10th June - Second round

Hope is a risky thing. They say we should have hope. But when hopes are dashed, you can plummet into a dark place. We were in that dark place last week.

The week started badly with my dad getting Covid and me having to isolate from Pat because I was exposed. Pat had to take himself to the hospital for the long-awaited CT/Cat scan and then we spoke via phone with the Oncology doctor to get the results. The tumour has not changed. The doctor says this is good. It means the chemo is working at stopping the cancer from growing. Pat's blood markers are also showing that the cancer is being kept at bay. The verdict: keep going with the fortnightly chemo treatment. Another round (6 doses, every second Friday, taking us to August) and then another scan.

Despite knowing that it was unlikely that Pat's tumour would shrink, we were quietly hopeful that it would. Although we should have been happy with the news, we were in reality very depressed. Pat took it harder than me. We spoke with our second-opinion surgeon yesterday, and he confirmed that we would have to go another round of chemo before he would consider operating. This is our glimmer of hope that we hang on to.

So here I am in the hospital cafeteria again, while Pat is getting his chemo treatment. He was dreading it today. His left arm has been hurting from a blood clot. After each treatment, the vein they use has been getting a blood clot or collapsing. He's running out of veins. Soon he'll need to get a permanent port to receive the medicine. That brings other complications and makes it even harder to try to live a "normal" life while we hope for a miracle.