Alas.
The first round of chemo was definitely full of ups and downs. It has been three weeks since out first intravenous chemotherapy and on monday we go in for round two. The doctor expects we will have a 4 total with 3 week intervals.
Chemo in and of itself was not really that bad. Its all the other shit that made the last 3 weeks tough. Firstly, mom spiked a fever the second day in. 102.9 which is high, so we called the Cedars Cancer Center (where she is being treated) and they told us to bring her in. We were there for 6 hours (till 1am that evening...). they feared she might have an infection so they made us go back every day for 5 days in a row to get an intravenous antibiotic. She didn't have nausea, she wasn't sick or too shitty- but the antibiotic was a total ass chap. She felt terrible before we even left the hospital. And 5 days in a row feeling fine and then taking the antibiotic and feeling like shit- it was pretty obvious that it was the antibiotic that was the cause. But once that was over- things started to look up. She was feeling better and the side effects were waning.
We went and saw Dr Natale, our medical oncologist, who recommended we see a neck/ bone specialist for the persistent pain in her neck. It is now apparent to us that the cancer is under control, being treated and hopefully very soon will be a part of our past. What is also becoming fairly obvious to us is that her neck is not. The pain in her neck, albeit better than 2 months ago, is still very much present and still quite debilitating. It is the reason she stays in bed, it is the reason she takes pain killers, it is the reason she has bad days.
This fucking bad neck.
So began "the Neck doctor escapade" that has taken up much of our days in the last few weeks. We saw the orthopedist who couldn't open our mri and ct files on two separate cds, on two separate occasions and kept us waiting for almost 6 hours combined between two visits. We finally gave up on him. We went back to our Radiation Oncologist who took sympathy and wrote a prescription for Physical Therapy for mom, but she can't get into see her therapist until early July. Then there was the spinal specialist who wants to give my mom an operation to stabilize her neck.
To which she replied, "oh man, I don't want a fucking operation." the doctor at that point asked if she was from New York. Of course he did.
The one thing we have figured out is that this neck problem is no joke, and isn't going to just go away. And that's a pretty hard one to swallow. Who knew cancer would be the easier thing to treat?
And thru all this is my mom, in so much pain and trying so hard to keep it together. She is weak and feels like hell most days. For most of you, it would blow your mind to see her like this, as it blows mine. This vital, strong, potent, taking names and kicking ass woman is so frail, and so weak, it's disarming to see. And there she is, being driven and schlepped from doctor to doctor, each more confusing than the next. All making her wait for hours- assuming their time is more important than hers. Infuriating. We all hate to wait for doctors, but when it hurts to simply sit upright and be asked to wait for over an hour: Something is wrong with the system here.
And so although we would like to see more doctors, for now- we just can't bear it.
So we go home, and we cook food thats hard for her to eat. And we change her diet- to simply fatten her up because now she's lost 18 pounds- a mere shadow of herself.
And we pack. When shes feeling up to it she says: "ok Chase, lets go thru the pantry". And I bring her things and she makes piles, sell, keep, colorado, california.
And she argues with me and dad about keeping her treadmill, and we worry about how to fit all the shit in the garage until we can take it to colorado, and we go to see the new apartment, and Carter and Nikky come over and cook and make a mess of the kitchen. And Irma comes and cleans up after all of us.
And we have visitors. So many wonderful visitors, some come for an hour, some come for the day, some even spend the night. Sweet Angela Foster stayed for a week. Some bring flowers or send cards or bring meals. And our dog Joey barks and licks each and every one of them.
And we pack now all the time. And there is never really a moment off. Because it's doctors, and meals, and packing and sleep.
And it's exhausting.
And it's sad, and beautiful, and powerful, and painful.
And it's real.
cuz its survival.
Each and everyday.
Just like it always is. For everyone.
And thru all this, we hold together tight
and we fucking handle this,
because we have to
and we remain,
The Carters.
