Maggie woke up sad and I woke up angry. But we share this sick feeling in the pit of our stomachs. We are trying to smile but it’s tough. And we both agree that it seems to hurt a lot worse this time around. I think the second time around it’s just harder to start the climb when you know what the hill looks like. Or is the hill bigger this time around? It looks it from where we’re standing. Continue reading
Today sucked. Our Spa visit set the new bar for crappy. At one point, we had at least four nurses, two pharmacists and two EKG machines working on Maggie at one time. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Continue reading
The cancer has spread to her lungs and chest. Friday we’ll start CPT-11 and Erbitux.
My heart hurts.
This morning we had our umpteenth CAT scan. Same drill – drink berry-flavor barium yuckiness, half a bottle two hours before, the remaining one hour before; sit forever in the cold waiting room; small IV in the arm; ugly, thin gown; lay very still in the machine; weird dye high with the IV push; and done. We did get through it this time without throwing up, which is definitely a plus. The CAT machine is pretty happy about that, too. Continue reading
I find that with time I’ve been able to soften the sharp edges on the memories of what happened to us last year. I suppose that type of brain wiring is intentional by design else life would be a lot more challenging than it is already. Thankfully, Maggie and I can carry on daily with blissful ignorance of what’s going to happen. We are having a great time and living a wonderful life full of excitement and bright futures. But, just like a beaten dog that cowers from a raised hand, one quick phone call can sure palpitate my heart. Continue reading
Yesterday’s Spa visit was interesting but nothing too worrisome. Maggie’s port-o-cath is acting up and Dr. Loukas has planned to reduce Maggie’s dosage of Avastin “until something happens.” Continue reading