We drove down for the liver biopsy last night, checked into a hotel a block from the hospital, and went out for a nice supper. The surgeon told us last week there were a number of new spots on Bobbi’s liver and the biopsy would provide us whether or not there’d even be a surgery. Showed up on time, she was prepped, blood taken, and we waited for the procedure to be done. Thinking positive the whole time but preparing ourselves for grim news.
We weren’t expecting a Christmas miracle, if Twisty isn’t just hiding in some small cell we’d be lucky. There wasn’t a spot to be seen. Strange. She moved into different positions on the CT and still nothing. A different hospital than the first imaging was done. All week long Bobbi has lived with the thoughts that her cancer has spread. Trying to stay positive but even the surgeon, going on the films they had, thought it had spread. When they said there was nothing to biopsy we about ran out of the hospital. I wondered if the beast is watching in the shadow. Damn thing.
Don’t know how, why, or anything in why one place said there was and then another saying all was good. Elated for the good news but also a bit angry that she, and the whole family, had to spend the last eight days mentally preparing for the worst news possible. It was fighting Twisty and having it suddenly becoming a dozen of them. I don’t trust this monster. It makes a horror show mage in Hollywood boring. It’s the stranger in the dark.
We’re unsure what the next step will be. Calls have been made and we’re thinking the original planned Whipple surgery will be next. Get the tumor out of her pancreas and follow it up with 4 months of chemo. Knew it was too early to step out of the batters box. Knew we had to stay and think positive, which we did, but things certainly didn’t look good. Onward with this battle, there will be no rest until Twisty has been destroyed. It’s still inside her and it’s shown to be crafty and deceiving. It felt like Bobbi was walking the Green Mile, going to be strapped into the electric chair, and the phone ringing at the last 5 seconds before the switch was flicked given a full pardon. Each day dreading waking up because it was the first thing on both our minds.
The “You are Loved” party in Wisconsin took place and really brought a smile to Bobbi’s heart! Was so happy to see her having fun talking with so many. It was so good to see her laugh and smile, even in the midst of unsureness in severity. We FaceTimed with everyone and seeing people dancing and wishing her well, missing and loving her, can’t be described in words. Now with this good news she is riding a well deserved wave of happiness. Yes, a major surgery isn’t a great thing thing to look forward to, but knowing that she’s still in the fight is a blessing. Thank you to everyone who took part in this, as well as the support and prayers of others across the globe. It has become a global support. People we’ve never met in person, from Wales, England, Italy, Mexico, and new blogging friends here have been unbelievable. Never imagined that so many would take the time to lend their support, recommendations in getting second opinions, prayers, gifts, all of it! I look back on how we dealt with this last week, look at the goofy video made doing the coneheads skit on the last post, and I’m more convinced than ever that positive thoughts and energy make a huge difference in today and the reality each day brings. There will undoubtedly be more fastballs coming. Not today so will embrace it. She WILL beat this. There is fear but no compromises. It will and hasn’t effected our celebration of Christmas. It’s wanted to! The mental anguish has been the toughest it’s ever been this last week. One I wasn’t sure I’d personally be able to endure physically. But just when your at the edge and brink of despair there is always hope. A simple for letter word that now has so many meanings.
Thank you for the read. Very much appreciated. We couldn’t have the attitude we have without it. Never give up! Pick up the bat no matter how heavy it may seem or how bad the last pitch hurt smashing you in the head and swing away. We all have this ability. May not feel like it at times, but when push comes to shove we learn things about ourselves we never knew existed. Until the next writings please embrace today and try to find the good in it. Hard to do when physical pain wants to be boss. All of us are human and will have these times. Hard to put one foot in front of the other while our bodies and thoughts are saying no more.
There really is no description in believing, even being told, that the cancer has spread to there not being a single spot. The doctor said it might have been inflammation from her first bile stent becoming dislodged. Not going to lift our foot off Twisty’s neck, it’s going down! Going to continue to think positive, make goofy videos, and move forward. When dealing with cancer it’s rare to get good news. It certainly was a relief to learn this good news in the midst of this battle.
UPDATE 12/14/17 – Plans now, after several phone calls between Petoskey and Grand Rapids this morning, is to have 2 more months of chemotherapy and then another scan to see if spots reappear. They’re being cautious and before they do the Whipple procedure. Which makes sense yet knowing the tumor in her pancreas is still there is naturally worrisome. It is what it is and all the worry in the world won’t change anything. We’ll continue to take things day to day and keep swinging at the pitches. Waiting now to see when the chemotherapy will resume. It’s not a set back. Feels like one, because their not really “sure” and I expect things to be in black and white with no in between. All I can do is be supportive and remain strong for her.
