Something

If you want to know what's been going on these past few weeks, read the post below called "Recovery. When?" before you continue.

I hate CT scans. I hate cancer centers. I hate oncologists. I hate waiting rooms. I hate rain. I hate retching. I hate pain. I hate cancer.

For those who have "admired my strength and faith", this is not the post for you.

There is cancer everywhere.

Well, not everywhere. The CT scan only included the chest, abdomen, and pelvis. But 3 for 3 might as well be everywhere. The official word from the oncologist was "Your CT is not looking very good." This was his gentle way of easing into the fact that there are cancer deposits throughout the abdomen, spots on the lungs, infected nodes in the pelvis, and tumor on the spine." F?*%!

Indeed, something wasn't right. The leg pain is being caused by the spinal mets (cancer lingo for metastasis). The bloating and nausea are being cause by the 1-2 liters of malignant fluid inside Dalton's abdomen. The lack of appetite...well that's just what cancer does.

They're going to radiate the spinal tumor in order to shrink it and alleviate some of the pain. There is also a fear that it could cause the bone to be severely brittle and break. Broken backs are never a good thing, so the tumor has got to go.

Unfortunately, it sounds like they won't do any more chemo until that part has been sufficiently radiated. We don't know why since they had no problem pummeling him with it all at once last fall. Maybe we'll ask again next week. In the meantime, I find myself trying to banish images of the cancer growing and growing and growing inside of Dalton while we wait. Don't they understand it's trying to kill him? And, it's winning?

They tried to go in with a needle late this afternoon and draw out some of the fluid from his abdomen so that he would be more comfortable, but his intestines wouldn't cooperate and kept blocking the entry path. They did however reschedule the procedure for next Thursday and write him a prescription for some much heavier duty pain meds. They also gave him some steroids to reduce the swelling in the spine. We're trying not to focus too much on how often they're using the word comfortable.

To be fair, the doctor said (and I quote). "This does not mean that we are throwing up our hands and giving up. There is still much more we can do." However, until we start doing something, there is this sense that there is a very nasty and aggressive tumor trying take over Dalton's body.

We talked tonight about fear and death. Hopefully, we won't continue to live in that place. We cried about Iain and little Dalton and our own potential loss. Faith was hard to muster today. Heaven is a place for old people to go after they've Seen their kids grow up. Not really, I know. But it seems like that's how it should be.

The cancer treadmill has begun once again and someone set the speed at turbo without even a warm up. We have appointments next week every day but Monday, and I promise to be more consistent in my writings. It shouldn't be too hard. I really can't sleep.