CT, chemo, additional radiation, the surgeon’s recommendation. The doctor emphasized that Ken needs to get as much light exercise as he can tolerate. That’s a little harder “done than said.” Ken’s still healing from radiation (very slowly now that he’s on chemo again) and his leg is still swollen to tree-trunk proportions.

Today was another long chemo day. We started the morning with a blood draw and an appointment with the oncologist. The doctor wants us to talk with another surgeon, one who prefers surgical solutions. The oncologist said Ken needs to have a clear picture of the options. Later in the morning, the oncology social worker stopped by to visit. She’s presenting at a conference next month so we talked about the practice that goes in to good public speaking and then she shared some suggestions for enduring Ken’s chemo treatment marathon. She wants me to find someone to talk to. Apparently, it’s common for caregivers to start crumbling around the 8-9 month mark and she knows we have “… miles to go before [we] sleep” (with many apologies to Robert Frost for the presumption).

Instead of dwelling on our journey, let’s end today with a smile. I had a birthday recently and got a great book of poems, Doggerel, from my eldest. Before bed every night since, my youngest son and I have read a poem — in order of course because the book ends with poems about pet loss and I’m SO not ready for that right now!  This little snippet, “An Introduction to Dog,” by Ogden Nash, is the first poem:

The dog is man’s best friend.
He has a tail on one end.
Up in front he has teeth.
And four legs underneath.

There’s more and I highly recommend it!

Signing off now, “with hope….” (Another movie quote. Do you recognize it?)