So…there isn’t really much to update. Chemo has been history for three weeks and all we can say is “good riddance.” But everything else is about the same. Chemo brain is a pernicious, persistent pestilence. I hate it. Not as much as chemo itself…but almost. I miss old Adam. Thankfully, we are all getting more and more glimpses of him. He is eating better, staying awake more, and is slightly less…erratic. He goes in to the radiation oncologist next week to be “marked” for radiation. That actually means that he’s getting tattooed. Which does make me smile. He wants a cancer survivor tattoo also, and this marks a huge change for him. I have wanted a tattoo (or at least had the safety to say so since I could blame him for not getting it) for many years. The time may come, if the desire remains as chemo brain fades. In the meantime, I torture him with ideas of what marks they could put on his hips next week. In fact, the marking appointment is scheduled for his dad’s birthday…what a tribute! But alas, this is not a creative inking…. And then radiation begins. We have been in deliberate denial about this coming treatment – it is our way of letting today have only today’s allotment of trouble – but it is coming time to think about how the next several weeks will look. We have another six days of willful ignorance, and then we must face decisions, planning, and whatever trials radiation will bring. Pray for us all. We are so tired of this, but we want to finish well. At least…I really hope we all want the same thing. That may one of the biggest prayer concerns!
In the meantime, I feel like I am seeing and hearing about cancer everywhere. Those who are being given ever worsening news about their prognosis or recurring tumors or failed treatments. The hope they have in the face of this suffering is humbling…and the fear can be crippling: there but for the grace of God go we all. So we take one breath at a time and fight to be thankful for what we have. We seek to be helpful and also receptive to the help of others. We try to be a couple and a family when we each prefer to selfishly wallow in our grief. And I cry a lot. And sometimes yell. “But aren’t you glad it’s over?” OVER?!?! Only chemo is over. Everything else marches on. God bless us all. Because those who mourn will be comforted.