Dying stinks

I hate this. The house is dirty. The patient stinks. He's not mean today but that could change at any minute.

I'm grateful for hospice, but I am frankly sick of all this sickness.

How's this going to happen?

Those of you up north won't appreciate this complaint much, and I'm sorry. But, it is 45 here, outside. Inside, it's 104.

There is still enough will inside Ex to give him the strength to get out of bed, WALK TO THE THERMOSTAT, and turn it up to 105.

Turnabout is their say

Today, for the first time, my personal boat was rocked by a post from someone who is now NED. I had to think for a while. What *is* it about this post that makes me feel so bad?

NED! NED! NED! She's was so happy, she was climbing the walls and wanted to be peeled off.

It's getting harder to stay strong

This is the place where I can say whatever I want. I can be negative here if I want. I need to be negative somewhere; somewhere I won't be attacked for being honest -- so I don't dash the stars of all those people who still have hope, the ones who are determined to be cured.

We started with no hope and it's gone downhill from there. I can hardly believe I've been caring for my Ex, mostly, for the past 10 months. I thought he was so sick when i first got here, i could hardly believe he'd been living on his own (and working) as long as he had.

Today is much better

Ex seems to be feeling better today. I sent him an email, all the way from my desk to his about 20 feet away. Said "I know you are mad at your situation and not at me. I hope you feel better soon."

And he replied, "Thanks, I needed to hear that."

He is nesting, or perhaps un-nesting. Cleaning up his desk and getting papers in order, working through the things he needs to work through while he can work through them.

He moves slowly. All the muscle tone is gone from his former-linebacker legs. But he's moving, and he's getting things done.

The sun is finally out today. Maybe Ex would like me to drop him off at the grocery. ;-)

Today sucked

Today's going down in this blog as one of the all-time worst. Ex's demeanor was meaner than ever, he's had a chip on his shoulder all day. He's got cancer, dammit, and he is mad!

He hasn't eaten, hasn't had much to drink. If he's awake, he's mad and if he's asleep, well... I guess he's not.

It didn't go well at chemo today. You can read about that over on inspire.com if you like. Another long one over there -- sorry about that.

New post over at inspire

Ex took a spill today, but he's "fine." I posted about it over on Inspire.com.

I dunno about this posting in two places. I guess it will be good in some circumstances, but I don't know if I have enough interesting things to write to keep that journal and this blog flowing.

Guess this one has its purpose, if only to let you know that I just posted another long one on www.Inspire.com.

So far, so good. All we need is a few more computers.

Ex is still feeling pretty good. I don't notice any side effects at all. We had the distraction of an upgrade to our phone and internet connection today, and that helped. We've been up to our elbows in computers all day.

Here we go with Topotecan!

Topotecan will be the course of chemo Ex starts today. 30-minute infusion, on Tuesdays until further notice.

Ex, as usual, is a little apprehensive, but he is feeling pretty well today, at least well enough to make it to the treatment center.

I'll try to post a little each day about how it goes.

Thanksgiving casserole; much like life

Our Thanksgiving holiday started on Wednesday with my company's holiday meal at a Japanese steakhouse in Melbourne, FL, about 45 miles north.

Ex accompanied me, and although he didn't hear much and he didn't know anyone, the food was good and cook was entertaining, despite the unappetizing spindle of a tooth he sported as he twirled knives, grilling tools and squirt-bottles of steamy sauces on the grill.

Quick update - :-)

By popular demand, here's a quick update.

All arrived safe. Thanksgiving was VERY loud (happy loud) for a group of 8, I thought, but my turkey turned out great. I made note of a few key learnings:

All home, all safe

All my family members are home and resting comfortably. :-) The meeting between The Ex and The Hub went very well. Ex is already enjoying his birthday. Hub is sleeping in after his 15 hour tour of I-95 yesterday. Today is a big day of turkey, lamb, fixin's, friends, family and fun.

God bless us, one and all -- and that includes YOU!

Happy Thanksgiving!

He's almost here! What will this meeting be like?!

Hubby is about 30 minutes away from Exville!

