Let the second round begin *DING*.
L goes in for this second round of chemo tomorrow, at 8:45 in the AM, adding suck to what already sucks.
Since he reported back to the doctor how he felt after the last chemo, the doctor was able to change some things up. He is adding some anti nausea meds to the drip that are slow release so they should go into effect several days later, which is when L was feeling the most sick. He also was able to give a script that L could take over the weekend to help him feel less out of it and more human than he had last time.
Last time was a pretty tough journey. L felt like crap on a stick for much of the time after. By the time he felt more human, he was at the point where his immune system was the lowest, giving him that flu getting sick feeling. This last week or so he finally has been himself, just in time to start this process again. Cancer, you suck.
Sorry I have not kept up with the blog. All I have to say is God bless single parents because keeping a household running while working full time and all the volunteer work I do, was really running me thin. A big THANK YOU goes out to LR for delivering dinner to my door even after me telling her I didn't need anything; I do love it when people ignore me when they know best (not said with sarcasm, I seriously do). It gave me one night that I could just sit on my butt (and finally write up those PTA meeting minutes lol). It has been an exhausting journey going through this.
It's amazing how high stress levels can get, even if you are not the one that actually HAS the disease.
We are hanging tough because that's what NKOTB tell you to do and you should seriously listen to them, they are rich, you know.
I also didn't blog right after because being in that room with all the other people getting chemo was seriously traumatic for me. There was a beautiful woman there, that was talking to another classic beauty about wig types. They were both excited to finally finish this chemo round so they could hurry out and go shopping before they started feeling badly. One of them had breast cancer, but before they discovered it, it had metastasized to her bones. She was currently fighting it in her spine, as well as other locations in her body. She was so upbeat, looking forward to Mexican food and shopping. I had to fight my instinct to just want to go put my arms around her and hold her, hoping some of the strength she was carrying herself with would come into me. I even shed tears as I write this. The way she just kept moving forward was mind blowing to me. I cannot imagine having to say good bye to my children, knowing I would not be there. It made my heart hurt for all the people that fight this every day and don't have the good cancer like L was lucky to get. What a fucking horrible disease. So many lives have been hurt by this and it just keeps on happening. It made me feel guilt for any emotion I was having regarding L. It could always be worse, but I guess that's true about whatever shit life throws at you. It's all relative until you have to say goodbye to your family.
So, that's mostly why I didn't blog. It hurt too much. Cancer hurts too much.
Thursday, November 13, 2014
Saturday, October 11, 2014
The Hulk vs Spiderman...what are you going to choose ?
So, honestly, I have been pretty good at coasting along with this whole cancer thing. It's mostly been pretty easy to just not think about. Since the surgery, Lenny has been recovering nicely. Although he can't lift anything over 10 pounds, he has been busy working on Christmas light stuff, which is pretty normal for this time of year. Every once in a while, something will happen and all the sudden I'll think, "My husband has cancer. CANCER! Are you fucking KIDDING ME?!?!?!?" But, then, I'll get control again, reminding myself that it is 98% curable, a silent cheer of "I say 'Good', you say 'Cancer'! GOOD! CANCER! GOOD! CANCER!". That moment is fleeting. I'm back to normal day to day insanity I call daily life. On days where there are oncologist appointments, though, it's not so easy to pretend that things are normal. Days like this I get what I have dubbed "Cancer belly" and I am promising to not school you on what THAT entails. I love you, but you are already a little in the TMI area with this cancer type, I'm not bringing you in further.
When you have an appointment with a radiation oncologist, it's a bit freaky. Although, it started off on a high note since the first thing I saw when I walked in was a friend on television, which is always a fun thing. Weird thing, since I only really know his "off screen" identity, but it was actually nice to see a friend there. You see tons of cancer pamphlets, that's enough to make you run screaming, but alas the closest place I know is Central Market and even after all these years, I can't afford to shop there, so I guess I could hide in the café or go through the place on a sampling binge, but no, I stay put. Run on sentence for the win! You get called back and you watch a video that has some of the worse music and that's a true twilight zone experience. I'm watching a video on getting radiation. My husband is sitting in a chair that he dubbed the most uncomfortable chair anyone that has testicular cancer would ever have to sit in and we are watching a video. And there's no popcorn. WTF. We had a nice discussion with the radiation oncologist (perhaps I should make cancer bingo cards to go with my blog -- oh or a drinking game!). Lenny would have to have 10 days of treatment. Get the laser. No, he wouldn't turn into the hulk. Bumming. The biggest risk here is that he has lots of moley moley moley moley moles on his back, so we would have to have a dermatologist map those, then keep a close eye on them so he doesn't get skin cancer. Scary. Sounds like a good thing. No huge long term effects. Scares on the fact that chemo can have long term effects on the heart and cardio vascular system. We go ahead and schedule appointments.