The anticipated CT scan took place as planned. Bobbi stopped by the hospital a few days early to have labs done and picked up two bottles of contrast dye she drank before the test. The label on the bottles said they were like a vanilla flavored smoothie but Bobbi shook her head with disgust drinking them down. A long ways from a smoothie she said. They then placed an IV in her arm. Why they continue to stick needles in her, for blood work, IV’s, and such when she has a port confuses both of us. Use it!
Two days later we were back on the road to Petoskey to go over the scan with the doctor. First seeing the nurse, who took vitals and her weight. Then about 45 minutes alone waiting to see the doctor. Usually it’s only five minutes or less after meeting with the nurse. When he came in he explained that the scan hadn’t arrived but the preliminary report did.
He said that everything that could go right went right. The tumor shrank to 3 to 4 millimeters. We were elated. Wow! It went from 3-4 centimeters to millimeters! What we didn’t catch at the time was that he was talking about a tumor present in the liver. Not the one in her pancreas. When he mentioned liver I told him we knew nothing about a spot on Bobbi’s liver. This was the first time even hearing about this. Something didn’t make sense or add up. WTF? When asked about the tumor in the pancreas and it being butted against her portal vein he said the report only detailed the liver. We thought that it must be good news if it went down, the chemo was working, because it wasn’t even mentioned. He asked what plans the surgeon had and we explained that a Whipple was the next step. He said that he didn’t know what criteria the surgeon wanted but perhaps no surgery at all. The tumor had shrunk so much maybe more sessions of chemo? That would be great!
We left the meeting feeling elated, everything that could go right went right he 0said. This was good news right?Though in the back of my mind red flags went up. We text family and relayed the good news. We drove back excited that there was a chance no surgery would take place. Bobbi wanted to celebrate getting a cream puff. There was a bakery across the street from the hospital so we made a quick stop. No cream puffs, she settled for something else.
On the drive home things simply didn’t add up right in my mind. I didn’t want to say anything and wreck the good mood by questioning things. Everything that could go right went right we were told. This must mean what it implied.
After we got home we sat down and read a copy of the report. It gave a detailed summary on the tumor. Problem was that it was a new tumor we didn’t even know existed before today. When it got to the pancreas the report said that the known mass there had poor detail imaging. That was it. One sentence on Twisty. We googled all the medical jargon that the report was written in and learned the tumor he spoke of was in fact in the liver. There were also spots on her lungs but they did appear to be cancer related. Which is what we’re being told today.
Maybe it was scaring from the result of her bile duct problem? The tumor in her pancreas had blocked it, which lead to the jaundice and then her cancer diagnosis in August. A temporary plastic one was placed in the duct to relieve pressure. This fell out about five weeks later and was replaced with a metal one. So maybe it was a spot on the liver from this? Had to be. We would know more when the surgeon calls us from Grand Rapids after they receive the actual imaging. Knew it would take a couple days.
We lived by the phone, waiting to hear from her surgeon. When Friday arrived every thought was on the phone ringing. What a situation. To live your entire life, to suddenly be waiting for a 5-10 minute phone call that would change it forever. The hours passed with no news. At about 4:00 it rang. It was the surgeon. She explained to us that the imaging did arrive late in the day, but because it was a Friday her team wouldn’t be able to read everything, compare them to past scans until Monday. She said she wanted to call us and at least inform us that things did arrive, knowing we were very concerned. Monday? Seriously? I understood why, but it seemed like years until then.
So we waited, determined not to worry and spent the weekend watching TV, cleaning the apartment, talking and finding things to laugh about. Attitude is important and I know how to get her to laugh. We each said we were having bad hair days in the morning. Both being bald made this impossible of course. But it lighten the mood. Bobbi’s energy returned and she was busy as ever going about the day. On Sunday we drove over to see her brother Mike and spent most the time laughing and having a good time. Her family are really good people. We have our moments like any family, but who doesn’t. Situations are dealt with and moved on. One can’t help but leave in a good mood after spending time with him.
