Nana’s Notes:

Improvement everyday. 

Went to radiation oncologist for consultation on radiation treatment.  Doctor explained it; wanted us to make appointment for next week for mapping & molding cap for the treatment.  

Papa felt overwhelmed & didn’t want to make another appointment.  He doesn’t want to do treatment.  Just wants God to take him home.  He is sure he will not get better & doesn’t want to live this way.

Kari met us at the appointment.  The rehab took Papa & me there.

We talked a lot about whether or not to do treatment.  Doctor said without it, the tumor could come back in about a year.  Quality of life will decline.  With treatment, tumor could come back in 2-5 years, but some take longer than that & have good quality of life.  Side effects should be minimal.

Radiation oncologist suggested we make an appointment with the chemo oncologist.

Mark, Kari & I, and friends want Papa to do treatment, but understand his hesitation.  He says “Why prolong life without quality?”

Got a bouquet of flowers [at the rehab] from Papa’s old job – [arrangement was] in a paint can.  “How appropriate!,” Kari said.

 

My Reflections:

Nana slept over and the boys hang out w/ her in our guest room while she gets ready to go visit Papa:

Just being with Nana and being their usual silly selves.

 

Today’s a big day.  We’re meeting with a radiation oncologist to discuss treatment options for Papa.  Papa & Nana will arrive at the appointment from rehab in a transport van, while I plan to drive over separately from home.

These days getting coverage for the boys is getting more challenging.  Extended family is busy or traveling and I hate to ask friends who have multiple children of their own to care for.

How about adding another three kids?  No sweat, right?  

I’m sure they’d help if I asked, but I don’t want to put them in a tight spot if they can’t, or make them feel guilty.  Perhaps it’s a pride thing; it probably is.  Truth be told, I don’t want to be pitied.  It’s no fun feeling “needy.”  I’d much rather be the one helping than the one asking for help.  Right or wrong, I hate making the calls to ask for help.

A couple family friends, grandmothers themselves, have offered to help though, and it’s one of them I’ve called upon to watch the boys today while I’m at Papa’s appointment.  So appreciate her willingness to help, so relieved she’s available.  She makes this awkward position of neediness just a little bit easier.

I’m on a tight schedule with fitting it all in today, but hopeful it will all work out:  drop kids off, arrive to Papa’s appointment, meet with doctor, pick boys up, head to J Jr.’s school for a meet & greet with teachers…..  Not a lot of margin for error, but that’s how we’re rollin’ these days.

After dropping the boys off, I meet up with Nana & Papa at the doctor’s office.  And then we wait, and wait, and check our watches and wait some more.  I don’t have a lot of time to play with and I’m feeling the crunch.

Finally the radiation doc appears.

He’s optimistic, encouragingly so, as he tells us about what treatment procedures he recommends for Papa, etc.; going even so far as to say that he’s seen people survive with Papa’s type of cancer five years and beyond after treatment.  We can’t help but question him on this:

“But what about someone of Papa’s age with his underlying health conditions?,” we ask.

The doctor admits that the patients he’s speaking of are indeed younger and in better health.

“And what should we expect if Papa doesn’t choose to seek treatment?,” I want to know.

The doctor says we can’t be sure, “Perhaps 6 months to a year?”

“And with treatment?” I ask.

The doctor says we can perhaps expect 2 years, but maybe more.  Again, we can’t be sure; all cases are different.

And he goes on to tell us more, but I don’t have a lot of time at this point.  It’s time for me to go. Past time.  And I’m glad I’ve been able to meet the doctor, get his input, and ask my questions, but now I must excuse myself,  not being sure of whether Papa will decide to pursue treatment or not, not being sure myself what to make of what we’ve learned today.

There’s not much time.

I mean, right now, right here, there’s not much time to grab the boys and make it to the meet & greet.  But missing that isn’t an option.  There’s a box of school supplies to pick up and a teacher to meet and a desk to find with my son’s name on it.  None of which is personally very important to me right now, but all of which is important to J Jr.

So happen, it must!

And with a flurry and scurry and loading and hurry, the boys are picked up and rushed to school. With 5 minutes to spare before the bell rings signaling the end of the meet & greet.  And that’s all it takes to fly from parking lot to classroom, three boys in tow.  A bit breathless, but there. Teacher met, desk found, supply box in hand.

Oh what a crazy life this is.

After we arrive home, an angel of a friend drops by dinner.  And a freezer meal for another night too.

Words of thanks do not suffice.

Later, when dinner (thoroughly enjoyed by all) and dishes are done, I head to the basement.  Not to cry or rest or zone out. But to fix something.  To caulk and paint, and put up the final trim pieces on my crafting nook. That crafting nook I dreamed up and Papa made into a reality.  That crafting nook he was helping me finish the day we first found out about this crazy cancer business.  When bead board was hung wrong and words began to mix, till speech was altogether broken.

Tonight I do the mundane work of filling cracks and covering gaps.  Because I can’t fix Papa’s cancer, but I must fix SOMETHING.  And somehow in the fixing of something, a bit of therapy is found.