The next day, L meets with his sleep doctor. This he can do all by himself since he does it every quarter anyway to get his mega drug prescription. The stay awake drug, no not coke or metha amphetamines. It's Provigil. It really does nothing but make you feel awake. It's an awareness drug that L had to take every day so that he can actually feel awake. He asks the doctor, so what do you recommend for a narcoleptic with apnea, radiation or chemo? The doctor has never been posed such a question and is at a loss. Aren't we all. He doubles the prescription in case things get bad. That's a good thing since, albeit I'm pretty strong for my size, I wouldn't be able to haul Lenny to the bedroom. Even after radiation since apparently that doesn't make you the Hulk. Still bummer there.
Next up is our appointment with the medical oncologist (shot). Although, I just call him the chemo guy. Because I can. Chemo is not what it used to be, apparently. When you have testicular cancer (shot), you are luckily (again with the yeah! good cancer) able to use a particular new drug that is MUCH milder than other chemo drugs. It is only used for this particular type of cancer. If he had anything else, he would have to use the chemo drug that everyone thinks about. Lose your hair, very tired, get sick. This particular drug that I can't recall the name of which is too bad since that means you don't get that next shot, is fairly mild. No long term cardiovascular effects. He only needs two rounds. But, if the first one makes him feel too bad, he doesn't even need to take the second round. Because, get this, the "official" recommendation is one OR two rounds. REALLY?? Don't get too specific there, cancer important people. So, the doctor said many of the people that have had to use this chemo gets the drug on Friday, wiped out for the weekend, back to work on Monday. He even treated a gentleman who NEVER TOLD ANYONE HE HAD CANCER. He went through the treatment and surgery, not missing a beat. Another bonus, is this gets all areas of the body that the cancer could have traveled, included his remaining unremarkable right nut. This is not the case in radiation, as it would have to be covered with a metal nut holder, although I don't think that's the actual name, just its job.
We chose chemo. aka spiderman, though I am pretty sure L won't be climbing any walls after the treatment, though I might be. :D The first treatment is on October 24th. Cancel the radiologist (shot) appointment, we are going CHEMO! We then wait three weeks, for the next round assuming the first one goes well. Scheduling is done around W's American Ninja Warrior party. His only request was that Daddy is at his party, so that's going to be what happens.
I do want to reach out to everyone reading this, though, especially ones that have sons or their own balls. Please, it is never too early to be talking about balls. This time, I am actually serious. The only time anyone really dies from this cancer is when they do NOTHING about it. Mostly, that is in younger men. They are embarrassed or afraid, or don't want to talk about it. No one should ever die from this cancer. Mom and Dads! talk to your sons about checking their balls, I am not even kidding!
I will be embarrassing and annoying my kids with the question of "Do your balls feel normal? Go check them" due to the fact this can be genetic. Please, talk about balls. Ladies, check your husbands' balls!!!! Husbands, please send notes of thank you and flowers to my home address. In the shower, it takes a second. Please, I'm begging you, know your balls. If L had not caught this when he did, things could be much, much worse. Love em and check em. It'll be a BALL...see what I did there.
