This Friday is when my husband starts Round 2 of his two-drug chemotherapy. It has been just great whilst he has had two weeks off, no bottle hanging around his waist to disturb his sleep and both his strength and sleeping patterns have improved.
I am not sure if the second round is worse or better than the first. I feel he has been quite lucky because although he has lost his hair and suffered from some nausea and tiredness, he seems to have fared better than many people I know when they have gone through chemo.
Deep down I am not sure the drugs are working although I would never say that to my husband - we have been warned that after this second treatment, my husband will have to have another scan and should the sarcomas have increased in size or number, then he will have to go into hospital for 3 days every 3 weeks to try another combination. His stomach is very distended and he is uncomfortable at times, although he has never really had any pain of any significance, I know he is not at ease.
He is still working - to the amazement of his colleagues, but that is the type of man he is. Self employed all his working life, he does not do sick days, unless he really needs to, and fortunately and unusually for him, he has taken a couple of days off when he felt too weary to go to work, but that is all and I know it is important for him to be out there with his mates and to feel normal.
We lost a friend and colleague last week from cancer, and although she had a feminine cancer, my husband was very brought down for quite a few days - all around wherever we go these days, there is something about cancer. Whether it is in adverts on the underground or on the TV, or news about someone else dying in the newspapers, he feels surrounded by it and gets very frustrated by it all. I try to emphasise that we are not seeing the hundreds and hundreds of success cases, and hopefully he does appreciate that.
He has been offered work for next May, and has decided to turn it down, partially because we do not know what stage his treatment will be at then, but in his words - he might not be alive then. That tears me apart and only when I am on my own can I give way to my feelings of anger, despair and sheer impotence in the face of cancer. The 'why him' phrase keeps coming in and out of my mind - I know the answer, 'why not him' but it does not help and it feels so unfair. I try and try to turn him around to a more positive outlook and sometimes I think it is working, but I am never sure.
I have altered our eating times to ensure that he is getting lots of protein meals with sufficient time between to make sure he is eating properly which he was not beforehand. I try to shield him from any undue stress and take phone calls and field emails as best as I can.
I went through this many years ago with my lovely mother, who although deemed terminal is now still alive at 90, and living quite happily in a nursing home near us. I did not tell her about my husband initially as I did not want to worry her, but she now knows, and has been a tower of strength to me, although suffering from some dementia she has moments of complete lucidity. She said, well there is nothing we can do about his cancer, he will just have to get on with the chemo and get better as I did. Just yesterday she said: the goodbye you say to this disease, is the best goodbye you will ever say in your life:
If only I could convince my husband that all is not lost.... early days I guess! I have gone on and on in this blog but it is such a blessing to be able to unload.