What will it be like when he meets The Ex? I'm ready to cry already and it hasn't even happened yet!

Hubby hit the road this a.m. at 4:30, arriving here at 7 p.m. He rode the front all the way from SE Virginia to south-central Florida. He's finally in Florida, and it's going to feel like Virginia here tomorrow. Oh well. We can live with that.

I'm off to clean something, or pace.

Big day; little time

Well, just as I feared, no one showed up to clean the Ex's house yesterday or last night while I was sleeping. I didn't get very far on the kitchen, but I do have my dressing bread all dried, and the mixin's all ready; creamed peas ready too. Today, Ex and I have a holiday luncheon with my company, and then come home to finish cleaning, brine the turkey, wash/peel/cook potatoes, and make the relish trays.

Cancer hog saw his shadow, at least 10 more weeks of chemo

Ex saw his oncologist today, and has decided to begin a new course of treatment, prescribed 1x per week. Something called Topotecan.

He seems to be getting along ok, now that radiation sickness has abated.

Son's computer emergency makes for a good day

Something bad happened to our son's computer -- it lost power while installing something, and then it wouldn't boot, wouldn't repair itself, couldn't restore, all restore points and the entire 'D' drive partition -- gone!

Getting better all the time!

Ex is about 50 percent better today! I might've slept a little too late. He was very ready for breakfast by 8:30!

His thinking is clear; he's busy on a project -- probably something to do with our son's recently slain laptop. Our son may be one of the very few to have two computer technicians and a boatload of parts and software at home. He only has to drive 120 miles to get here. Praying for safe travels. Weather looks good. He'll be fine. (Pray anyway, please). :-)

It's kind of liberating to be blogging. I can say suzyyyy_123 or kate_123 if I want to. :-)

Son's on the way home, and I've got to get this house ready for Thanksgiving. As my mother used to say, "We're expecting 8 or 20." It's Ex's birthday. His crazy friend's sisters are coming; one is an ex-girlfriend bringing her husband. And then my husband will be here. So many exes it perplexes the whole day, but I am truly looking forward to the insanity. I am not looking forward to saying the blessing. I am sure I can't get through it. Volunteers? Anyone?

Thank you for reading my blog. I hope you will come back soon.

Today is a new day, and a new blog

I am my Ex's caretaker. He has extensive Small Cell Lung Cancer with mets to spine, hip, brain, liver, lymph nodes and adrenal glands.

I've been keeping an online journal in another location since last March. I plan to copy those journal entries into this blog with their actual posting dates.

I will not be allowing comments to my older posts as I copy my journal postings to this blog.

I will allow followers of this blog to post on new posts that come subsequently, such as this one.

Ex Brain Radiation ends at 13: He's had enough

Oh, what a night. He (we) were up and down all night last night.

He was weak, unstable, barfy, hot, cold, drooly, and gurgling. It was downright scary. And frustrating. I forgot what sleep deprivation does to your demeanor.

Ex's Brain Radiation, Day 13 of 15

This has been the worst day of this current treatment. Ex said he had a headache all night, but I don't remember seeing him out of his bed on any of my umpteen trips to the bathroom last night.

He's been vacant all day. Lights are on, but nobody's home. I feel a little like that myself. I'm sure it shows in this post.

We made it to radiation, and we came home and that's been that. As I worked, he spent half the day sleeping, sitting up in his office chair, and another few hours sleeping in the lounger, and then now, he's sleeping, upright, on the couch.

Ex's Brain Radiation, Day 12 of 15

Here we go again. Day 12. Twelve down, three to go. Are you as weary of this as I am?

Wait, don't answer that. It's hypothetical. That means I ask, and you think about it, but nobody answers. This means you! :-)

So, for the twelfth weekday in a row, once again, we spent the morning sitting at our computers at our respective corners of the livingroom until Ex can't stand it any more.

Ex's Brain Radiation, Day 11 of 15

From the time he wakes in the morning until we leave for radiation at 12:30 p.m., he sits as his computer, catching up on emails, checks in on his user boards, checks the sale ads, reads the paper, and drinks coffee.

