What's this "last" you speak of?

What's this "last" you speak of? We don't talk like that. This has been by far the most stressful period of my life. I never realized how much this whole process takes out of you, even as an observer. It consumes mass amounts of time, finding new articles, more research, anything to give me a little extra jolt of hope. As the weather changes I can see the change in my dad's attitude. I still haven't been able to decide if it's becuase the days are getting shorter or his life is. It's frustrating when the most happy-go-lucky guy you know with a million jokes has nothing funny to tell me when I call.
I don't think that dad's received the oral chemo yet. It's supposed to come in the mail and first they had to get through all the red insurance tape which is ANGERING to say the least. Couldn't they just send it and deal with the red-tape later? It's been a little over a week since he should have had his last treatment and I feel like in the mean time the tumors could be growing and there's some lady somewhere sitting behind a desk on her thumbs who doesn't know my dad, or care how much he means to us. Every day that we waste is a day that we could have...well...not wasted.
He went to the ER tonight with pain in his foot and ankle, it was all red and swollen so we were worried about an infection. Turns out it was uric acid build up from being dehydrated and the kidneys not filtering out as much as they should. It makes me nervous...was this just a fluke thing or is something wrong with his kidney's now? Everything makes me panic. Panic is my new state of being, I guess. I jump when the phone rings, and each moment that I'm not with him I worry that I'm not spending enough time with him.
Once classes are done for the semester I think I'll start going over there more. Maybe with the oral chemo he'll have some more good days and we'll be able to travel or do something fun as a family.
Jana's coming up tomorrow so we can have an early Thanksgiving. Although it might not feel like it at times, we are blessed and have so much to give thanks for. It will be nice to be together even if it isn't the "actual" holiday. I think we should make our own holidays. Every day we spend as a family should be a holiday. A day to give thanks, a day to be greatful for the people and things in our lives that have made us who we are.
See you all tomorrow!

More Clarity

So my dad is going to be taking an oral chemo for 2 weeks, and then take a 1 week hiatus before going back to the doctor for a follow-up. My mom was telling me that the chemo pills come with a "starter pack" because the chemo will make the skin on my dad's hands and feet more fragile. So he'll have to be extra cautious of germs getting into the compromised area, but he get a tube of bag balm or utterly smooth or one of those super moisturizers.

He goes back to the doctor on Dec. 10.

Usually we travel to PA to see my in-laws at Thanksgiving. This year, we are spending it with my family, since we know it could be the "last" Thanksgiving with my dad. I will be spending it being thankful for the wonderful family and amazing supportive friends we have.

Well, Dang

So the last time my dad had chemo (2 weeks ago) he had been feeling extra tired and he and my mom talked to the doctor about it. The proceeded with the scheduled chemo, but planned on doing another CT scan at the next visit.

That was yesterday.

Chemo was scheduled for 930 this morning. My mom and dad meet with the doctor beforehand.

No chemo today, starting an oral chemo instead.

As it turns out, on the scan from yesterday, the larger tumor on the liver was a couple of cm larger than the last time. I honestly have no idea how the rest of the conversation went, because I zoned out while thoughts whirled and processed in my head. I think my dad said something about the smaller tumors, but I'm not sure. I heard something about heading back to my house to get the donuts he left...and that the port chemo seemed to not be working and they were switching to an oral chemo...

QT

I was really glad to have my sister bring my dad to Vermont for his treatments this time. I miss seeing her. It's never often enough. Somehow as adults, there are never enough hours in the week (or something comes up), and we are prevented from frequent visits. I just wish the reason why we are getting to see more of each other could be different.

Latest Scan

My dad had chemo today. He got the results from his latest CAT scan--one larger tumor is about the same and some smaller ones have shrunken. We'll take it. Doctor says since things seem to be working, they will continue with treatment as it is currently scheduled (chemo every 2 weeks). 

Every 2 weeks is much better than the 3 on, 1 off they were doing when he was in the drug study. We get more "good time" in between treatments.

It should be interesting. Daryl and I are going to France for a wedding in about 2 weeks. My dad will have another treatment the week before we leave. My mom is coming to watch our kids while we are away...9 days. My dad said he wants to put a ham radio antenna in our yard while he is here for that week (I guess he's decided he's coming with her). Um, yeah. I guess that's okay since we won't be here, but that thing had better be down and back in his car by the time I get home!!

Well, crap

This was a source of hope.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/gallery/2009/09/14/GA2009091403019.html

Plan B

My favorite mid-day phone calls are just never what you expect. My parents came over to Burlington Saturday late afternoon to spend the weekend prior to this morning's chemo appt. Dad had been a bit sleepy/lethargic and had a poor appetite this weekend. So when they showed up for chemo this morning, the doctor's decided not to give him he treatment. Apparently the pre-chemo blood work he had done Saturday show an elevated bilirubin count. With that and the behavior changes this weekend, the doctors think there may be an issue with the stent(s) again.

Plan B: spend the night with us again tonight to be available for surgery in the morning. They will do a general anesthetic so if they find what they think they may find, they can replace/re-stent the current stents. More waiting games.

This whole ordeal is so difficult to watch. I see my father fading away into a thin, lethargic, unrecognizable man. He puts on his mask so that no one really knows what is going on at times. I'm still not sure if that makes it harder on us or not. But my mom deserves a medal and a serious vacation for the stressful, scary, chaotic roller coaster she is on.