Doing Better

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On Wednesday we left Sault Ste. Marie at 6am, for Petoskey for Bobbi’s fourth chemo treatment. One of the medicines hadn’t arrived at the hospital yet, because of extreme weather the day before. Treatment was delayed about an hour so we returned to the car and took a nap until it did. Actually seen the UPS driver come in with a cart of boxes delivering it. We first met with her doctor and went over what type of week she had and what her lab numbers were. The white cells had dropped some, into the 20,000 range but he felt it was safe to have the treatment.

She went through it like a pro. Was pleasant to everyone and the doctor even mentioned she was the high point of his day. It still amazes me how brave and good humored she remains. The last couple of weeks had taken a beating on her body, the last a lot better than the week before.

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The night was restless though. Though she had little memory of it. I stayed up on and off to make sure things stayed alright. She ran a little of a fever but didn’t get sick. Her blood sugar numbers continued to bounce all over the place. Between 200 and 500.

The next day she was up early and continued with her plans on going to DeTour with her mother to see her sister Lori and said she felt fine. I stayed back and cleaned the house and caught up on some sleep. When she got back early evening she said she was tired but had no problems. Which was great news. The chair that her sister and her were working on they drove to her brother Mikes house and gave it to him. He was really appreciative for it. The guy really is a great brother-in-law. He’d give the shirt off his back to anyone and it was nice to see the family work on a project making him happy. He does so much for everyone, his brother Steve and wife Debbie too, and never asked for anything in return. All of her family is like this. That’s why I believe she knew she was ill when we moved from Wisconsin, so she could be with her mother and siblings during this challenging time. When night came around it was as restless as the one before. Tossing and turning every few minutes.

Today it was like she was in a chemo fog. Nodding off to sleep one minute and up the next. Kept things very simple. I did some clothes, went grocery shopping for items she liked, and kept my eye on her without hovering. She stayed on her nausea medicine and didn’t get sick at all. Was just out of it though. The chemo really takes its toll on a persons fatigue. She ate good but again her blood sugar numbers were off the chart. Our new family doctors office called and put her on more insulin too. Didn’t seem to matter and will be something we’re going to stay on top of. Know it has a lot to do with her pancreas, which is where the tumor is, and is a real concern.

She has two more treatments until they do a CAT scan to see if the tumor has shrunk enough to do the whipple surgery on it. If so it will probably be scheduled around the middle of December. That’s what we are hoping for. Get Twisty the hell out of there. There will then be four more months of chemo after she heals from the surgery.

She is doing well. Every day feels like the same and the days in the week are nameless. It’s taking things one day at a time. Her attitude is good but it frustrates her not having her usual energy, it’s a blessing that it was the stent that appears to have caused so much turmoil the past few weeks and not a result of the chemo treatments. This is at least tolerable she said. It’s good to see her eating. I try to do everything that physically needs to be done so that she can simply concentrate on resting and making it through her day with as little problems as possible.

We continue to talk a lot and voice our concerns on the seriousness of things. Try not to worry or get to far ahead of ourselves. It’s really tough being so far away from our kids in Wisconsin and Shay in Australia but not much anyone can do about it at this time. Know it’s just as difficult for them. She wanted to make some calls tonight but was to whipped out.

I’m doing the best I can with what I have to work with. The worry is constant and waiting for anything has always drove me nuts. It’s good to no longer see her in physical pain, needing no medications for it. She is pushing on. Weight loss is an issue so we are doing what we can about that. Things take time. We want automatic answers and quick fixes. This is a whole new ballgame though. It’s reassuring to see her cancer team and new family doctor staying on top of things.

What also amazes me is how life can suddenly change so quickly. One minute all is well, and the next it’s the complete opposite and your fighting for your life, literally. I experienced this with emergency bypass surgery, and then she went from possible gallstones problems to a cancer battle. It seems like a million years ago when life was simple and watching freighter ships pass by. Sitting by a campfire and joking, then to ambulances and IV tubes and beeping machines. She is a determined spirit and a positive person. When she went to bed tonight, at around 8:30, I laid down with her for about a half hour just holding her and lightly massaging her shoulders and back, kissing her lightly on the back of her neck, listening to her breath. She shifts around every few moments. Unaware of it though. Last night she got up about three times and barely remembers.

