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!


But today was a new day. Today, he felt well enough to run several errands, plus work -- got his will updated and notorized, did another living will (he accidently gave away the original), put me on his bank account, and then teased me about running away with all his money.

We both know I could've run away with his money long ago in the divorce, but that's not me. It's absurd to even suggest I might do that now. I guess that's why it's funny.

We even ate NY pizza in a strip-mall pizza shop today. He ate almost the whole slice. He was beginning to complain about his stomach, but eating seemed to fix that. He remarked about how odd it is that he can't tell stomach pain from hunger.

Earlier, two hospice representatives stopped by: a nurse and a counselor. They explained their services, and we discussed end of life care versus the fight for life, or even just a little more longevity (chemo).

As it was a good day for The Ex, it may have appeared to them that we aren't quite ready for hospice care. He is still walking -- a little stiffly, but still walking -- talking clearly (slurriness from duragesic is gone), and WORKING, for heaven's sake!

So, understanding that he has time for one course of chemo cocktail before he goes on his cruise, and when he gets back it will be time for another, if he so chooses. And, if after one infusement or whatever they call it, he becomes ill, he can refuse further treatment if he wants to. He makes the choices. He controls the decision in his care. He is comforted by this power.

I guess we'll call Hospice another time. Later. When we're all out of rallies. But wouldn't it be wonderful if the chemo gets him two more years? How could he NOT try it?