Yeah, what she said!
Sam is slowly becoming his old self again, although I know he will never, ever truly get all the way back. Each day he tells me a little bit more of what is happening with his body. The other day in my blog, I stated he did not have another doctor's appointment until next month. Silly me. What I found out yesterday is that he actually did have another doctor's appointment, only it was with his doctor at the VA who he sees on a quarterly basis. She is an internist and asked Sam during his appointment if he is aware his liver is enlarged. Uhhh...hmmmmm...yeah...good question. She immediately scheduled an ultrasound for tomorrow morning, meaning Saturday. Is it a good sign when a doctor schedules a test on a Saturday and tells you the door will be locked at the VA clinic so we will have to ring the bell and wait to be let in because the clinic is not normally open on Saturdays? Just curious.
Thinking about all the tests the past 3 years conjured up memories of how the first PET scan went and how much trouble we had with it. The radiologist who read it actually read the wrong test and then when he did pull up the correct one, misdiagnosed Sam and insisted, even while doing a needle biopsy in his lung that it was just scar tissue and he was going to prove it. Oh yes...remembering all that conjured up some rather testy moments in my memory bank and times of actually yelling (how unusual of me) at the person on the other end of the phone, ranting on for several minutes. Then, in January and February of 2010, spending each and every day either on the phone or at the hospital, clinic or various doctors' offices trying to get the diagnosis straight on all of Sam's records. What a nightmare...or perhaps I should rephrase that...I was the nightmare. I am certain when some people saw me coming, they wished they could just close the door and lock it so they would not have to deal with some crazy woman who was half out of her mind because her husband had been misdiagnosed and then found to have stage IV cancer which was, and is, incurable.
Ok...I ranted. Onward.
Today marks week 2 post-chemo and he is that odd looking sallow color which almost makes him look like he is embalmed (no kidding, Roy, you should see him!) Thankfully he smiled often tonight and he kissed me goodnight, first time in 3 months. Happy Dance! It is the little things in life which make a person happy, as I am sure you understand.
Walking is proving to be more and more difficult for him. As we drove to the VA yesterday, he told me he probably only has 75% use of his left leg (the one he lost complete use of in the summer of 2011 and had radiation on) and that his right leg, foot and ankle are having problems, with maybe about 85% use, if not less. Watching him struggle to walk is almost painful at times and we both believe it relates to the tumors in his lower back pressing up against the nerves. Since he cannot have anymore radiation, I wonder if it will be sooner rather than later when he is no longer able to walk.
His spirits are good and for that, I am grateful.
q'ua