Nobody knows what our tomorrows hold. Things change so quickly. If I can relay one thing to others it’s the importance of taking in all the good and meaningful times with loved ones. Forget the petty arguments and just work things out with compromise. You never know when serious challenges will be at your door, trying to break in and and create havoc. Tell the people who matter that their important, don’t wait until tomorrow thinking that it’s a given. Life is just too short to get caught up in things that really don’t matter. When butting heads with strangers try to take just a couple seconds thinking what mountain they may be climbing. One thing the world needs more of is simply kindness and compassion. At times it feels like everyone is screaming at the other about their views and beliefs, demonizing the ones who feel or think different. Just agree it’s okay to disagree and move on. We all seem to have a few things in common if we take the time to listen. Trust me, it can and does change with one doctors visit or in one single heartbeat. We never think terrible things will happen today, until they do.

Bobbi is resting peacefully and that okay for the moment. We’ll deal with the next moment as soon as it arrives. Again thank you for the concern many have and are showing. Both family and friends. Hopefully there will be a time where we can help you during your rough roads. Really, isn’t that what life’s all about?

Thank You

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It’s the middle of the night again and wide awake, yet my minds in a trance like thought pattern. Bobbi sleeping soundly, having had a couple better days unlike the past weeks before them. Our day started out with each feeling like we got good sleep, though mine was split up in segments. Feels like sleeping with one eye open. Afraid to go to sleep completely. The only sound in the house is my oxygen machine letting out a pumping sound every three seconds. I sit here in the dark, using the keypad on our iPad, using one finger at a time, trying to wrap my mind around everything. Just a little under two months ago she received the diagnosis of having pancreatic cancer. I can’t imagine what’s going on in her mind. Most the time, I’ve no clue what’s going on in my own. I just know that no weakness can be shown. In my early years growing up in big cities weakness was a something pushed aside and never shown. No matter what the feeling were inside. You simply didn’t display it. Doing so would open the door to predators and this cancer I feel is like that. Give it just a centimeter, a small tiny entrance, and it would use the opportunity to become stronger. The strong swallow the weak and that’s how this world, and life has always operated. It’s hard to let go and let faith be and do what it supposed to do. I know this worry and concern will do no good, because it drains you of the strength needed for the battles. Knowing this, and convincing the brain of the same is two different things. I don’t want to let my guard down even for a second. Yet what’s taking place inside her body cares less about what I think and do. I have no control over the higher powers to be. I have control in helping with discomfort and her knowing she is loved, but none when it comes the battle between the body and medications of another. All I can do, and try to do, is be positive and caring. Yet it’s on my mind every minute of everyday.

Today she got up, checked her blood sugar numbers and they continue to jump all over the place. She’s eating right, taking her insulin, and it seems to matter little. She felt like she had to stay busy. Doing household chores like nothing was wrong, wanting no help. I got that. When I was the sickest I wanted no help either. I wanted to physically tell myself that I wasn’t ill and was going to do what I had to do. Wither it was shoveling snow or chopping wood. Push through the pain and the body would follow. All a bunch of BS. After she started laundry I knew, without even seeing her, that it was time for a break. I was right. When I walked in to help she was exhausted and wore out. Suggested that she took a break and I’d finish things up. She agreed and laid down awhile letting me do so. I knew what she was doing, because I did the same. Pretend all was well and push on. Too bad the body doesn’t work that way in reality. Pushing on only puts more strain on a body that needs rest. Causing the opposite effect in what’s needed.

Survivors guilt is also real. Why am I still alive after all my cardiac challenges, after 27 hospitalizations, quadruple bypass, 25 trips cath lab visits, 19 stents, radiation, EECP, 10-months of physical rehabilitation, etc… and now she is the one fighting for her life? It should be me and I’d take all of it if I could. I tell myself that it was so I could now be around for her. There was a purpose to my survival. Things make better sense now. I have to hang on now for her. I certainly hope that is in the cards. I can’t image her taking on this battle without her best friend and husband. We’ve been so fortunate to have developed the relationship we have. It hasn’t always been easy, what long term relationship is? But it’s certainly been worth it. We remember simpler times and tell each other we’re glad we had our eyes open while experiencing them. Watching our children grow up, the joy that grandkids bring, our friends and family. As you get older this is part of it. Taking care of the other when one is in need. We each see things from the others perspective now too. The feelings of helplessness, the prayers of their getting better, learning from the other what they are really made of in the worst of times. Maybe I had to go through my issues to show her that a person can get through and beat unbelievable odds. That you don’t give up and quit when every body part hurts and the the mind is telling you no more. When every step taken your wondering if the other foot will follow. But you do it. You question why when the world seems to hold little joy, but then are reminded that many do exist. You always have more living to do. More things to experience, more love to feel from the lives that matter. It’s these things that keep you going.

