This is what last Monday looked like. Let's not forget the car ride and traffic to get to the city. We waited in the waiting room and then waited in the room a bit longer. How can doctors get an hour behind in their schedule when your appointment is at 10:00 a.m.? Waiting, waiting, waiting, anxiety, hurry up and wait. But these appointments are a necessary evil when you have cancer. Mom just celebrated one year post stem cell transplant. In the words of her good looking doctor, "This is disappointing, but not surprising as you did not achieve full remission with the transplant."
For a few months now the levels and numbers and all things monitored have been moving and changing. "I don't like this trend, " said the doctor. "Nor do I," said the patient. "Not cool, " said the daughter. But let's not get ahead of ourselves with worry and doubt and anxiety. Let's break down the specifics of what we know and work with that.
Since Mom's transplant she has been receiving a small dose of a lovely little cocktail mixed with a cancer drug and steroid. (such a good mix!) It was a low dose once a month. That ain't doing the trick anymore. So she will now get a weekly injection (vs. an I.V.) some steroids and some anti-nausea meds. It seemed daunting to be "chained to home" for four months, but the first treatment proved to be "not as big of a deal as it seemed." We are always our worst enemies in terms of working ourselves up, looking too far ahead and making mountains out of mole holes. (cancer mole holes suck!)
The first time I entered this waiting area I was impressed. So "fine hotel like" and filled with helpful people to answer your questions and get you water or coffee. Fast forward one plus years, and it is like any other waiting room in any other doctors office. Now I look around and wonder who is sick, who is here for the first time, heart beating faster, awaiting one's fate. Waiting to hear the words out loud. The life changing words that set your axis spinning.
We had a good visit and waited some more to get some blood tests done. In 4-6 weeks the doc will determine if this cocktail is knocking down the disease. Knocking the shit out of it and putting it to rest for good. That is our goal. When you have a chronic disease you can never rest on your laurels. You can forget all you want, but it will knock on your door when you least expect it and say, "Hello again, remember me?"
SOLDIER ON MAMA....
We got this. You have hair again and for all that we've already done this ain't no big thing. We are in it to win it. There are trips to be taken, plane rides and car rides and grandchildren to hug.....lunches and coffee with friends, cocktails and laughter to be had. Basically "screw you multiple myeloma." Somebody has a whole hell of a lot of life left to be lived. You can knock on this door all you want, but you ain't gettin' in.
Love you Mom. Love you Sis. Our team soldiers on.....It's all we know how to do. The three of us together can do just about anything.