Hello everyone! I took a week off from writing an update - mostly because there was no time. But also, it was Thanksgiving weekend, which we spent with my dad, and most of my siblings, nieces and nephews. It was really great to see everybody, and it was really hard at the same time.
Before I get into that, here's the update on Tamara's treatments and condition. The past two weeks were treatments 6 and 7 of 12 (or maybe 13?). We're at least halfway through with these weekly doses and the chickens are coming home to roost. Tamara's anemia has not improved - worsened actually. The labs she did this week almost triggered a blood transfusion because her body isn't producing what it needs.
My guess is that she'll need a transfusion in the next week or two. That's a sentence I never thought I'd have to write about my 30-something wife.
The treatments themselves are becoming more difficult as well. In the first couple treatments, the chemo drugs would heat up her system so much that she hardly even noticed the ice mittens and booties. With her anemia and circulation being so poor lately, the cold has become really uncomfortable. So, my job is to encourage her to tolerate it as long as she can. Neuropathy is no fun, and the ice can help her avoid it.
Have you ever seen Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince? The part where Harry has to force Dumbledor to drink that "Potion of Despair"? Asking somebody to keep inflicting pain and discomfort on themselves, promising that it will be over soon ... Reassuring a person you love that this will all be worth it, when you're not 100% sure yourself - that's a little bit like what chemo is becoming. In fact, I might just start calling chemo the "Potion of Despair."
So, things are getting harder. Her "down-for-the-count" periods are getting longer and less predictable. The nausea has made more frequent appearances, and become more intense. The nose bleeds are also getting worse. It's just hard. And we don't really know how well it's working. She has another 5 or 6 treatments to endure before they'll do another set of scans to see what progress we've made. It's a tough mental battle to fight every week when something as basic as "is this working" is shrouded in mystery.
Anyway, that's how she's doing in a general sense. Returning to what we did for Thanksgiving, we drove up to the Arizona mountains where my Dad lives.
We've heard from a few sources that cancer hates oxygen, and you could say I'm a believer now. When you're not acclimated to elevation (or maybe even if you are), going up to the mountains where the air is thinner is probably counter-productive for a cancer patient.
Observing Tamara's condition before we left almost forced us to stay home. But we did end up making the 90 minute trip on Wednesday afternoon. And unfortunately, her condition only got worse on Thanksgiving Day itself. Last week marked the real beginning of the bone pain we've been warned about, and the dry mountain air did a number on her. She developed small rashes and sores on her face, arms, and hands that are only just starting to heal now that we've been back in a place with a humidifier for a few days. The rashes on her elbows have been particularly annoying. It was pretty rough.
But we were afforded a luxury that made the experience bearable even with the pain and discomfort. My dad secured us a separate little hide-away that was walking distance from the main gathering. That hide-away was used when Tamara needed to rest and be away from 30 excited, screaming nieces and nephews, who seemed to have the time of their lives. It was also really nice to have a quiet spot for Evelyn to nap. (I got my steps in carrying the baby back and forth, so it was good for me.)
Without that separate space, we wouldn't have made it more than a day. And even with it, Tamara wasn't able to rest much. Weird humming machine noises, concerns about little furry visitors, a baby who didn't sleep like one - all those things contributed to a pretty restless few days. I wondered several times if we should just pack up and go home, but Tamara was pretty insistent that we needed to be there.
When she was with the group, you couldn't really tell that anything was wrong with her. If not for the pained look in her eyes that she was almost able to hide, you wouldn't have looked at her and thought, "She should be resting." I was very conflicted the whole time; reveling in the time I got with my siblings while simultaneously knowing how she was really feeling. I was brought to tears several times for several different reasons. And one of those times it was a full-on meltdown.
There was a point in which, in the middle of a group conversation about my mom, I looked at a family picture and realized that Evelyn (our youngest) will never know her Grandma Ray in this life. I haven't ugly-cried like that since the funeral.
The past two years have been very ... dense for the Delwyn and Shelley Rays. We've lived more than two years-worth of life in that time and we have a lot to unpack. That episode showed me a glimpse of just how much is simmering beneath my surface-level facade. When this is all over and Tamara is cancer-free, buckle up. Jared's gonna be a mess.
Even so, it was a sweet few days that we were glad to have. We celebrated my dad's 70th birthday, and Tyler's 40-something birthday. We saw tons of elk roaming the neighborhood - probably enjoying some refuge from hunting season. There was a taffy pull, place-mat coloring, a karaoke party, lots of cooking, and a whole bunch of other fun stuff. Tamara was resting during a lot of that, but made a point to be there for as much as she could. And we definitely weren't short on people wanting to help me with the baby. Again, it was a good time.
They started to just squeeze her arms up and down from shoulder to forearm. And she felt immediate, profound relief. The three of them sat there for a good 20 or 30 minutes. Nobody teaches you these things, and it seems so simple in hindsight, but I thought it was brilliant. Hearing what the pain was like and where it was located was enough. Empathy, compassion, and intuition did the rest. The only remedy I had been able to conjure up prior to this was sympathy. I'm so grateful for the caring, nurturing instincts of the women in my family. I get choked up just thinking about it.
But wait! There's more. Our 20-something niece Mady decided she didn't want to drive back to Idaho with her family right away. She's been staying with us since we all went our separate ways the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and she's been an absolute treasure to have. She has probably played more card games with our kids in the past 4 days than she had played in the whole year prior. Sidebar: What is it about cousin gatherings that gets kids fired up to learn how to shuffle cards? All of a sudden, the social currency in our home revolves around who can shuffle and do the "bridge" thing.
But seriously, I've had one of my most-productive weeks at work because we've had another adult in the house. Mady went with Tamara to her chemo treatment this week, which gave me back another 3-4 hours of productive time when the baby is napping. Seeing this, Tamara suggested that I should just let her do her chemo treatments alone every time. She's funny, right? No way. There's something about the image of her struggling to get her ice mittens on by herself that fills me with "nope". Chemo is one of those things nobody should have to do alone. Granted, there's not a lot to do beyond helping Tamara with the ice accessories. You mostly just sit there, so, it's a good thing that Mady crochets.
I think that's about it. Please keep us in your prayers and good vibe deliveries. Your support has moved mountains for us and we love you all. And to continue the theme of last week - thank you!
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