When you have an appointment with a radiation oncologist, it's a bit freaky. Although, it started off on a high note since the first thing I saw when I walked in was a friend on television, which is always a fun thing. Weird thing, since I only really know his "off screen" identity, but it was actually nice to see a friend there. You see tons of cancer pamphlets, that's enough to make you run screaming, but alas the closest place I know is Central Market and even after all these years, I can't afford to shop there, so I guess I could hide in the café or go through the place on a sampling binge, but no, I stay put. Run on sentence for the win! You get called back and you watch a video that has some of the worse music and that's a true twilight zone experience. I'm watching a video on getting radiation. My husband is sitting in a chair that he dubbed the most uncomfortable chair anyone that has testicular cancer would ever have to sit in and we are watching a video. And there's no popcorn. WTF. We had a nice discussion with the radiation oncologist (perhaps I should make cancer bingo cards to go with my blog -- oh or a drinking game!). Lenny would have to have 10 days of treatment. Get the laser. No, he wouldn't turn into the hulk. Bumming. The biggest risk here is that he has lots of moley moley moley moley moles on his back, so we would have to have a dermatologist map those, then keep a close eye on them so he doesn't get skin cancer. Scary. Sounds like a good thing. No huge long term effects. Scares on the fact that chemo can have long term effects on the heart and cardio vascular system. We go ahead and schedule appointments.
The next day, L meets with his sleep doctor. This he can do all by himself since he does it every quarter anyway to get his mega drug prescription. The stay awake drug, no not coke or metha amphetamines. It's Provigil. It really does nothing but make you feel awake. It's an awareness drug that L had to take every day so that he can actually feel awake. He asks the doctor, so what do you recommend for a narcoleptic with apnea, radiation or chemo? The doctor has never been posed such a question and is at a loss. Aren't we all. He doubles the prescription in case things get bad. That's a good thing since, albeit I'm pretty strong for my size, I wouldn't be able to haul Lenny to the bedroom. Even after radiation since apparently that doesn't make you the Hulk. Still bummer there.
Next up is our appointment with the medical oncologist (shot). Although, I just call him the chemo guy. Because I can. Chemo is not what it used to be, apparently. When you have testicular cancer (shot), you are luckily (again with the yeah! good cancer) able to use a particular new drug that is MUCH milder than other chemo drugs. It is only used for this particular type of cancer. If he had anything else, he would have to use the chemo drug that everyone thinks about. Lose your hair, very tired, get sick. This particular drug that I can't recall the name of which is too bad since that means you don't get that next shot, is fairly mild. No long term cardiovascular effects. He only needs two rounds. But, if the first one makes him feel too bad, he doesn't even need to take the second round. Because, get this, the "official" recommendation is one OR two rounds. REALLY?? Don't get too specific there, cancer important people. So, the doctor said many of the people that have had to use this chemo gets the drug on Friday, wiped out for the weekend, back to work on Monday. He even treated a gentleman who NEVER TOLD ANYONE HE HAD CANCER. He went through the treatment and surgery, not missing a beat. Another bonus, is this gets all areas of the body that the cancer could have traveled, included his remaining unremarkable right nut. This is not the case in radiation, as it would have to be covered with a metal nut holder, although I don't think that's the actual name, just its job.
We chose chemo. aka spiderman, though I am pretty sure L won't be climbing any walls after the treatment, though I might be. :D The first treatment is on October 24th. Cancel the radiologist (shot) appointment, we are going CHEMO! We then wait three weeks, for the next round assuming the first one goes well. Scheduling is done around W's American Ninja Warrior party. His only request was that Daddy is at his party, so that's going to be what happens.
I do want to reach out to everyone reading this, though, especially ones that have sons or their own balls. Please, it is never too early to be talking about balls. This time, I am actually serious. The only time anyone really dies from this cancer is when they do NOTHING about it. Mostly, that is in younger men. They are embarrassed or afraid, or don't want to talk about it. No one should ever die from this cancer. Mom and Dads! talk to your sons about checking their balls, I am not even kidding!
I will be embarrassing and annoying my kids with the question of "Do your balls feel normal? Go check them" due to the fact this can be genetic. Please, talk about balls. Ladies, check your husbands' balls!!!! Husbands, please send notes of thank you and flowers to my home address. In the shower, it takes a second. Please, I'm begging you, know your balls. If L had not caught this when he did, things could be much, much worse. Love em and check em. It'll be a BALL...see what I did there.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
If this was American Ninja Warrior, L would be half way to Mount Midoriyama....
For all the American Ninja Warrior fans out there, I know you know what that means.
Stage 2
If this WAS American Ninja Warrior, L would have made it through that stage that always manages to somehow get the guys that should be a shoe in. I'm talking to you, Brent Stefansson. Letting your lady get all the glory. What a gentleman. So, Stage 2. Could be worse. Glad it's not.