He doesn't seem bored, but it is sad not to see him dressed in his work attire and fiddling with that cussed hand-held device that used to rule his life.

I know there was a time when I felt the hand-held thing was a monster,

What is the EX paying you to stay with him?

Before it and a few other caustic posts were deleted from my journal, an angry poster wrote, "What is the Ex paying you to stay with him?" (I swear, she wrote this!)

I had to laugh. What is The Ex paying me to stay with him? She was kidding, right? Is there anyone else out there who thinks I'm caring for my Ex-Husband for money?

Ex's Brain Radiation, Day 10 of 15

It's seems all the Ex's activity over the weekend -- grilling steaks and laundry, going to Sam's and the grocery -- caught up to him today.

He seemed especially tired and quiet, and more off balance than usual. His thinking is cloudy.

Ex's Brain Radiation, Day 9 of 15

The Ex seemed a little more himself today. He made Eggs Benedict (of all things!), for breakfast and served me at my desk (a 2x4-ft folding table against a window in the livingroom). It was delicious.

Radiation went smoothly and Ex announced his plans for grocery shopping after his treatment.

The Ex lives for grocery shopping. He takes his coupons and scrutinizes every label, assessing each product's value as if the can would explode and kill half the population if the selection turns out not to be the absolute best value on the shelf.

Ex's Brain Radiation, Day 8 of 15

Seems like today was a rough one, emotionally.

Ex cried, he got angry, he was quiet and sullen. I have to work hard at not taking any of it personally. It's the steriods, I keep telling myself.

We made it through radiation, a little early, again today. Then we drove to the other side of the universe for a good deal on gas, and then we returned home.

I stay busy with work between outings, but I frequently catch Ex staring off into space. He's all walled in there.

Ex's Brain Radiation, Day 7 of 15

Not much to report today. We reported for radiation again today, early as usual, but they weren't able to see us until our actual appointment time. We've been spoiled, but the 15 minute wait wasn't too bad.

Afterward, we went to the pharmacy and got his new cane. He chose a plain black one with a cushy handle and he seemed immediately more stable when walking with it.

Ex's Brain Radiation, Day 6 of 15

We lucked out this morning and were able to bump up radiation to a time right after a visit to the oncology doc. She's cut back Decadron (steroid to prevent brain swelling) from four 6 mg doses a day to 3x/day. And next week, she says we'll go down to three 4mg doses.

I guess steriods are good for this purpose, but over time, docs say they contribute to irritability and weakness. We don't need any more of that!

Ex's Brain Radiation, Day 5 of 15

Today, Monday, is day 5 of 15 zaps of radiation. That seems wrong right there, but we started on a Tuesday.

So, when last we met, we had the visit of the Three Angels, and Dad, Son and Mom spent the weekend together. I wish I could say it was all copasetic, but it was more of a fluster cluck.

I can't go into all what happened this weekend because it distracts from our topic... Caring for Ex in Exville.

Ex's Brain Radiation, Day 4 of 15

Our formerly-fractured, now ducktaped-together family -- Dad, Son, and Mom -- all trooped to radiation today. At Ex's request, Son and I watched the make-ready procedure in the radiation room.

They place a stiff mesh mask with markers at the nose and ears over his face. Though his actual treatment is 46 seconds, prep time and zap time combined make his head look a little like a formerly mesh-wrapped ham when he first emerges from the treatment room.

Ex's Brain Radiation, Day 3 of 15

This third day of radiation seemed to start roughly, but later, just like in "The Christmas Story," we were visited by three angels.

Prior to treatment, we were frustrated by the beauracracy as we worked together to get something (anything!) resolved concerning his employment, insurance, and continued care.

We finally got through to HR (human resources) at his company, and from there to their insurer,

Ex's Brain Radiation, Day 2 of 15

Today was a better day than yesterday. We were ready for radiation an hour early due to an errant clock that has still not reset itself back to standard time.

We used the extra time to stop at the Post Office and the hearing aid place, and then arrived early at our radiation appointment, and The Ex was treated early, too. We were out of there before our 1 p.m. appointment even started!