Later in the afternoon we had such a time. It came with a simple walk outside during a beautiful day. Just walking, holding hands, and talking. Feeling the breeze, hearing from loved ones, enjoying a nice supper. It was a good day. I didn’t want these writing to just detail the terrible and troubling days, but to include the good and positive ones. The times during the day where things are okay and no matter what’s going on your glad to be alive. Today was one of those days. We try to have as many of them as we can. We try to look at the glass as half full in all situations. It’s not easy, you have to vent when it’s needed, you have to let the tears out when they come. You can’t look at every 24 hours in a negative way. If you do your blind to the things that really matter most. The things that make life worth living. We laugh and joke around a lot. Some days not so much but you get through them. Bobbi is a very unique person. She has a way of making anyone smile and feel better about themselves and life in general. She is by far the kindest person I’ve ever met. No comparison. The fastballs and curves may come in on us, at unexpected times and speeds, but you just have to get through them. The painful times are the worst. You want so badly to take it away. All one can do is comfort and sometimes that’s impossible. All you can do then is hold them and assure them they are and never will be alone. You hope the medications of modern medicine relieve the physical discomfort.

I have no idea what’s going to be written about, unless it’s an update of events taking place. Been told this and that about support groups and all that. I can’t imagine them helping any stronger than being there talking and sharing with each other. I know it’s frustrating when people aren’t hearing from her directly on the phone or through messaging. It’s not because she doesn’t want to. Often I don’t “want” to either. But she has been a friend to many and people care and need to know how she’s doing. Often I’ll copy and paste when things are moving fast and many need to be kept in touch with. Times like this I can share more in a more personal way. She has touched so many lives with her laugher and love. We are certainly fortunate to have so many caring people in our lives. Cancer, like all diseases, are hard and painful. We all probably know someone, family members or friends, or even ourselves who take on the battles. Reach out to these people. Let them know they’ve made a difference in your life. Forget the small and petty things. No one should go through hardships alone. Life is so difficult to explain and figure out. Just when you think you have something comes along and throws the cards completely in the air. Thank you again for the love and support everyone is showing her, its mattered a great deal. She WILL beat this. I don’t care what the odds of certain things are. Odds have two sets of numbers. I wish there was a way to give thanks to the many people who have included her in their prayers and thoughts. Some we’ve never met but have been told they are from sea to sea. Life has its evil and dark sides, but it also shows humanity at its best. I know I look at it much differently. We get notes and cards from caring people we’ve never met, telling us she’s on their prayer trains. What more can be said but a humbled thank you.

This weekend we are taking things slow, preparing the mind and body for another round of chemo and a major surgery in December. There is a calm in the battle. Prayers are being heard and answered. We’ve also learned a fundraiser is being planned in Wisconsin. Thank you.

Faith

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What a day. Bobbi’s glad to be home but sleep continues to be calling her every few hours. Which is good. Sometimes it’s good for the reason of taking one away from the reality of being awake. She’s had some nightmares so could be a double-edged sword. Yesterday afternoon Lori and Jim stopped by for a visit and it picked her spirits up. Had a few hours of awake time. Then laid back down. She got up at around 8:00pm after a couple hour nap. I kissed her on the cheek and hit the bed.

That’s about what time my own cardiac battle flared up. Knew it was overdue. The last seven weeks finally took its toll and my body told me it was time to shut things down. I put four slow release nitroglycerin patches on and two under the tongue tablets. Oxygen and morphine followed. Palliative care is management mostly. Everything medically has been done. When she came to bed, guess about 10:00, she couldn’t get comfortable and kept shifting around every 15 seconds. She was sore but doing a lot better and so glad we didn’t have to return to the hospital down state the night before. I knew I had to sleep so went and laid down on the air mattress. When I got up and checked on her she had moved from the bed to the recliner. Checked her temp and returned to the bed. At about 2:00 she returned to bed, thought I was still on the air mattress so startled both of us. I climbed out and returned to the air mattress. It was like playing musical beds. She says it feels like someone punched her from the inside out.

The night was long for both. She had nightmares and I fought off the same. I felt like there were four gremlins pulling on my arms and legs downwardly. I didn’t know what the outcome of the night would bring but remember thinking in my head “God, all this is yours, sort it out and be done with it one way or the other”. Fell back to sleep not knowing what the answer would be. Bad dreams filled the night. One had a nurse cutting Bobbi’s ponytail with a table saw.