He also has a couple of risk factors for spreading. One is the size of the tumor that was removed. The other is that vascular invasion is present. I told him that sounds like a movie that MST 3000 would have covered. And it would have been hilarious. Two risk factors. We should have known, as L is such a rebel. Man has never taken an illegal drug in his life and has had only a few beers. Though it was probably a risk breeding with me. :D
His kind is pure Seminoma. I looked at him and said you don't even like Florida State. :)
This is the kind that you want. So woohoo for Seminoma!!
See, you learn so much being my friends. I gave you all sorts of google worthy cancer science words that you can learn so at the next party you can sound even smarter than you already are. You do know I only hang out with smart people. <3
When they tell you that you have cancer, what they really should say is, you have what will be the biggest test in patience. I thought waiting 9 months to hold your baby would have helped how I dealt with having to wait, but, shit, I did that twice and I am ILL PREPARED for all this god DAMN WAITING!!!
There is something wrong in what we are seeing in the sonogram, it looks bad, but you need to wait until tomorrow to talk about it. We think you have cancer, you are going to need to wait a week and have surgery. We took your remarkable left nut, but you are going to need to WAIT ANOTHER WEEK before we can tell you what stage. We tell you, STAGE 2, but you are going to have to wait ANOTHER FUCKING WEEK to talk to the radiologist about your treatment plan, but that is okay, because you have to WAIT SOME MORE before you can start any treatment plan until your body heals from surgery. WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT. I remember, even when I was little, waiting was tough, especially at Christmas time, when all those gifts sat under the tree. At least that was a good wait, this is a suck ass one.
The craziest thing is that now I have this news, I am feeling so much better. My husband was diagnosed with Stage 2 cancer, yet I feel relief. Yes, I know, I'm crazy, but if you are reading this, you are well aware of that fact all ready. Maybe now it's because we see our foe, we recognize his weakness, and we know how he can be defeated! Now that we know where L stands, we can take a plan of action (everyone knows how I LOVE those) and we can take steps to rid this from L so that we can move on to the next crazy thing that slaps us in the face (more termite damage I know is on the horizon)! We have been told that there are three options. Let me break them down for you.
1. Surveillance. I personally think this one sounds kind of awesome. I can see some healthy cells sitting in a car, on their CELL phone (see what I did there), taking photos of the cancer cells, making sure they don't start wandering around the body. But, really, it just means monthly blood work, scans, and other test for a long time, then spreading them out to quarter, half year, year, etc.
2. Radiation. This is pretty much what it sounds like. Except it's not a flight to Chernobyl. L's concern with this one is the fact that it comes with a 4% cancer rate (the irony is ripe with that one) and due to his existing sleep issues, could cause him to be almost bedridden, though we have no idea since we have to WAIT A WEEK to talk to the radiation guy.
3. Chemo. No thanks. While we are going to talk to the chemo guy, I believe this will be a total last resort and I think L would opt for 1 vs this one if it came down to it.
So, this still is a 98% survival rate. No need to panic. I learned the news, went out for some retail therapy, and am feeling MUCH better (until I pull out the receipt and realize the cash I dropped), but that's how retail therapy works, no?
We are still okay, in fact I do think we are a bit better now. Now comes the dealing with work and figuring out schedules and time, etc. Due to the long hours and stressful nature of L's job, I am really hoping he can get some time off to heal and then start the radiation. You know which one I want L to choose. I am hoping we can manage that so he can have the strength to fight this battle.
So, here we go, gearing up. I'm donning my battle gear, though thinking my current uniform of a picture of balls with the left one x'ed out might not be the best thing to wear. L is resting up, hanging out in the corner until the bell rings. We are ready. We will get through this. Now, it's NO question. The only question is time. Fuck you, Waiting. You suck.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Bu-bye, ball.
Tomorrow, my husband will be removed of his remarkable left nut. Contemplating this upcoming event, I wondered, should there be some sort of ceremony? Some party to be thrown (to which my crafting mind wanders thinking of all sorts of fun and inappropriate decorations, that have to do with tennis balls and pantyhose)? So since this, in fact, was not really my part to lose, I ask the man that will be the one with the loss. He gives me that look that I see so very often, something between "Are you fucking crazy?" and "You are totally adorable!" with a little "Even if we are together for 50 more years, I will never understand how your mind works.", and says. No. No party is needed. No celebration and he declines my offer to photograph, though not sure how well THAT would scrapbook. His plans consist of watching the Daily Show then going to bed. For someone who is part of the "main event" he sure seems much calmer than I am.
