To be positive ... or to be honest ... that ... is the dilemma.
(my ex-husband) is getting better. So much better, in fact, that he doesn't have to go back to the Oncologist until October 4th. Why, then, am I sitting here at my desk trying not to cry like a baby?
He starts his next round of chemotherapy on October 4th. Yes, we knew this was coming. It isn't anything disastrous and definitely doesn't mean there's anything wrong. The second round of chemo is standard operating procedure with nasopharyngeal cancer ... and having it scheduled is no surprise.
Why do I feel so ... ugh ... I can't even come up with a word. I'm a goddamned walking thesaurus and yet I can't come up with a word. Shattered ... I feel shattered. It makes no sense, I know ... a second round of chemo is normal.
But (my ex-husband) has been doing so well ... he's bouncing back ... he even ate a hot dog (sans bun) and some corn last night. He's weeks away from a ribeye steak ... but he's making progress. He laughed with me more this weekend than he has in month. I felt the tiniest glimmer of "normal" ... not normal ... but a hazy memory of normal ... like it really could be normal again.
But now ... if I'm calculating right ... his first dose of chemo starts October 4th, then off two weeks later, he'll have a second dose on October 25th ... then the final dose will be on November 15th.
I guess the root of the issue is timing. The first two weeks of November are packed with birthdays in our family ... and that kind of kicks off the holiday season in our house ... leading into Thanksgiving and Christmas. We'd already decided we weren't doing anything for Thanksgiving this year ... but this kind of takes that out of our hands. He'll be sick for Columbus Day and Halloween and all of our birthdays including his own.
Plus there's the whole money thing. The bill for August's radiation treatments just came in and it was over $45,000 ... his last ER visit was over $8,000. We haven't seen the bill yet for his recent hospital stay ... but if they charged $8,000 for five hours worth of care, can you imagine what eight days will come to?
Thankfully, we hit our catastrophic limit back in August so our health insurance will cover 100% of everything until January 1st. But come January 1st, we're back to $20 co-pays and a $300 per person deductible. In the meantime, we're making payments to Springfield Clinic and Memorial ... and a dollar can only stretch so far.
Don't get me wrong ... I'm grateful for everything we have. And I do realize that we're blessed that things aren't worse ... but I'm crushed that he be spending autumn with a chemo pump attached to his port ... and the idea of putting up a Christmas tree amidst all this is more depressing than I can put into words.
He is doing better ... he is getting stronger. Maybe tomorrow will look brighter. Tomorrow will just have to take care of itself ... I'm not sure I can take careful of today.
Tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar
That tomorrow
There'll be sun
Annie - Tomorrow