In the morning I woke up about 8:00 and Bobbi was laying back in the recliner. Awake but exhausted. She started to eat more, as tough as it was so this is a good sign. We talked about the last seven weeks and all they contained. Three ER hospital trips, two hospitalizations, diagnoses, 4 meetings, two different stent procedures, six scans and imaging tests, a port being placed, 3 different cities and 2,000 miles of mileage in the car. We had a good talk. We knew that faith and trying to remain positive, even when your down for the count, had to be the focus. We opened up some packages from friends and family and felt very blessed. Thank you. Haven had time to directly respond but they have certainly helped a great deal.

Lori and Jim stopped by this morning after our talk and it picked up her spirits more. I missed most of the visit because I continued the oxygen and slept after we talked. She’s now sleeping again, it’s about 1:00pm but she asked to be awaken in 2 hours.

So quite the roller coaster. But it feels like the biggest loop is coming in for a rest. I’m slowly lowering the nitro each hour and feel much better. We still don’t have a new family doctor, since our last one retired, but have an appointment on Monday here in the Soo. After having such a wonderful one on Drummond Island we’re hoping for the same. If so it will save a lot of travel time and ferry rides. With winter coming it may be for the best.

Sometimes you just have to keep swinging. Roll with the punches, take a few, but ultimately have to get back up. Neither one of us are quitting anything. Going to simply use this weekend eating right and preparing for another chemo trip on Wednesday. Oh boy, really looking forward to that. Not.

Things are getting better. Doesn’t sound like it but they are. Could be in worse shape, and many others are. Like they say, we all have a mountain to climb, yet it doesn’t need to be conquered in one day. We are a long ways from the finish line. I keep in mind the serenity prayer, and know this too shall pass. Can’t see a rainbow without seeing the storms. She WILL beat this.

One Day at a Time

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September 17, 2017,
The port where the chemo cocktail during treatments will be put in, here in the Soo on Tuesday. Treatments begin this coming Wednesday, the next day, in Petoskey. Friday was spent there, having lab work done and meeting the doctor that She’d be dealing with. He was a nice man and had a sense of humor. Bobbi liked him so that’s what counts most. Having spent 45 years working in the field of medicine and helping others her instincts were sharp. When he first came in I wasn’t sure, he asked her how she was doing, which she replied “good”, he replied “no you aren’t, you have cancer”. He had a point… but her attitude was good, she had been hurting a lot early, but at the moment good. The doc was about 65, and had a warm smile. I couldn’t image the lives he’s seen in his lifetime. Things are being setup for Wednesday’s. Hitting the road early, when it’s still dark, and returning later in the evening. Side effects would be many. The illness has already made life tough, so two different battles being fought. The disease and the medicine used to shrink the tumor. Nights have been rough. Nausea with stabbing and twisting pain. It’s last about 30 minutes. All I can do is keep her hair out of the fluids her illness is expelling. When she is sweating, cold wash clothes rotated in and out of the freezer. One feels so helpless. Lori invited us out to relax outside of DeTour Village, at their summer cabin, so we drove here after the trip to Petoskey. Her mothers cabin is next door so it was nice to see her and Fred yesterday and for a bit today. Had a nice meal, walked the beach, and sanded away on an old chair being refurbished for her brother Mike. He’s done do much for others that it’s a project many have taken on. The chair, a rocker, was somebody’s pride and joy at one time. But it certainly seen it’s better days. It had been restored to life about five times. Old springs, strings, rope held layers of fabric. The wood and frame is nice, made of hard cherrywood. Yesterday we spent the day on it. Passed time and kept us busy. We talk nonstop, about everything. Then BAM Twisty shows it’s nastiness.

Today we spent about two hours on the beach. The sun is bright and the waves were loud. They snapped at the shoreline in a calming way. We looked across the water and just took everything in. She had spent her early years, sitting in the exact spot, wondering what her future would hold. Now she was here, looking across the water reflecting on how it’s being lived. She laid back on the sand, arms outstretched, looking up at the sky. Her head and arms facing the waves. The white foam of the waves would cease into little bubbles and color the sand a dark wet tan. They stayed about a foot from her head. We listen to the waves. No man made sounds could be heard. Just the earth. A wave suddenly splashed higher on the shore and lightly broke to a calm stream and gently brushed her arms and hair. It was like the Great Lake had blessed her I said. A body of water that has taken freighters and ships down gently touched her. A force that can be so powerful, which has taken real lives, calming her today. She laughed and sat up, hair wet and curly, sand all over, and laughed. Then laid back and welcomed the ones that barely reached her.