I am really trying to stay positive, and I really will not miss that ball at all. I do hope the little bastard has kept the cancer to himself, but be gone, ball, be gone. I do worry about my husband being put under, how he will feel after, how I'll get him home and comfortable. I worry about how he'll shower as our fence is a little to low for me to hose him off in the back yard and all the showers are on the second floor. I worry how HE will feel after. I worry if he will TELL me how he feels after.
What I don't worry about is what kind of support I will have. So many of my wonderful friends and family members have reached out to me to offer help, distractions, and just simply words letting me know they are there. THAT is what is bringing the tears to my eyes now. I cannot describe how much it means to me that I know that I don't have to do this alone. It is overwhelming how it feels to be cared for. YOU LOVE ME YOU REALLY LOVE ME!! :) In all seriousness, I haven't had a best friend (other than my mom and sis, of course) since my early 20's, just many good friends and sometimes it makes me a little sad when I see other besties around. But, now I know I am blessed with people in my life that would be happy to take the role on and the gratitude I have for that fills my heart. So, thank you. Be prepared to get an awesome key chain from Claires that says St Ends for Christmas.
So, here we go. The first step of the journey that I am praying ends with this remarkable left nut. Prayers and good vibes welcome. I am off to pour a big glass of wine and see who gets cut from DWTS, a welcome distraction from what lies ahead.
I am really trying to stay positive, and I really will not miss that ball at all. I do hope the little bastard has kept the cancer to himself, but be gone, ball, be gone. I do worry about my husband being put under, how he will feel after, how I'll get him home and comfortable. I worry about how he'll shower as our fence is a little to low for me to hose him off in the back yard and all the showers are on the second floor. I worry how HE will feel after. I worry if he will TELL me how he feels after.
What I don't worry about is what kind of support I will have. So many of my wonderful friends and family members have reached out to me to offer help, distractions, and just simply words letting me know they are there. THAT is what is bringing the tears to my eyes now. I cannot describe how much it means to me that I know that I don't have to do this alone. It is overwhelming how it feels to be cared for. YOU LOVE ME YOU REALLY LOVE ME!! :) In all seriousness, I haven't had a best friend (other than my mom and sis, of course) since my early 20's, just many good friends and sometimes it makes me a little sad when I see other besties around. But, now I know I am blessed with people in my life that would be happy to take the role on and the gratitude I have for that fills my heart. So, thank you. Be prepared to get an awesome key chain from Claires that says St Ends for Christmas.
So, here we go. The first step of the journey that I am praying ends with this remarkable left nut. Prayers and good vibes welcome. I am off to pour a big glass of wine and see who gets cut from DWTS, a welcome distraction from what lies ahead.
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Congratulations, you have the good cancer.
Right testicle unremarkable. It said it right there on the report. We looked at each other and about the same time said "Then, I guess the left one IS remarkable" and laughed. We had to laugh. We either laughed or lost it. To be honest with you, I always have thought the balls were pretty unremarkable. I know the mechanics are amazing, but really they just hang there and they are such sensitive wussies, bringing double over pain with the slightest graze. At this point, I kinda wanted to hate his balls, but, I cannot lie, they helped bring the best things that I have ever done into this world, so I owed them something. We agreed to just hate the left one.
We had just received the news that L had testicular cancer. We also received the news that he got the "good" cancer, the one that is 98% survivable, though our primary is nice enough to say, but of course you don't want any cancer because cancer sucks. This all happened so fast, Lenny going to the doctor since something seemed a bit off, getting a sonogram. Getting the phone call that I am positive contained much more information than what I got of "It's not good" and he wants to see us tomorrow. Another aspect of my husband's protective nature of not giving me the news he just got since he knew waiting is not my thing. So, we spent the next evening with him doing his endless research and reporting back to me and me trying to gauge how he was feeling and trying not to fall apart when he hands me a checklist of questions to ask your doctor when you have testicular cancer.
