Well originally I was going to write this every day, but life overtook me a bit.
Son's 18th went well but rather quietly. Blew money on a big LCD TV for him which I can't afford but what the ****.
Onc phoned on Saturday in a rather late response to the email I sent asking questions because we had been given no one to ask anything of.
The wonderful onc nurse at Frimley had already arranged for husband to be seen by an onc at St Lukes this Thursday morning so we now have a full week but at least the Frimley people can communicate.
Anyway, whilst Onc was trying to answer my questions and explain why no sutent or any thing for my husband I told him that he needed to be aware that husband had had a problem with movement of hand and foot etc and that GP had said it was muscular but would send him for a bone scan. I told him I knew enough biology and physiology to know it wasn't muscular. he agreed and asked husband to go up to Guy's first thing this morning. Husband argued and told me I was being melodramatic and everything but eventually went today (do you see a pattern forming here). Anyway after loads of tests they have concluded he has had a very minor stroke (scary enough in itself) and it is probably brain mets. He has gone to bed now as very tired after doing the train journey etc.
Medical appointments this week now total today at Guy's, Thursday am St Lukes to see other Onc, Thursday PM Guy's for CT and brain scan Friday Frimley for bone scan and King's to see surgeons.
All this plus an appointment a week to deal with daughters broken hand I feel like I should camp at a hospital, the tricky bit would be deciding which one!
Not sure how I actually feel at the moment. There are some very weird emotions, but on a postive note, if it is confirmed now that he has mets then he will get treatment. No mets means no treatment and giving this monstor 3 months at a time to go undetected and grow to lethal size.
I keep trying to think of something else to say when people ask how he is doing, crap? brilliant? or the complicated truth?
Even more weirdly no word yet from the stepsons, 40 minutes each with him whilst he was in hospital and obviously not going to die that week and then they don't contact him again. I keep waiting for a valuer to turn up at the house!
Hey ho enough whinging. I'm off to do dinner - a fiery curry for me and my daughter and a more gentle korma for husband. Then back to the computer to get on with earning a crust and finding some scraps of cash to pay the blood thirsty hounds at the door.
Evening all.