We made a little progress on his efforts to go on short-term disability. He really wants to work,

Ex's Brain Radiation, Day 1 of 15

"Today is the first day of the rest of my life," he announced in a whisper when he emerged from his bedroom this morning. "Yep," I said. "Let's make it a good one!"

We met with the Radiation Oncologist before the first treatment to The Ex's newest tumor, located in his cerebellum. The Ex had requested the meeting, but did not tell me what he planned to ask.

When the doctor came in, The Ex asks in a breathy whisper, "I want to know why I am here.

Ex_turned_caregiver, bracing for radiation #2

When he stands unsuported, he rocks back and forth from his toes to his heels a little like a drunk, compensating for the sense of balance that seems to have left him; the heartbreaking result of a newly formed met from SCLC to his cerebellum.

He wants to work. Still wakes up every weekday morning and puts on his work clothes. Only now, I have to drive him to his calls

Ex_turned_caregiver, caregiving again

The Ex met me at the carport door when I arrived Monday afternoon, clinging to the doorjam for balance, tears streaming down his face. He emphatically whispered, "I'm so glad you're back," and he hugged me hard.

He's a little thinner, maybe. Certainly more pale. The tumor in his cerebellum is wrecking his balance and his voice is gone.

On Tuesday we met with the oncologist who said results of the last PET scan showed no change. I don't believe there was no change... there had to be SOME change,

Ex_turned_caregiver, going back to Ex

It was just starting to feel like home again. I knew where I was when I woke up and I eventually recovered my memories of where we keep stuff in our home. Our cupboards here are as sparse as the Ex's cupboards are overflowing; truly a lesson in lifestyles.

Labor Day weekend, my husband rented a car, drove all night and met me in Jax, FL, where we

It's been a couple months since I last made an entry in my journal here. I have a lot of excuses for that, but let's remember that this is not a story about me.

I just spent some time re-reading my journal posts. What a long, strange trip it's been!

The Ex is still doing remarkably well. He's had two torso scans since I last wrote, and neither gave much to hoop and hollar about -- mild to moderate improvement in the size of some tumors, lymph nodes and adrenal glands still growing and shrinking.

Where is Pavarotti when you need him?

It sings out loudly from the refrigerator door. The quote from Luciano Pavarotti reads in big bold print: “One of the very nicest things about life is the way we must regularly stop whatever it is we are doing and devote our attention to eating.”

Yeah, well, maybe, if you have not yet gone a round with chemo.

Ex's salvation foremost in family friend's mind

She's written before. She is the niece of The Ex's newly deceased, lifelong friend and cruise-buddy.

When The Ex was diagnosed, she was one of the first to send a sentimental card with inspiring words for peace and hope and salvation.

The Ex's scan results: Hurry Up and Mooz!

Some days zoom by. Some don't.

Family reunions, travel days, shopping and fishing? Zoom.

Root canals, dancing recitals, jobs you hate, and scan results? Mooz. The exact opposite of zoom.

Hello, God? It's me again...

Thank you for red skies at night, and for helping us do what's right. Thank you for the rain that makes the trees and flowers grow. Thank you for sunshine that refreshes our souls and makes us whole. Thank you for family, loved ones, and friends. Thank you for making things new again.

Thank you, God, for being there. Thank you, God, for being EVERYWHERE, and THANK YOU

The Post-Cruise (post-corpse, post-Canada, post-chemo, post-company) Blues

For the past few days, it's been easy for me to put my dark thoughts into a tiny far-away spot, out of constant view of my consciousness. The thoughts are still there, but not like they were -- cussed little cartoon cancer mind monsters that wouldn't leave me alone!

All dark, and thorny, and red, and blistery, and loud -- the imaginary cancer critters were firmly planted in my mind's full view, with triumphant cancer hands on small cell hips, standing defiantly

The Ex's cruise ends in death, but not The Ex's

Well, for the most part, in the immortal words of Jimmy Buffett, it was a perfectly lovely cruise. First to Freeport, Bahamas, then to Nassau, then back to Port Canaveral, FL on Thursday, May 7.

