Things are chugging along. Chris had his visit with the radiologist this morning and he had his first radiation treatments right after lunch. They nuked his left shoulder, where they found "stuff", and then they nuked his lumbar region. The shoulder was a one shot deal, but he has 4 more scheduled for his lower back. Tomorrow and Friday and then Monday and Tuesday. Tuesday afternoon he goes to the chemo guy.
I went with him. It was very weird going down to the radiation labs. I spent so much time there when I was getting treated and for a few minutes I felt something odd, like being afraid or reluctant or something, as if it was all going to turn out to be a trick and it was ME that they were going to treat. The feeling passed, but it was awful while it lasted.
While Chris doesn't like it, I'm not going for the next four radiation treatments. I know he likes the company but I wanted to say to him, "What if I had died, bucko? You would have had to learn to to a lot of stuff on your own." What a horrible thought. What a horrible thing for me to even think of saying, but as I said, I had the weirdest mix of feelings. I guess I spent too much time at the cancer clinic before.
I don't mean to say he can't manage, of course he can. But men are different. Or I guess it could be just him. But I know the oncologist said, "We like the wives to come with the husbands when the men are being treated but we'd almost rather the husbands didn't come with the wives when the women are being treated." Something to that, I think.
I am really, really, really trying not to think too far ahead here. The words "palliative care" have not been spoken, the word "treatment" is used all the time. I confess I was really frightened. Like REALLY frightened.
I have always been so accustomed to my husband just going along, strong as a horse, never sparing himself, never being sick until a few years ago. He was over 60 years old before he ever had a prescription drug, if you can imagine. He broke bones playing rugby and riding bikes, he has been stepped on by cows and dropped 50 pound blocks on his feet, and crushed his hand, had his nose smooshed, etc., but it never slowed him down. He's really impatient with all this.
But you know some people get right into being sick, it's the biggest thing that ever happened to them? For the first time, they are the centre of attention and a whole bunch of doctors and nurses are focused on them, etc.? You see these people at the cancer clinic and other hospitals all the time. They say, "my cancer" or "my heart trouble" as if . . . . I don't know. As if it was some kind of special thing that only special people get? Hard to explain. I should NOT be judging them, I know, but all I ever wanted was to get the whole thing over with and get on with my life, and my husband is the same.
So, that's the news for today.
