We've taken another step on the journey out of hell. Chemotherapy has started and so far, so good.
In the interest of trying to save George's hearing (already poor) the chemotherapy oncologist has decided to use a different chemo drug than originally planned. This type is not as effective but will help preserve his hearing. The positive side of this negative situation is that he should not have any hair loss and he will keep at least some of his hearing.
The treatment takes about 5 hours. They give him 2 different pain medications, Atavan and then 3 different IV bags. The combination of pain killers and anxiety medication puts him to sleep almost immediately. I may visit for a few minutes at a time or bring him something to drink, read, etc., but because of a lack of space I cannot stay in the infusion room with him. That leaves me to wait at the doorway to hell. I cannot sit in that waiting room; maybe with time I will be able to, but I am not quite ready to face the reality of the road ahead. Selfish...sure...,closed-minded...,probably...but for right now it is not something I can do.
Radiation was supposed to begin this week as well but a fistula has opened at the suture site of the stoma and that must be healed first.
Add another thing to the list of things I can now do---I can clean and pack an open wound as well as anyone!
At this point in time George is doing better than I am. He's healing very well (except for the fistula)and his determination and spirits are high. I am exhausted, short-tempered and very emotional. Scheduling his treatments, tests and doctor's visits has been a staggering undertaking and has pushed my job and my emotions to the very edge.
Putting his treatments on hold was the last nudge I needed to fall over that edge and, once again, I find myself sitting in a plastic chair crying like I'm five and my chocolate bar has been taken away.
Good Lord, I am tired. I've raised two children and have been with my grandson almost every day - and night - of his 14 years. I equate my exhaustion now with the exhaustion I experienced when they were very small. There does not seem to be much difference.....except that I am soooo much older now!!!!
I know this will get worse before it gets better but I'm sure some sleep and a decent meal (eating in the bathroom where he can't see me eat what he can't have doesn't count) would make it a little easier to bear.
My brain is fried, my emotions parallel the roller coaster at our local theme park and my patience runs the gamut from overflowing to missing in action. I pray for strength: strength to wade through this jungle; strength to be everything George needs me to be and strength to not lose myself while trying to obtain the first two.