My son reports that The Ex was his usual miserly self, until he loosened up about the 2nd day

Stage Four, Schmage Four!

Like the Energizer Bunny, my terminally ill Extensive Stage Four SCLC patient continues to amaze me and most of the modern medical world with his drive to work, to live, and to go on as he always has.

He's got cancer consuming most of his left lung, his L1 vertibra, his left acetabulum (hip joint),

Hair today. Gone May 5th.

I wish I'd been a fly on the wall on the final day of his first round of chemo, when the Chemo Nurse warned The Ex that his hair would fall out soon -- and not just the hair on his head; all his hair, everywhere. Here a clump, there a clump, everywhere! His hair! There. And There. And There. And there.

Suddenly, he remembered The Cruise. Elegant, top-tiered suite with a balcony. Formal dinners.

Goodbye Radiation! Hello Chemo!

When last you read of the adventures of The Ex, he was wrangling with dates for Chemo. He wants Chemo, he thinks, only he is very apprehensive about how he will feel when it's time for his cruise to the Bahamas May 3-7.

So, to all our friends and supporters out there, we could sure use your prayers for smooth sailing through the Chemo treatments. The first one will be all day tomorrow.

"Well! Does he want chemo? Or does he want Hospice?"

... the receptionist snipped at me as we were trying to nail down a schedule for his chemo.

Next week isn't good, I have to be away for work and our son is filling-in on Dad duty. Tomorrow is too soon for an all day gig. We had no idea chemo took all day!

The Ex is scared, he says, of sitting all day with a needle in his arm. Nobody warned us

Hospice? Maybe later. Chemo! Here we come!

The Ex has rallied once again! When he first woke up this morning and he realized he felt pretty good, he said he jumped out of bed, showered and dressed, hurriedly beginning his workday before his energy left him for the day. (This is a milestone. He is accepting the condition and making efforts to adapt and overcome).

His inventory, which seemed like such drudgery yesterday went, smoothly and quickly. I hardly ever hear the "ow, Ow, OW, OWWWWs" that used to rip out my helpless heart. There is great pain in watching pain in others that we cannot do anything about. It's exhausting!

Radiation Therapy - Recovery Weekend

Patient to Doc: "Hey Doc! It hurts when I do this."
Doc to Patient: "Don't do that!"

Finally, we don't have to do that anymore.

Radiation Therapy - Day Fifteen

Radiation happened today without much hooplah, except inside my heart. We have a followup appointment there, and don't know why.

I'm so glad we got the cruise booked yesterday. He wouldn't have been up to it today. And rooms and rates might be gone tomorrow.

Radiation Treatment - Day Fourteen

When you go for radiation, you have to be scanned and positioned just so. Sometimes it takes some futzing. Just like life.

Today we met with our oncologist and discussed additional treatment after radiation. Our goals: 1st) cruise May 3-7, 2nd) son's 21st birthday, mid June; 3rd) Jan 2009 when he can increase life insurance to millions.

The best part of today was booking that cruise for The Ex, our son, and a beloved family friend. And we didn't book just a gloomy room with no view. Noooooo!

Radiation Treatment - Day Thirteen

He began the day with enough energy to sing "... I'm radeeeeeoooooooACTIVE!" He felt well enough to do a service call first. He still didn't feel like eating, but he sure LOOKS good. Trim. A little pale, maybe, or sometimes he looks flushed.

We went to treatment on schedule, without event, except The Ex was unusually grumpy and tired, despite his little burst of humor early in the morning.

This afternoon, the exhausted Ex returned to work to perform another call. Ever the dedicated employee. It makes me proud when he wears his 20 years of service shirts (it's really been 22, but they don't make 22 year service shirts).

When we first met, he was a certified Honda motorcycle technician, but when that got hard for one of his age (30-something), I encouraged him to answer an ad from an office machines place.

Fixit people are fixit people. I knew he could learn to fix something besides motorcyles, even when he didn't. Guess my idea worked out ok, because he's still doing that work today, SCLC or not. He is a top-performing technician. One of the very best.

