Wednesday, July 12, 2017

Healing Love

Round two of punching cancer in the face. Yep. I said that.

The car is practically self driving now. I don't believe I've mentioned before that when we shopped for our car, we were torn between getting something really big to lug Dom's gear around in, or getting a tiny little shoe to save on gas. Feeling super grateful we opted for the shoe. Though, the days it is 105 degrees here in Sacramento, even our shoe gets thirsty. But most days, she's quite undemanding.

I've been a busy little bee at home trying to get ducks in a row. As far as animal euphemisms go, it's been more like herding kittens. I was quite a heap on Friday, but by the time we headed out yesterday morning, I was feeling much better as I was able to sort through a few things.

It's difficult for me to share the difficult times, because I like to think we're both powerful and strong, and I don't like to reveal any chinks in our armor.

But, home was so very challenging. As I shared, Dom struggled with a fever and rash the entire time. Each evening was a negotiation of how to proceed. Do we call, do we not call? So much pressure for what would normally be a little nuisance. He was so well in the hospital, I'd imagined he'd be almost his normal self at home. The disappointment ran very deep that he had to endure all the extra irritations and worries.

We arrived back to Sutter yesterday morning. We had labs at 10:30 and an appointment with the Doctor at 11:30....make that 2:30 due to whatever happens to doctors throughout the day. The office told us to go have lunch, and I wondered what that could mean, since Dom's avoiding public places and restaurants. So, we sat in the car and had cheese and crackers, and for Dom, dried seaweed. (ew!)

It was our understanding that we'd be admitted for his next round of chemo. We're new at this game. Being admitted to the hospital not on a gurney was a different experience to be sure. As the Doctor's assistant/nurse (never did get his actual title) told us to go off to lunch, I asked if we were actually going to be admitted. (Because mind you, it felt so weird to know there was a room with Dom's name on it, and we couldn't be admitted to it on what felt like a technicality.) His response was that by the look of Dom's CBC, we'd definitely be admitted. Now, what does that sound like? First impulse is to think that's bad. Being admitted equals bad, right? For a short time, minds raced that they found something bad in his blood, and more bad news was on the way.
After thinking it through, I realized, had they found something (else) bad in his blood, (you know, other than cancer), they would not have admitted him for his next round of chemo. So, in this case, being admitted is a good thing. It's progress. But I'm going to have to get even tougher on these white coats who have become too familiar with this path and forget that more than wanting to hear procedures and drugs, we want to know what does this mean?

After our gourmet picnic on the beach, (I mean lunch in the car under the freeway), we headed back for our 11:30, I mean 2:30 appointment. I had to stay back while he had a spinal tap and another bone marrow biopsy. Perfect time for a useful phone call.

After we were settled in our room, Dom relayed to me that the doctor had to go in a second time for the bone marrow....that the poking around was a little exceptional yesterday. The assistant was remarking to Dom that he was doing really well, especially considering gobbledy gook......I guess he had caught himself from saying out loud that the doctor did have to go in a second time for what he needed and just rambled some nonsense as he caught himself. Yeouch! What a day! Praying all the bad guys are gone from his cells.

We should be here just 4 days. They threw everything at him last night. Pills on the half hour for a time. It's a good thing Dom likes Terry, because that's who had a story with every pill. As long as Dom is happy, I'm happy. Did I mention on the half hour? And, as per usual, I'd wake in the middle of the night to the two of them having full conversations. In my dream state, I'd think I was in a bar. Oh no, just a nurse and his patient. I don't mind. I'm not the one being poked and prodded. As long as Dom is happy. That is what matters!

And in really good news, the Bone Marrow Transplant is covered under our insurance. The required move is not. How wonderful to afford insurance that would also cover living expenses! Goals. But processing all this, we are ever so grateful for all the help we've received so Dom can just focus on getting through this. We both know that we are not alone, and that is healing love right there.

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