Hope
March 3rd 2011
D-Day. Diagnosis day. Only we didn’t know it at the time. We were young,naivete and swept up in the post surgery recovery. We met with the surgeon two weeks before for staples removal and he referred us to a neuro-oncologist to go over the pathology report. We weren’t even thinking cancer. Or worried about it. The surgeon told us he removed the tumor in its entirety of what the human eye can see and his preliminarily report was it was benign , low grade tumor . But, of course he told us the official pathology reports will be discussed with the expert, in our appointment in two weeks, March 3rd 2011.
That day we met with the hubby’s oncologist for the first time. We sat wide eyed in a patient room and a doctor walked in and the first thing she did was a double take at us and say “Oh, young people!”
She sat down and we started talking , medical history and what not. Then she went into professor mode and explained tumors of the brain. She compared the hubby’s tumor to an octopus. So while they removed the “head”, there still are “tentacles” spread out like a web that are either invisible to the human eye or attached to active and non-removable brain matter.
She didn’t drop the C bomb. She danced around it.
She explained grades of the tumor on a scale of 1-4 with stage one being lowest and observational and stage 4 being terminal.
Which led us to ask the obvious question, what stage was the hubby?
She replied Stage 3.
And I asked flat out, this is cancer? She slouched her shoulders a little bit , like the weight of the world was on her shoulders.
She said yes.
I remember looking at the hubby, jitter-ing his leg and searching his eyes. I kept my eyes wide, not allowing tears to build up. The doctor launched into the usual cancer talk. Explaining the hubby’s tumor and type of cancer and level of aggressiveness. We spoke with her for over an hour and eventually she breached the treatment topic. It was then and there she wished for an immediate start of an aggressive phase of treatment, radiation congruent with chemotherapy.
The hubby turned to me and asked me what i wanted. I bite my tongue. I knew what i wanted. But, it’s his choice. His decision. I’ll support him either way. I told him so.
He looked at the doctor and said “Well, you’re the doctor and this is what i need to do medically, I’ll do it”.
We were shuffled about with arrangements being made for us with a radiation oncologist and appointments were being made for everything down to blood work. Paperwork were filled out for us for countless programs and grants and i signed without reading. It happened all so fast. ( It was all good stuff, the doctors enrolled the hubby into a program which would pay for his chemo and other high priced medication).
We went from being in a naive little bubble of surviving surgery thinking that was that. He survived. It was ending.
But, it was really just starting.
And that is how March 3rd 2011 became D-Day. Two days before his birthday the hubby found out he had an aggressive tumor that is Stage 3 Brain Cancer
It is now two years later. The second anniversary of D-Day. The one thing with cancer is living the life of uncertainty. The hubby just had his cancer check up rounds with doctors and met with a new oncologist ( our original one left a year ago and we have been with a temp doctor while this current doctor relocated to the area to take up a permanent position at this hospital). We have known from the start the hubby’s type of cancer is aggressive. Meaning it comes back. They told us usually 3-5 years is the time period of a recurrence. Though it could come back at any time. They said once we pass the 3-5 window, the odds increase greatly. And just hopefully, hopefully, it would be many many years without the tumor coming back. But, in all medical honestly, they just do not know. They have no assurance to give us except to stay vigilant with watching for symptoms and keeping consistent with scans. But, the closer we get to that 5 year mark is so important. Important for survival. Important to lessen the uncertainty.
We live lives full of stress ,anxiety ,worry and concern …filled with doubt and unsure of our futures. But, each year we can gain a slice of it back. Instead of being scared for each of his cancer anniversaries ( Surgery anniversary, radiation completion , chemo completion etc) I chose to be another way. I choose to be determined. Positive. It is an accomplishment to reach a milestone mark and celebrate it. Not let it be a ticking time bomb. The hubby doesn’t think much of these dates, but i do. It’s a date of how much he struggled, how much he was sick, yet just as much as he has lived. And will keep living. Taking back what cancer took away.
The hubby now has two scratches on his bedpost. 2 down, 3 to go.
Corner of Confessions 