While he was away, I decided today was the day to say goodbye to our dear cat, who has been "wasting" for a couple weeks now. She wouldn't eat, barely drank. I just couldn't watch it any longer, so I called a friend to take me and beloved kitty to the vet to be put down.

We'd taken her to the vet last weekend and had orders to force feed her from a 6 ml syringe 10x per day. Antibiotics 2x per day, just in case she had a liver infection instead of liver cancer. She didn't care much for that either.

We just couldn't do it -- forcing food down her throat. We tried for a couple days, but she just wasn't having it, and we felt it might be hurting her more than just leaving her alone. But, today I was selfish. I just couldn't handle it any more. Poor little kitty, laying almost lifeless, staring off into nothingness. Waiting to die. Just what we need right now.

Today was the day to say goodbye to kitty.

Some dear friends helped us, even dug the grave and said the prayer, and brought a cool wrought iron cross to mark the grave. The Ex participated as much as he could, but we were both weepy today, and that was hard with friends visiting... even though they are caring, loving, DEAR friends.

So, while there is much going on in my mind to write about tonight, I feel I must keep it short, as the family -- especially the dog -- is mourning. I need to be in the livingroom with The Ex and the dog.

When I left for the vet this afternoon, The Ex whispered to our poor, sick kitty of 10 years, "Goodbye, little kitty. I'll see you again real soon."

Too sad.

More tomorrow. Hopefully, a better day.

Radiation Treatment - Day Twelve

Yesterday's discomfort lasted well into the morning hours of today. I finally fell asleep around 3:30 a.m. on what used to be my side of the bed -- fully clothed, on top of the covers.

What I found when I awoke was nothing short of miraculous. The Ex was gone -- UP, SHOWERED, DRESSED and WORKING!

Radiation Treatment - Day Eleven

Effects from the radiation hit today, and they hit hard. I can't think of anything funny about it. Well, maybe the "Ah-Ah Bowl." More on that later.

The Ex slept late, felt sick when he awoke, and sadly, did not have the energy to bother with his work shirt and pants and shoes, or sit at his desk, or play with his hand-held device as he has every day since his diagnosis Feb. 26, 2009.

He didn't want to go to radiation, and I tried to encourage him to go. Seems like, if the doc said he should have 15 treatments, 1 a day for 3 workweeks, we should do that. But I wasn't sure WHY he should do that, and this afternoon I think he was a little mad at me for making him go.

Radiation Treatment - Day Ten

Up at the usual dawn, The Ex miraculously reported no pain when he finally sat down at his desk, fully dressed for work, promptly at 8 a.m.

I like to be at my desk promptly at 8 a.m., too... earlier if possible, but at my home in VA, I rarely take the time and trouble to dress.

So, Day Ten is also a big deal for me. That is 10 scheduled, calendar days that I have wakened, showered, dressed and made any appointment. It's good to know I can still do it, though it wouldn't be my personal fav for a Perfect World.

Radiation Treatment - Day Nine

Another nice day in Exville! Great news on The Ex's brain scan -- NOTHING THERE! heh. Nothing abnormal anyway. I was thrilled. The Ex was nonplussed.

He had a pretty good day and actually managed to put in a full working day, though much of it was busywork from home, and I had to remind him about what he'd done today when he sat down to input his hours in the handheld monster. Wait, that didn't sound right. I mean that cursed little handheld computer that schedules his work and keeps track of his hours.

Radiation Treatment - Day Eight

After a perfectly miserable evening of Day Seven, Day Eight greeted us with blue skies and minimal pain, after The Ex reluctantly switched back to the Duragesic patches last night. They make him slurry and stupid, and we're going to talk to the Rad-Onco about that tomorrow.

We took The Ex's vehicle to the fixit place. It was his first ride in my only car, a 23-ft RV. The RV's been stationary for a couple weeks. It needed a little run down the road.

After that, we returned to the house and I was able to work some before our 11:15 radiation.

Radiation Treatment - Day Seven

All day long, I've been remembering Dr. Seuss' Hop on Pop. Wish I still had it, but it was probably donated long ago. We all loved that book, and many years ago our son and I both loved Hopping on our Pop in play.