Holy fucking shit CANCER. That is a scary ass word. While we have been blessed that it hasn't happened to immediate blood relation family on any side of mine, and only L's dad on his, and my FIL is a tough bastard and keeps beating his. We haven't really had to think about it, thank God. Yet, here it was slapping us in the face. When we said our vows, I assumed, I believe like most couples, that we were in this for the long haul. I'm not going to lie, after a particular day when I had been driven crazy, I might have thought the fleeting thought of WTF was I thinking when I married you. I think all couples have and if they haven't, then they aren't being honest!!, but I never thought he wouldn't be here so when this first hit us, it was a shell shock. I had the initial selfish reaction of I can't be a widow, what will I do, I can't even tie a tie and how am I supposed to talk about masturbation!!?? and all the other boy stuff then it hit me of what Lenny had to lose. I can't imagine for one second thinking that I'm not going to be there for prom night, graduation, college campus visits, to veto girls that are brought home. Lenny is not real big on talking emotions, so I was unsure on how he was feeling, so I just asked. I wonder if his reaction was sometimes more for me than him. His love language is making sure I'm prepared in any emergency and if this is not a mother fucking emergency, I don't know what is.
He is okay. We are okay. We are staying very positive. This cancer really is the most survivable cancer there is, so this is a good thing. Even if it does spread all over, the survival rate is still 75%. This is a good thing. Plus, there is so much we don't know. We won't know for at least a couple of weeks and as it is when I think about this, I want to vomit and I can't feel like I want to vomit every day for a couple of weeks, unless I guess I go out and buy those pregnancy pops!!
We will get the biopsy and we will get a plan of action and we will go from there. The last couple of years have been very stressful, especially with the termite house, but we are treating this like any other thing we have to overcome and we will overcome it because that's just what we do.
I have guilt over the phone calls. I made a few of them, to friends that I know are close by and I might need help picking up the kids or watching the kids. My mom, so far, and I'm sure in the future, is my rock and has been there, but her commute to my house is an hour plus, so I don't feel right asking her to be here every day. So, I want to thank in advance, SM and TG and SB for volunteering to help out with the boys. Let me tell you why I didn't make the calls. Many of you are my very good friends and family that I know would be there for me that mean the world to me, that I love very much. Let me explain. I've had to do this in my head. It's my family on one side, and Cancer on the other. I've built up this brick wall between us to keep my sanity, my emotions in check, and to be strong for my boys. Each time I make the call, cancer takes a sledgehammer to the wall. I can hear it in the voices, no fault of anyone, people react exactly as I would if someone called me up and said this, it's shocking. Each time I have to explain things, it hits the wall again, each time I have to stay strong and positive to keep my friends from worrying, it hits the wall again. Each time I have to fight not to lose it, it hits the wall again. Then, I am off the call and am spending the mental energy to build it back up. I couldn't keep doing it. I know my friends would not care if I lost it, I know they would hold me if I cried. But, I can't lose it. I won't . I have a husband that I need to be strong for and children I need to be strong for. More importantly, myself. I will stay positive. At this point, there is NO reason not to. So, that is why I didn't call everyone. I hope you can understand and don't get your feelings hurt.
I'm scared shitless. Lenny said he is not really scared, more like anxious and apprehensive. He has to lose a nut. He's had it there forever. I feel bad that he has to go through that, it must be truly a weird thing. If I talk to you, I might not want to talk about this. I might want to have normal conversations about anything but this. Don't feel like you have to say anything at all. This is a weird thing being on this side of things. The "my husband has cancer" side. I have not had a close friend have this, so I haven't had to figure out how to react, but please don't think you need to do anything. Just answer my call if I call and talk to me about anything and everything other than this.
We are hoping and praying for Stage 1. That I can say my husband no longer has a remarkable left nut, just an unremarkable right nut, and that it stays unremarkable forever. That my husband had cancer, but is in remission. That cancer was just one more thing the James Clan took on and came out victorious.
We had just received the news that L had testicular cancer. We also received the news that he got the "good" cancer, the one that is 98% survivable, though our primary is nice enough to say, but of course you don't want any cancer because cancer sucks. This all happened so fast, Lenny going to the doctor since something seemed a bit off, getting a sonogram. Getting the phone call that I am positive contained much more information than what I got of "It's not good" and he wants to see us tomorrow. Another aspect of my husband's protective nature of not giving me the news he just got since he knew waiting is not my thing. So, we spent the next evening with him doing his endless research and reporting back to me and me trying to gauge how he was feeling and trying not to fall apart when he hands me a checklist of questions to ask your doctor when you have testicular cancer.