She picked up a stick and started to draw in the sand. I asked her to draw what the cancer looked like in her mind. Draw whatever came to mind. It was a twisting barb of a tornado shape to the bottom. When she was done we wrecked it. Getting rid of it like she is going to beat it. She asked me to use the stick and draw my heart disease. I drew a heart, and took black weeds and piled them randomly on and around it. We kicked it away, telling each to go away. It was therapeutic in a lot of ways. We are going to keep the stick of course.

We talked and talked. About the future and the seriousness of things. Her cancer and dealing with my palliative care issues. What we each wanted and didn’t want. We each agreed that when a person dies their spirit is united with the important people who left earlier, and that we’d be able to fly.

It was nice to spend our weekend in such a serene place, among many islands. It’s on the very eastern tip of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Today is Sunday and we are working on the rocking chair on and off. Football is on the TV buts it’s mostly background noise. I care little about whose playing and what scores are. I use to read world news constantly and couldn’t go an hour without reading something on the internet. Now, it’s like I really could care less what’s going on in the world. It’s strange that so much can take place in your life, change it, in just a few short days. Short days that have felt like a lifetime. Drawing in the sand together was the right thing at the right time. We were marriage 100 feet away, in her mothers yard. We talked and talked. For some reason she likes me reading to her so this is something new we’ve started. We plan on doing this while her chemo medicine drips into her heart. The book I started to read turned smutty on us, we laughed and said that we doubted I’d read it during treatment. We have a lot different reading material so it shouldn’t be a problem. Plan on reading some books Jen’s mother Carol sent us, and a novel. This is probably our last weekend of nice weather here. The trees are starting to turn colors. So many unknowns right now. Have thought about what to share in these writings and what not to share. Not naming a lot of the doctors and hospital staff to protect their identities. Bobbi and I want to keep the family updated, in addition to it possibly helping others who are going through similar situations down the road.

For we live by faith, not by sight.
2 Corinthians 5:7 

Grand Rapids

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What a busy week. On Labor Day we packed the car and preceded to Grand Rapids, Mercy Hospital. Bobbi had her CAT done but hadn’t received any information on it yet. Her cancer team in Grand Rapids told us about the “Hope Lodge” a block away from the hospital. It cost nothing to stay there, sponsored by the American Cancer Society. I thought no way. We were a long ways from home and had no idea how we’d afford the journey. Like millions of other families we lived month to month on her social security. I was prepared to simply sleep in the car at night. Wasn’t a big deal. The big deal was what was taking place inside my wife’s body.

The hospital first wanted us there on a Tuesday for a imaging test called EUS for staging of the cancer. This would provide the information that haunted us. The test was completed and the next few days until Friday seemed like an eternity of time. The Hope Lodge was extremely comforting. Everyone there was fighting cancer and were battlers. It felt surreal walking into the doors. A kind lady named Stacy greeted us at the door and took us on a tour. There was a exercise room, reading room, billiards table, and a huge kitchen area for meals. The rooms were nice and very clean. What more could one wish for during this tense time? Guests were able to cook meals. Refrigerators were assigned to each family and one room had shelves stocked with different foods from the kindness of others. We can’t say enough good about this place. Everyone was kind and supportive. Meeting other cancer patients was good. Learning of their own personal battles helped a lot. We certainly all have our mountains to climb. She and her sister Chrissy, who lived about 45 minutes away went out together for the day on Thursday. The visit picked up her spirits and helped pass the time before the meeting. The wait was torture for us. Bobbi was experiencing nausea and stomach pain. The nights were long. Shay is going to school in Australia, which is a 12 hours time difference so it was nice messaging with her in the deep of it. During the day we did the same with Sean and Jen, in addition to Bobbi’s siblings. Each helped us a great deal. Everyone was concerned and supportive. What a situation our family was suddenly confronted with.