But today, the hopping was from place to place. So, with apologies to Seuss, today's hopping has stopped and we are glad, because boy oh boy, what a day Dad had.

Radiation Treatment - Day Six

Day 6 was yesterday. After a weekend full of nearly debilitating pain, The Ex was better yesterday... more mobile, more alert, just better all around. That is, until he decided to butcher a beef tenderloin down into steaks and roast and scraps.

It was too much for him -- standing to cut that meat, and I thought it was gross too, to fill the kitchen and counters with all that red meat and blood. Yuck. Maybe now that I'm here, he won't do that again.

He's decided to stop using the Duragesic patches and stick to Oxycontin (which we can still get) for long term pain relief. (He's using delaudid for breakthru pain, since we cannot get Oxycodone anymore).

The patches made him slurry and forgetful. And not just a little forgetful, either.

Sunday evening at dinner, The Ex asked where our son was. When I replied that our son was away at college, he had apparently forgotten that, and from time to time, he forgets that we are divorced. He forgets what day it is, where the next appointment is, when he last took meds, but I try to keep him on track with post-it notes on his desk and a log of which meds he took and when.

He's going to try to work some today. Work, Work, Work. If I am ever diagnosed with terminal cancer, I think I will quit working that very day and spend the rest of my time enjoying the life I have left.

I'm hoping my Ex will make that decision on his own, before his company has to let him go. They've been so nice so far, letting him work as he can, but in this economy, I can't imagine any company will be inspired to keep a guy who cannot perform his job, despite the cause.

Our son was with us again last Saturday and witnessed The Ex's worse day to date. I felt sure it was time to get out a rolling walker or a wheel chair and it worried our son terribly to see his father in such pain. But The Ex will not consider using a walker or a wheelchair because THOSE are for disabled people. He doesn't see himself as disabled. He sees himself as a guy with a back condition that hurts when he walks.

I have changed our diet to include more veggies than meat, since The Ex has complained of constipation. I try to include all kinds of veggies, nuts, seeds and other tasty little nutrients. Yesterday I made terragon chicken salad for lunch, and stirfry veggies and brown rice for dinner.

Today is a big day. We have radiation at 2:30 and a brain scan at 3:30. Results of the brain scan will determine if The Ex will consider chemo therapy or not. Our Onco doc, at first, said not to bother with chemo, I'm pretty sure because she feels he is just filled with mets.

But The Ex and I decided, if his brain scan is clear of mets, he will try chemo... he'd really like to make it to our son's 21st birthday in late June. And just in case, The Ex and our son may take a cruise together at the end of April, while I stay and take care of home and pets.

Members of my family seem to think it would be in terrible taste (and not nice to my current husband) for me to take a cruise with my Ex and my son.

I guess they are right about that, though I had thought I would go if The Ex really wanted me to. But, having given it some thought, I think my family is right, and I don't think I'd enjoy cruising anyway. To me it's just an unknown party that I can't leave if I want... so I'm happy to be here and hold the fort. But The Ex and our son should definitely go somewhere together before it's too late.

Theirs was always a stormy relationship, with Father being too demanding, and son not always working to meet his potential. Nobody cares about any of that anymore.

Life is too short.

Radiation Treatment - Day Five

First thing today, we went to view the "open MRI" -- a different "open MRI" than the one before. Let me tell you all, none of them are "open." And if you don't like being engulfed by a magnetic tube 5 inches from your face, you probably won't enjoy the "silence of the lambs" headgear for brain scans much either.

Granted the head thing has mirrors so you can look up and still see out of the tube, but the "silence of the lambs" reference came from my patient, not from my own sick little brain. Though I wish I had thought of it first, because he is right -- the head thing is creepy.

Every day we go to radiation therapy, the Ex has a new name for it. Radar Love. Dayglo charging. Zap therapy. His sense of humor is always good early in the day.