Holy fucking shit CANCER. That is a scary ass word. While we have been blessed that it hasn't happened to immediate blood relation family on any side of mine, and only L's dad on his, and my FIL is a tough bastard and keeps beating his. We haven't really had to think about it, thank God. Yet, here it was slapping us in the face. When we said our vows, I assumed, I believe like most couples, that we were in this for the long haul. I'm not going to lie, after a particular day when I had been driven crazy, I might have thought the fleeting thought of WTF was I thinking when I married you. I think all couples have and if they haven't, then they aren't being honest!!, but I never thought he wouldn't be here so when this first hit us, it was a shell shock. I had the initial selfish reaction of I can't be a widow, what will I do, I can't even tie a tie and how am I supposed to talk about masturbation!!?? and all the other boy stuff then it hit me of what Lenny had to lose. I can't imagine for one second thinking that I'm not going to be there for prom night, graduation, college campus visits, to veto girls that are brought home. Lenny is not real big on talking emotions, so I was unsure on how he was feeling, so I just asked. I wonder if his reaction was sometimes more for me than him. His love language is making sure I'm prepared in any emergency and if this is not a mother fucking emergency, I don't know what is.
He is okay. We are okay. We are staying very positive. This cancer really is the most survivable cancer there is, so this is a good thing. Even if it does spread all over, the survival rate is still 75%. This is a good thing. Plus, there is so much we don't know. We won't know for at least a couple of weeks and as it is when I think about this, I want to vomit and I can't feel like I want to vomit every day for a couple of weeks, unless I guess I go out and buy those pregnancy pops!!
We will get the biopsy and we will get a plan of action and we will go from there. The last couple of years have been very stressful, especially with the termite house, but we are treating this like any other thing we have to overcome and we will overcome it because that's just what we do.
I have guilt over the phone calls. I made a few of them, to friends that I know are close by and I might need help picking up the kids or watching the kids. My mom, so far, and I'm sure in the future, is my rock and has been there, but her commute to my house is an hour plus, so I don't feel right asking her to be here every day. So, I want to thank in advance, SM and TG and SB for volunteering to help out with the boys. Let me tell you why I didn't make the calls. Many of you are my very good friends and family that I know would be there for me that mean the world to me, that I love very much. Let me explain. I've had to do this in my head. It's my family on one side, and Cancer on the other. I've built up this brick wall between us to keep my sanity, my emotions in check, and to be strong for my boys. Each time I make the call, cancer takes a sledgehammer to the wall. I can hear it in the voices, no fault of anyone, people react exactly as I would if someone called me up and said this, it's shocking. Each time I have to explain things, it hits the wall again, each time I have to stay strong and positive to keep my friends from worrying, it hits the wall again. Each time I have to fight not to lose it, it hits the wall again. Then, I am off the call and am spending the mental energy to build it back up. I couldn't keep doing it. I know my friends would not care if I lost it, I know they would hold me if I cried. But, I can't lose it. I won't . I have a husband that I need to be strong for and children I need to be strong for. More importantly, myself. I will stay positive. At this point, there is NO reason not to. So, that is why I didn't call everyone. I hope you can understand and don't get your feelings hurt.
I'm scared shitless. Lenny said he is not really scared, more like anxious and apprehensive. He has to lose a nut. He's had it there forever. I feel bad that he has to go through that, it must be truly a weird thing. If I talk to you, I might not want to talk about this. I might want to have normal conversations about anything but this. Don't feel like you have to say anything at all. This is a weird thing being on this side of things. The "my husband has cancer" side. I have not had a close friend have this, so I haven't had to figure out how to react, but please don't think you need to do anything. Just answer my call if I call and talk to me about anything and everything other than this.
We are hoping and praying for Stage 1. That I can say my husband no longer has a remarkable left nut, just an unremarkable right nut, and that it stays unremarkable forever. That my husband had cancer, but is in remission. That cancer was just one more thing the James Clan took on and came out victorious.
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