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On Friday we met with her main doctor, a lady named Jill. She explained the results of the different tests and what our options were. The tumor was located on the top of her pancreas, which was more positive than in other areas. Because it was in this area, blocking her gallbladder duct, Bobbi’s body showed that there was something wrong. The change in skin color, the nausea, the blood sugar numbers bouncing all over the place, not to mention the weight loss. All symptoms that told her to get in and see our doctor. Some people dealing with this type of cancer get little advanced warning. Which in turn makes it more difficult to catch and treat. The CAT scan showed no spreading of the disease. The best course of action would be chemotherapy and then a surgery named ‘whipple’. The goal was to shrink the tumor and stop any cells from spreading, and when it was safe to surgically remove it. We’d began with 2 months of chemo, have another CAT scan, and see if it did in fact shrink the tumor. If so a month would be needed for all the chemo to leave her body and surgery. A major surgery. After this more chemo. A total of six months. Once each week, for three weeks in a row and then a week off. The chemo treatments will take place in Petoskey, Michigan. About an hour and 45 minutes away. On the way home we stopped at Lori’s and Jim’s house for a couple of days. Could think of no better place to shelter us from the storm. She’s close with everyone in her family. Mike and Steve, her younger brothers, and Lori and Chrissy her younger sisters. her father passed away some years back, of cancer, and that is still fresh in everyones minds and heart. Her mother, Betty,  are close as well. Its been a very emotional three weeks for everyone.

First a port will be placed into her chest. This is a tube where the Chemo will be dripped into. We are waiting for the local hospital here in the Soo to call us on the date. On Friday we travel to Petoskey for our first consultation visit, in just a few days.

On Sunday we talked with Sean and Jen. They had told the grandkids. We were waiting until we learned more on the battle plan. It must have been a difficult meeting to have. We are a close family and just the word cancer is scary. We made a short video to show them a visual that things were well, and followed up their talk with a FaceTime call. You want to protect the people you love from worry and stress, but at the same time its important to have the children know that this battle will take place and that we are going to beat it. We have some good things in our favor. Catching it early and the location where it the tumor was discovered. We aren’t out of the woods in any fashion. Its going to be a long and tough road. Bobbi’s attitude throughout this has been amazing. There are moments of unsureness, but they’re talked through and discussed. We could sit back and just cry and let the sorrow drain us, or we can put on the armor and get ready for the fight. Jen sent us lots of oils and her mother Carol sent us lots of reading on holistic information. We’re very close with her parents. Every holiday was spent together while living in Wisconsin. Bobbi has chosen to only share the news with a few friends there as well. She doesn’t want people to worry or feel sorry for her. Which I get 100 percent. People will learn in time I’m sure. But right now its a family matter and all our energy is being spent in preparing for the chemo and surgery. Getting our ducks in a roll with insurance coverage and so forth. We’re on medicaid so lots of pre-authorizations and phone calls are being made.

We are choosing to believe that we can and WILL beat this. There is no room for doubt. I can’t began to imagine whats going on in her mind. This is the strongest woman Ive ever met, whose taking on a battle that is going to be beaten. We now have the facts, the battle plan, and now waiting on the first treatment. In the meantime its important to get as many calories into her system as possible. There have been some rough spots of sickness throughout the day and night. Its such a helpless feeling wanting to spare her the pains and be unable. I’ve dealt with over 25 hospitalizations the last 6 years with heart issues. A failed quadruple bypass surgery, and 19 stents put into my heart. Everything medically that can be done has finished. I’m on palliative care for comfort. My battle may help her in knowing that we can do anything we put our minds to. We each look at life differently than just a few weeks ago.

The Island

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August 30, 2017
Today we traveled on Ferry to see Dr. Aldridge on Drummond Island. We came down early to her Mothers cabin not far from the island. Time was spent with the family and walking the dunes of the beach. Short videos were made trying to keep a positive mind set. We knew we had to be strong. Bobbi never once complained or whined about any of this. We had a million unanswered questions and being patient was the most difficult. Hearing your wife has such a devastating type of cancer is so confusing. How far along was it? How far has it spread? What beast were we looking at?

The meeting with Dr. Aldridge was difficult. His concern showed on his face. A very kind and compassionate man. The staff at this small medical clinic seemed like family. They were in as much disbelief as we were. They knew we were battlers and if anybody could deal with this it was us they shared. We talked about what took place in Petoskey, and the CAT scan planned this Friday. While we waited for the ferry to take us back we had ice cream at a little stand close by. It was sunny and blue skied day. Everything still felt fuzzy and not really taking place. I was scared but didn’t want to show it. I knew Bobbi was but wouldn’t admit to it. She put on her armor the moment we were informed that she had cancer. I’m amazed how quickly she accepted things and how cheerful and positive she was. We knew so very little. We stayed in contact with the family and kept everyone updated. The time alone at the cabin did us good. Lots of talks and walks.