After an uneventful therapy, we went to look at cancer cure books in the bookstore. I was looking for a book on how best to support a terminal cancer patient. He looked at books on cures. Juicing. Detoxifying. Bean sprouts. His pain was getting to him, so we left without buying any books.

When we got home, I began my daily routine of calling pharmacies, looking for deliveries of oxycodone. No luck. Called the doc again because the pain situation was becoming severe, the Ex was then without relief from "breakthrough pain."

He started the slurry patches... uh, I mean, Duragesic 100 mcg last night. I called the doc's answering service again and asked for a return call, and this time, she actually called back.

With no oxycodone anywhere, we're switching to delaudid. She recommended that he up his patch dosage to wearing two at once.

I hear him in the other room, trying to get around... Oww! Oww! Oww! he says, to no one in particular. Every move he makes hurts.

I'd have to say he hurts now more than he did before the radiation treatments began, but that could be due to all this changing of meds. I've read that withdrawal from oxycodone is actually painful. If he's experiencing that, too... my goodness. I cannot even imagine his pain. Or how he wakes up every day and gets through his job, knowing -- or at least feeling at this time -- his remaining days will ALL be painful, and few.

He's wearing a back brace tonight. It looks like a torture device to me, but he said it gives him support and helps his back pain. I see he is suffering flashes. I know these symptoms all too well. At least we can have that one discomfort in common. One of us is always hot or cold.

I'm glad we don't have to go to radiation tomorrow, or the pharmacy, though I'd happily go to the pharmacy if they got some oxycodone in for the Ex. Radiation isn't too bad, as doctor's visits go, but it is odd for me to be going anywhere at the same time every day, and I am grateful for the break in routine.

I'm still glad I'm here, though I miss my other family. I don't know how he got by this long on his own. He didn't eat dinner tonight (then again, I didn't make any! ;-/ , but we did have a nice lunch in a restaurant this afternoon -- he had chicken caesar salad. Tonight, I made some brownies. Maybe that will help his appetite.

Our son might come home from school this weekend. He likes brownies, too. And I know his dad will be glad to see him.

So, good riddance Day Five. We shall resume our battle against cancer pain on Monday. Meanwhile, we'll just cope.

Radiation Treatment - Day Four

Today was the quickest trip ever. No one forgot our names, we didn't have to wait, I was able to get back to work with only about an hour break.

The Ex had a rough day, though, I think. We are finally out of oxycodone -- there is none in our community anywhere. He started the Duragesic patch last night, actually insisted on two, but I was able to peel one off of him after he fell asleep.

Radiation Treatment - Day Three

Today was one of those days where nothing goes right.

Sorry. I shouldn't be so negative. Let's say ALMOST nothing went right.

I messed up an appointment date and we ended up at the oncologists office a day ahead of our appointment. They saw us anyway, and would it have been too much for the receptionist to have accepted blame for my error? :-) She was very smiley when she insisted it was my error. Don't you love that in customer service?

Radiation Treatment - Day Two

Today didn't go as well as yesterday. The Ex is either distant in thought, or increasingly drug-fogged, or perhaps both.

We went to the radiation appointment and returned home for a homemade bean soup lunch. The Ex had two pretty good sized bowls and several pieces of fresh sourdough bread and butter.

He went back out to work after lunch, but returned an hour or so later, exhausted. At least I hope he was just exhausted and that I haven't poisoned him with my cooking!

Radiation Treatment, Day One

Today's radiation treatment went well. I didn't hear too much groaning from pain when he was placed on the table, or when he got up.

He honestly didn't need me there, but he still said he was glad I came. It's certainly no burden to go.

The radiation folks gave back the CDs of his CAT and PET scans today.

Our Journey Begins

Three weeks ago, after an MRI to diagnose back pain, docs found a tumor on my 54-year-old ex-husband's spine.

Results of needle biopsy Feb. 23rd revealed a met mass, and a CAT and PET scan were ordered.

On Wed., March 11, 2009 we were told that this is extensive Stage 4 cancer with SCLC. Some say you can't have stages with SCLC, but in our oncologist's explanation, the stages signified the sizes of the masses, with less than 2 cm being Stage 1.