Trying to buy some time

Mr. Wonderful has been enduring a regimen of "extreme chemo" for 7 weeks now.  We trek into the city every Monday for blood work, visit with the oncologist and then a chemo infusion.  Praise God for my children, as we never make this trip unescorted by either Allison or Bobby.

The reason he started this chemo was to make himself eligible for a clinical trial.  After 6 weeks, they did a scan to see how things were progressing.  The good news:  some of the tumors have decreased slightly.  The bad news:  he is no longer eligible for the clinical trial drug as there has been no forward progression of the disease since he has been on chemo.   

This has been a bittersweet time for all of us.  I spoke with the oncologist at length.  He said, "this will work for a little while, until it doesn't work anymore.  Then he will be eligible to try the new "non-chemo" drug".  Whereas I wanted to rejoice that something was working, the doctor brought me back to the sad reality that this is just a Band-Aid on a gushing artery.

I am angry that the medical field has put us in a position where Mike's quality of life was not considered at all.  I am totally supportive of the work they are trying to do to combat this ugly disease, but at what cost to MY HUSBAND???  He never would have agreed to the chemo if he was not promised the opportunity to try the new wonder drug. 

Our life is different now.  We were always intertwined, and now we are wrestling with the effects of the poison they are pumping through his veins along with the deadly beast that is trying to claim his life.  We start and end each day with me injecting him (twice a day) in his stomach, with a blood thinner to ward off the possibility of a fatal blood clot.  We count his calories each day to combat his inevitable weight loss and ensuing fatigue.  This is the toughest war we were ever in, and one we both know we will lose.

It's funny how things that were important enough to discuss a year ago never even come up anymore.  There are no more conversations about vacations.  There is no discussion about what car to get when my lease runs out.  We never talk about whether or not we should replace the deck in the back of the house now.  Some days, the biggest decision we make is whether or not to have ice cream for dinner.

I guess this rant is just my private 'pity-party' right now.  Mike is not ready to give up the fight.  I am not ready to watch him succumb to this beast.