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.