The back story...

Well, I've been told I should journal to express what I'm feeling and vent to release stress.  Now, realistically, I have no idea that this will work.  But, I do enjoy the thought of putting my thoughts out there.  It doesn't matter to me if anyone reads it.  The purpose is just to get my thoughts out...  While I could certainly just journal in Microsoft Word, I always fear that my husband would see something.  He carries enough guilt, he doesn't need to see when I am feeling down, or to know I'm down as a result of his illness!  I also don't pretend to be a good writer!  Rather, I'm certain I'm not!  My thoughts are too chaotic and I tend to ramble...  on and on and on...  :)  So, I'll blog...  For now...  We'll see where it goes!

So, I sit here tonight...  Feeling icky...  Tomorrow is a chemo day.  Forrest, my husband, will endure yet another chemo treatment.  His body has been poked, prodded, tortured and mutilated for over 5 years.  Forrest was diagnosed with cancer in Nov. 2005.  Colo-rectal cancer.  He went in for surgery the next day, the day before Thanksgiving, and had a foot of his large intestine removed.  As they opened him up, they saw the tumor had eaten its way through his intestinal wall and was attaching itself to his abdomen.  This is why Forrest felt pain.  As matter moved through his intestines, it was also seeping at the open wound, causing infections.  Yick.  Unfortunately, at that time, they also saw Forrest had tumors in his liver.

I was about 6 months pregnant with our third child, when I found out my husband had stage IV cancer.  As bad as it can get.  As I broke down and cried after talking with the doctor, my mother started to yell at me.  (This is nothing new.)  She told me to stop crying, to knock it off, and that I had to think about the baby.  (I had miscarried the previous pregnancy.)  I tried to assure my mom that I wasn't "losing it" and that I would be okay.  But I found myself snipping at her.  Who was she to say I couldn't cry over my husband?  Did she have any idea what it felt like to be in my position?  I had two children and a baby on the way.  I just found out my husband had cancer and it was spreading.  The realization that I wouldn't have all the time I wanted with him was terrifying. 

I remember arguing with my mother that she had no right to tell me not to cry.  I was facing some serious crap here!  And she had 30+ years with her husband.  Her children were grown and raised, and having children of their own.  How could she possibly know how I was feeling and what I was going through?  How could she have the nerve to tell me not to be upset?  Soon after, the surgeon told me he was confident my husband had 6 months to live.  What a terrible feeling to think my husband had so little time.  He would barely know our baby.  He'd miss so much in the raising of our children!  :(  I was devastated.

Eventually, we were able to meet with the oncologist.  As we began to ask questions and try to figure things out, the oncologist informed us he didn't consider Forrest terminal!  A light at the end of the tunnel!  A much welcomed ray of hope! 

Soon after, Forrest began chemo treatments.  I watched as poison was pumped into my husband.  I watched him get more and more sick.  The side effects were terrible for him.  I was living a nightmare, watching what he was going through.  I could stand by, get his meds, ensure he was taking anti-nausea meds.  But I couldn't take the pain and sickness away.  All I could do was watch... 

After 6 long months of chemotherapy, my husband underwent another surgery.  This time on his liver to try to remove the lesions.  I'd like to say that from this point on things started to look up for us.  But, our battle was only beginning. 

We never really got control of the cancer.  Tumors continued to grow in Forrest's liver.  New lesions came, old lesions started to grow again.  Forrest had more tests, more procedures, more surgeries and more treatments to try to cure this disease.  And yet, the cancer grew.  Eventually, the cancer spread to Forrest's lungs.  Statistically, he has less than a year to live.  That being said, Forrest has lived longer than a year from when we found tumors in his lungs.  I'm thankful for each and every day we've had. 

At this point, Forrest is doing a pill-based form of chemo to try to slow the progression of the disease.  Surgery is not an option at this point, as too much of his lung would have to be removed.  There are 10 tumors in his lungs, as well as tumors in his liver.  The outlook is not good, realistically.  We are trying to buy time, at the expense of my husband feeling well.  At some point, I know we'll have to make a decision to make the most of the time, and we'll have and stop treatments.  I know this to be true, and I will support my husband whole-heartedly when he decides he's had too much.  I can say this because I also know how hard it is to watch the pain in my children's eyes.  The pain that winds its way through every fiber of our being.  The pain of seeing Daddy sick, yet again.  The pain of knowing Daddy would give anything to be able to spend quality time with our children, yet, finds himself unable to get out of bed some days.  I've seen the pain reflected in my children's eyes, as well as in their tears.  My heart has broken, right along with my children.  There will come a time when we want to try to make the most of the time left, and not deal with the side effects the chemo causes.  Quality of life becomes more important than quantity at some point.  And there's no guarentee that we are increasing the amount of time left anyway. 

Well, perhaps I've rambled long enough.  You have enough back story right?  Should you need more, just let me know!  :)