Maybe if I write some of this out I can focus on the lab report due tomorrow that I should be writing.
We went to one of Magnus’ classmates 5th birthday party. This boys name is Riley and Riley’s dad is getting treatment for his second occurence of lymphoma. The first time was about 3 years ago and he had a stem cell transplant. They found out this past November that he had relapsed and will need another stem cell transplant.
I’ve talked with Riley’s mom a few times, but today at the party we got to talk a lot more. Her husband has been told his survival rate is 30% – the same percentage that Chris was given before his last round of experimental chemo. They will find out tomorrow if he’s in remission, but regardless of the results he must have the stem cell transplant. She knows my husband died of blood cancer nearly two years ago, we first spoke to each other about it around 7 months ago.
I’ve talked with Riley’s mom a few times, but today at the party we got to talk a lot more. Her husband has been told his survival rate is 30% – the same percentage that Chris was given before his last round of experimental chemo. They will find out tomorrow if he’s in remission, but regardless of the results he must have the stem cell transplant. She knows my husband died of blood cancer nearly two years ago, we first spoke to each other about it around 7 months ago.
I’ve told her to ask about anything she wants, and today we were talking about things like trying not to focus on the worst case, because you don’t want to think about it. Talking about how she’s taking a lot more pictures and videos now, so her son’s will have them, so she will have them, if he dies.
After Chris died I would look thru all the photos and wished I had more of him, there were so many of Magnus, and not enough of him.
Talking with her about how awful it was that his last weeks of life were in a fucking hospital with him disoriented and not knowing where he was most of the time. That they told me on a Thursday morning there was nothing more they could do, that the treatment wasn’t working, and he would have a week or two left to live. He died the next afternoon.
Telling her that I wish I would have pressed the doctors more for quality of life questions, that it’s nearly impossible to figure out what to ask, and how to ask it, when you are just trying to get thru the next moment, trying to do whatever it takes to keep your young husband alive so he can see his son grow up. Her husband is younger than Chris, I think he’s around 25 or 26.
She’s wondering what she should be telling her now 5 year old son. It’s a fucking nightmare.
Magnus is napping. I’m exhausted, I just want to numb my brain because remembering those awful fucking times have left me a mess. The end of Chris’ life was horrifying. Re-visiting that pain has knocked me down today. I hope I can be of some help to her, I fucking fucking fucking hope that he responds to treatment, that he gets to see his sons grow up, that he survives this with a good quality of life. And if he doesn’t, if he dies, I hope he doesn’t die like Chris. I hope there is enough time before so that he can die in the comfort of his own home, to see those around him that love him and that he loves before he can no longer recognize anyone around him, before the pain meds to keep him comfortable leave him unable to interact with the world around him.
I need another day, right now I can’t seem to care about the lab report that’s due tomorrow. I’ll care when I’m up until midnight working on it, I’ll care if I turn in something half-assed tommorow afternoon. Fuck, we haven’t gone grocery shopping for the week yet either. Dammit, I need another day.
I need another day, right now I can’t seem to care about the lab report that’s due tomorrow. I’ll care when I’m up until midnight working on it, I’ll care if I turn in something half-assed tommorow afternoon. Fuck, we haven’t gone grocery shopping for the week yet either. Dammit, I need another day.
ad astra per aspera 