A note: I started this diary of our journey with cancer quite some time ago. It’s been a long haul, but I think I have what it takes to finish this now. Here we go with Part XII.
Taken at Mike and Marla’s…before the treatment side effects hit.
Christmas is swiftly coming upon us. It is going to be different for sure, but while Greg is feeling okay, we are trying to enjoy our lives with people we love. Visiting with our dear friends, Mike and Marla, whom we haven’t seen in so many years, is good for our hearts.
Being with Marla brings big smiles.
Janine and her daughter, Jordan, love to decorate their home for the holiday. Greg and I haven’t done any decorating since our kids grew up and left home, so this is quite a change. It’s very festive, I have to say, and somehow it cheers us both.
There are decorations up all over town. Even the hospital gets Christmassy. (Yes, that’s really a word).
The view from the Providence Regional Cancer Partnership on the 2nd floor where they give the radiation treatments.
One day leads to another. The rhythm of riding the ferry, driving to the hospital, slipping into a hospital gown, being slid into the radiation machine becomes so familiar he can do it without much thought. Although reality means there are many thoughts and questions swirling around our brains. Each day of treatment brings a different ugly physical reaction for Greg. He is being fairly stoic, and maintaining a pretty good sense of humor, in spite of the roller coaster ride that is radiation and chemotherapy.
Heading out from Mike and Janine’s driveway to the ferry.
As people who live with a dog, we have to make this daily grind work well for us and help make the new routine as comfortable as possible for Isabela. If she thinks we’re getting in the car to go somewhere to play with her she gets so excited she can’t stop barking and bouncing around from window to window in the car. This behavior consequently drives us crazy. This is a stress we do not need.
As I said before, every morning as we climb into the car to head for Everett, I tell her, “We’re going to the hospital. We’re taking Daddy to the hospital.” Repeating this helps her to understand that we are NOT heading to the beach or the park to entertain her. Rather, she soon learns that “going to the hospital” means she is going to be stuck in the car for a considerable amount of time. When she learns the new routine, sees that we’re heading to the ferry, she gets in the car, lies down, looks dejected, but remains quiet.
In order to have something positive to do while I wait for Greg to finish his treatments, I bring along lime green and royal blue yarn for crocheting hats and scarves for Seahawks fans.
There is a place in the lobby where cancer patients can go for information (there is a lot of it) and to pick out donated items like the ones I make. In the Seattle area, Friday is the day many people wear their Seahawks’ colors, so my scarves and hats prove to be popular. They get snatched up as soon as I get them finished. Plus, while I’m crocheting, the yarn keeps me warm and gives me something positive on which to focus, instead of filling my mind with worries. It works pretty well for me, though I have to admit I do a lot of worrying these days. Things are changing rapidly now.
Attempting to get into the holiday spirit, I paint a rock for Jordan.
Our hosts go to celebrate Christmas with Janine’s brother’s family and we have their beautiful home to ourselves for a few days. They left a stocking filled with goodies for Isabela and she has a lot of fun “opening” it.
Christmas comes and goes. It’s getting more and more difficult for Greg, and he has a couple extreme bouts of nausea and vomiting. His color isn’t good. His hair is starting to fall out in the back of his head, in a strange, straight line.
To very little fanfare, on New Year’s Eve, Greg turns 63. He isn’t in the mood to celebrate. Meals are no longer enjoyed. Greg has always been thin, but now his weight drops quickly. Swallowing is impossible, and there is a lot of mucous.
It’s time to start hanging the bag of Boost from a pole and have it trickle into the stomach tube for feeding. Doing this kind of feeding is emotionally challenging. We both find it difficult to mentally prepare. But of course it is a lot worse for my husband than it is for me. I can busy myself with the details, go through the motions of programing the pump, filling the bag, keeping track of how much he’s getting, etc. He’s the one that has to sit in a chair hooked up to this contraption as the concoction drips slowly through the tube into his stomach.
It’s hard to look forward to eating, especially if you have to have it dripping into a tube that goes into your stomach and it’s the stuff you vomited up the last time you had it.
He got so horribly dehydrated we had to go to the hospital for hydration. We waited for four hours to be seen in the emergency room. After having to be hydrated at the hospital a few times, the decision to order supplies for at-home hydration seems the only way to go. I will learn another skill to help Greg get through this.
We are now moving from Mike and Janine’s to another friends’ home. For January, we previously made plans to trade houses with Dennis and Joni, who live on Whidbey Island too.
Joni and Dennis trade houses with us.
It’s not too far from where we’ve been living. They will be flying to Baja and staying in our house for seven weeks. Lucky for them!
Greg is so sick now that he can’t help me with the move. He’s lying on the couch just trying not to throw up. He’s so weak. I make several trips with all our stuff to Joni and Dennis’s. How did we manage to get so much? Winter clothes are bulky, but a lot of it is related to feeding and hydrating Greg. I have cases of boost, all the things related to his feeding and a myriad of hydration equipment. It’s quite a feat making sure everything gets transferred over there and making sure Greg is taken care of. Not to mention what to do with Isabela. In our new home we will have chickens to feed. I will need to let them out for hours at a time too. Isabela and chickens? This is going to be interesting.
The home of Joni and Dennis, our new digs for 7 weeks.
They have a rabbit too.
January 2017. We are moved in. I’m tired. Greg is so sick and weak. Isabela is unsettled. Where are we now? What’s going to become of us? Life is definitely interesting…but oh, so very tough.
Your face may give away your age, but youth can remain a state of mind. At least that’s what I tell myself. I’m telling myself this as I inspect the face I see in the mirror. It’s the face of my mother! I swear every time I look in the mirror, my mom is there. Where did I go? Where did all the time go?
