My light in the tunnel

I cannot say enough about what Roslyn has done for me over the past several months. I haven’t talked enough in this blog about her tireless contributions. My wife has done more for me — taking care of me, loving me, putting up with my frustrations and my illness — than I seriously expected from anyone except for her. She is simply wonderful. She is my solace and wisdom when life is dark, and my sunshine when it’s bright. It’s been a rough couple of weeks, though there have been peaceful and kind parts. She has been with me through all of it.

The fever and the feeling of general awfulness started last Saturday afternoon. I arrived at the hospital emergency room very early on Sunday morning, calling my oncologist to let him know. Long ago, he had advised me to head straight to the ER if my temperature reached 100.4 degrees. My temp had reached that, as best I could tell with four thermometers. I had four because I didn’t believe any of them, and so I thought I would try to get consensus. Unfortunately, thermometers are not reasonable people, so I decided to go on in. After three hours of blood tests and boredom, it was pronounced by the friendly ER doctor that I must have some kind of virus and, now that my fever was much reduced, I should go home and wait it out. Roslyn and I did that. With me having had little sleep the night before and Roslyn having had none, we slept all morning. The fever returned on Sunday afternoon, so back to the ER we went. More tests, including a chest X-ray to check for any infection there. Nothing was found. Nothing, that is, except for several very small, ghostly spots on my lungs, the largest being about six millimeters. The doctor that wrote the radiology report warned that this might be a sign of spreading cancer.

I sent copies of the X-ray images and the accompanying report to the oncologist’s office. The next few hours of worry were almost overwhelming, awaiting a call back from the oncologist. Spreading cancer is a nightmare, as many of you are aware and some of you have experienced. Just when I thought my treatment had been a complete success, the specter of more trouble hit Roslyn and I like a hammer. For the first time since this whole thing started, I was scared.

When the oncologist finally got back to me Monday afternoon, he did not equivocate. “You don’t have lung cancer.” He said that if it was cancer, it would have appeared on the PET/CT scan. That six-millimeter spot had appeared on an X-ray taken last May, determined then to be a small granuloma, and was disregarded as a threat.

Receiving this news was a relief, of course, but I was still sick with nausea and aches, and battling the fever. I was allowed to start taking Tylenol since all my medical tests showed no infection lurking in my system. It took several more days before the fever ran its course. The fever, worry and stress had taken its toll on me. Depression had set in.

This week is, thank God, my last scheduled chemo/immunotherapy treatment. If things go as expected, recovery from this last treatment will be more difficult than before. I have faith I will get through it. I don’t expect it to be easy. I’ve been praying a lot and trying to keep my jitters and depression under control. It’s very hard to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes.

Thank you, my friends and family, for your prayers and support. You have each helped make this process easier for us. Roslyn and I cannot thank you enough. I have a lot of thanksgiving to do this season! We miss seeing our friends and enjoying the big, wide, wonderful world. We look forward to diving back into it when this process is done.

God bless you all.