Saturday, November 14, 2009

something, something, cancer.

In September I was taken off of the chemo I was on. It had done "all it could do" and my numbers were pretty low. The spots on my liver had gone from twelve to one or two, depending on which you believed, the MRI or the CT scan. We knew the cancer would come back but expected a remission of six to eight months.

It's two months later and the cancer is back in force. There are eleven spots on my liver. The oncologist has never seen my type of cancer come back so quickly. I start chemo again on the 23rd of this month. It'll be a different chemo regimen. The cancer cells that have regrouped are the ones that survived the first so it wouldn't be as effective again. I'll be getting one by IV every two weeks, another by IV every three weeks and taking one orally (depending on the cost) every day in three week cycles.

It's funny, the things you notice. My oncologist has always used words like "probably" or "most likely" in front of the time I have left. Yesterday it was much more definite. I have six months without the chemo or a year with.

I just can't imagine leaving this beautiful woman behind. She's so amazing and such and incredible gift from God. She cried most of the evening. I cried after she went to bed. Finally joined her around three this morning and the tears started again as I laid down beside her.

So I've got a year. More of less. A year left to spend what should have been a life-time with my wife. I've got so much to pack in. I know it's impossible but I want to live as much of that life-time as I can with her. I want to hold her as much as I can. Hear her sing. Hear her laugh. Watch her get frustrated when the puppy gets muddy paws on her pants right before work. I want those moments. They're mine and I want them.

I have joy today. Joy in my heart. It's just surrounded by so much mourning. One shouldn't be able to mourn one's own death. There's just so much I wish I could do in a year. Places I've wanted to visit. People I've wanted to see. But there's not enough time, or money.

God is good. He has a plan. I can't see it. "Now we see through a glass darkly." But I know it's there. I know His plan for Kristin must be amazing.

1 comment:

sarah said...

Take therefore no thought for the morrow; for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.

i love you Aaron.