Two years ago today I finished 25 rounds of radiation. Most of my family came (along with Patty, who is pretty much family anyway) to help me celebrate with good drinks, food and company.
It was the end of almost a year of treatments. I walked out of Coborn Cancer Center full of radiation burns and I was thrilled to be done. Bell ringing day is a BFD.
My heart was full of so much optimism. Sure, I didn’t have breasts and my hair resembled G.I. Jane’s, but I’d conquered the mountain. I survived stage III BREAST CANCER.
Fast-forward two years. I’ve had many surgeries, cancer scares, scans, tests, new diagnosis and so many appointments, but never. Did I ever. Think this is what my life would ever look like. I knew that when we talked about cancer again in our lives, it would be a recurrence of my own, somewhere else. That’s usually what happens.
We are struggling to accept Brad’s stage IV diagnosis. Even though it’s stage IV, it’s also a very, very aggressive cancer. That’s an incredibly tough pill to swallow. We find ourselves writing Brad’s medical directive (I’ve been nagging about it for YEARS) and talking about all the things that come with end of life. At least we know where we will be bury our cremains…
This week, we thought Brad would start to feel a lot better. He’s had two rounds of chemo, a prostate procedure and weeks of zero energy. His numbers weren’t great when we were last at the doctor, so he was unable to receive his full dose of chemo. He wants to feel better so bad, and we want it more than anything in the world.
This is such an emotional roller-coaster. The amount of guilt I feel when I forget about cancer for a minute makes me so sad. I can’t imagine how Brad feels. Maybe I can a little, I guess.
Busy week ahead with some road time for me, hockey, and of course, more hockey.