On Monday morning Bobbi went with her mother Betty to a doctors appointment for a hip problem that’s been causing her a lot of pain. Which again shows you the type of woman she is. We are waiting for a phone call, that will change her life, one direction or another, and she makes it a point to still take her mother to the doctor. It’s one of the reasons I love her so much. She has always puts others first, with no hesitation.
When she got home we sat on the couch and waited. The hours passed slow. Around 4:55 the phone rang. The called ID said it was from Grand Rapids. It was her surgeon. The call took the wind out of both of us.
The doctor said that her team looked over everything and she was highly concerned about “spots” on her liver (more than one). We asked if it could be related to the bile duct problems from the stenting and she replied that they considered this but some spots were definitely unrelated to that. There were spots that didn’t show up in her scan in August, which were present now. Her scan in October, when she had the metal stent put in showed them, but nobody informed us, assuming we most have been aware of it already. It was the hospital here in the Soo who did the scan in October and they had no idea what we knew and didn’t know. I think the hospital figured we were informed already. Surgeon said the the liver tumor started out about 14 millimeters. Chemo shrank it. Bobbi asked her point blank if it meant her cancer is metastatic, has spread, their was a moment of silence, and surgeon gently said she believed so.
Tests for a biopsy will be done on Tuesday in Petoskey with guided ultrasound. Problem is the chemo worked so well on this tumor that it may be hard to biopsy to know for sure. The fact that it shrunk is a sign in itself. Scars don’t shrink. She also said there were more than one, unrelated to stent problem. It was a very uncomfortable conversation. The surgeons voice sounded sad. We won’t know anything for sure until the biopsy. She recommended that chemo be continued, if it wasn’t making her too sick.
So that’s where we are. Hoping for the best, to hear that it’s nothing to be concerned about, but also know that it’s a game changer. She said there would be no sense to do the surgery if it has spread to her liver. Why put her through that ordeal she added. We are going to drive to Petoskey Monday night, get a room, and be at the hospital early at 8:00. It takes about 72 hours for the results. If they can get to it. If it has spread she will have to stay on chemo forever she said.
I told Bobbi I was done writing about this. She insisted that it must be written. I’m not comfortable doing so. She wants this to help others and it’s very important to her to do so. We don’t know anything for sure. Not going to jump to conclusions without the facts. Angry that we had to find out about the liver spots the way we did. Maybe nothing to be concerned about. The fact that the spots responded to the chemo isn’t good. The fact that the spots shrunk isn’t good. The fact that no one has mentioned anything about the pancreas tumor against her portal vein, is concerning. No mention of it. That was the beast we thought we were fighting. What I do know is that there is a whole lot of fight left in us. We knew that this wouldn’t be easy. It feels like we have to ask the right questions to get the answers.
Yesterday I went out and got us a small Xmas tree and it looks wonderful. We had put up decorations and some lights 2 weeks ago, but not a tree because we thought she’d be in the hospital for the surgery a couple weeks. Bobbi decorated it beautifully and we are still determined to enjoy the holiday. Very hard to do, but refuse to allow it to strip from us the good. We’ve cried, and I hold her at night close. It’s a very confusing time. I looked at her decorating the small tree and decided to take a shower. I wanted to hide my tears. I love her so much and it’s so painful to watch her experience all this. August 24th feels like a million years ago.
There is a gathering of friends being held in Wisconsin this coming Saturday, simply to show us we aren’t alone. It’s overwhelming seeing how many people are involved and doing so much. She is feeling so much love from others that she often sheds tears when a Facebook notice sounds on this iPad. We have it set to sound like popcorn, and at different times it’s like a large kettle is being cooked. Thank you family and friends. Life often shows the worse of humanity on TV and in newspapers. This shows the very best in humanity. The worst three words heard was “you have cancer”. The best three words she has heard is “you are loved”. Thank you are words that can’t describe what this feels like. She has touched so many lives, and will continue to. You have certainly helped her in ways that only love can do. When we decided it was time to let others know what was going on, until now, the love shown has been unbelievable.
The battlefield may have changed a bit. But there is no quit in her DNA. Not now, not tomorrow, not anytime. Tuesday more tests, results probably Friday or Monday. Have gotten about 5 hours a sleep these last few days. How do you tell your mind to shut down when there is no off switch. We move forward and deal with today. She is feeling good, no pain, but it’ like getting hit by a fast ball. Shock, disbelief, confused, concern, all combined into one.
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.
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?
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.
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
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.