The glioblastoma wife-4

Shortly after Thanksgiving, I deactivated my FB account.

I could not post, share, or like anything, anymore.

I could not engage in other social forums, either.

I do not disrespect those who do; my choice is not about people who share there.

This is about me and me only.

People behave according to what is going on with them, not you. 

Think about that.

I strongly believe this to be true, for most every situation.

Right now, social media forums hold little value. For me.

If it appears I’ve “disappeared,” you’re mostly right. If I don’t reach out, it is because I can’t.

Think of the deer in the headlights syndrome.

Sideswiped, devastated, and slammed are appropriate descriptors.

What happened to the air? It is hard to breathe.

I want to crawl into a corner. I want this to go away. Now.

This hurts worse than any pain I’ve ever known.

This hurts worse than any pain I’ve ever known.

Was that a typo?

No.

I cannot and should not self-isolate, though. Family members need me.

I need me.

I need to express myself. I need to share. That place is right here.

Cancer does not get easier. It does not go away.

Do you talk about end of life (EOL) issues with your partner? Do you know what their wishes are, what you will do if/when that time comes? What if it comes suddenly? Are you prepared?

We don’t have a choice. We are faced with issues I’ve not written about here.

A terminal diagnosis does something to a person.

Do we expect the world to stop because of us? Certainly not, but…

…if I don’t seem like myself, I hope you will understand why.

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Yesterday, we had a visit from our niece. She is the very best.

I cannot say enough good about her. I’ve always felt this way….(does she know?)

She brings us joy. This is irreplaceable.

Our daughter stopped by last evening for a short visit. We had tea and small talk in the kitchen. It was nice.

I ordered four new rugs for the house.

They are Persian, silk, in a beautiful, red pattern.

I also ordered new rugs for the bathroom.

I can’t tell you how good it feels to do something normal, to think about doing something normal.

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Friday, almost four weeks post treatment, Bruce had his first MRI.

I wanted to throw up the entire day. I was shaky.

We don’t have results yet.

The radiation oncologist (RO) told us previously that he treats the patient, not the MRI.

Should there be “patterns,” it may not be cancer; rather, it is common on the first MRI to see the effect of radiation necrosis.

Long after treatment stops, the radiation keeps killing cancer cells. It can also negatively affect the brain. Swelling is the most common side effect.

Next steps will be determined not just by the scan, but by how Bruce feels.

As of right now, there are tired moments, not full days of being tired.

He is swimming, working, and driving. He is happy.

It is so nice to see him happy.

He is happiest when he is productive.

He is smiling again.

I am grateful.

We see the RO tomorrow.

Trazodone and Celexa help.

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Blessings and thank you for reading. ❤