How I spent my Christmas vacation.
Jan. 3rd, 2005 02:27 pmWe spent the Christmas holidays in Memphis this year, with
curiousangel's father. We were down there for a week, which is a long time to be in Memphis. But we stayed that long for good reasons.
Michael's father has non-small cell lung cancer.
He was diagnosed in September. Stage III-B, as far as we can figure: when they found the cancer, it had spread as far as a lymph node in his neck, but hadn't metastasized to other organs or to the bone. It's inoperable. He spent the fall going through a grueling and painful course of chemotherapy, which was abruptly stopped in the beginning of December when it became clear that the tumor sites weren't shrinking. Now he's started a six-week course of radiation therapy.
Lung cancer is never a good diagnosis. Stage III-B is never a good stage. Not responding to chemo is never a good sign. At best, the 5-year survival rate for Stage III lung cancer is less than 10%. Median survival time, depending on treatment, is about 8-18 months.
At this point, we're fairly confident that he will live to see his first grandchild, but we're not really making any plans beyond that.
Spending Christmas together was nice. He's recovered from the horrible effects of chemo, but the radiation side effects haven't kicked in yet. So he's got some of his energy back. He was able to enjoy our visit - he cooked steaks for us on the grill when the weather warmed up, showed a lot of interest in the baby, advised us about life insurance, told stories about Michael's infancy. At the same time, he's obviously, and understandably, terrified. And the chemo left deep emotional scars: he kept almost compulsively telling us how bad it had been, the same stories over and over.
He talked more than usual about Michael's mother, who died of cancer in 1998.
It's frustrating, being this far away. It's even more frustrating to know that there's going to be, probably, a three-month period between when the midwife says I have to stop flying and when the baby and I are well enough to make the long trip to Memphis. I want to help. I want to be able to rush there on a moment's notice if he needs us, if Michael needs to see him, if something changes, and instead I'm pinned here by my belly.
But however hard it is for me, of course it's a thousand times harder for Michael. I'm doing what I can to support him, but honestly, there's not much that can be done. It's just going to be hard and awful.
I haven't posted about this before because I kept thinking that it was Michael's news. But he hasn't been inclined to post about it, and it's also my news. We're going to need the support of our friends.
Michael's father has non-small cell lung cancer.
He was diagnosed in September. Stage III-B, as far as we can figure: when they found the cancer, it had spread as far as a lymph node in his neck, but hadn't metastasized to other organs or to the bone. It's inoperable. He spent the fall going through a grueling and painful course of chemotherapy, which was abruptly stopped in the beginning of December when it became clear that the tumor sites weren't shrinking. Now he's started a six-week course of radiation therapy.
Lung cancer is never a good diagnosis. Stage III-B is never a good stage. Not responding to chemo is never a good sign. At best, the 5-year survival rate for Stage III lung cancer is less than 10%. Median survival time, depending on treatment, is about 8-18 months.
At this point, we're fairly confident that he will live to see his first grandchild, but we're not really making any plans beyond that.
Spending Christmas together was nice. He's recovered from the horrible effects of chemo, but the radiation side effects haven't kicked in yet. So he's got some of his energy back. He was able to enjoy our visit - he cooked steaks for us on the grill when the weather warmed up, showed a lot of interest in the baby, advised us about life insurance, told stories about Michael's infancy. At the same time, he's obviously, and understandably, terrified. And the chemo left deep emotional scars: he kept almost compulsively telling us how bad it had been, the same stories over and over.
He talked more than usual about Michael's mother, who died of cancer in 1998.
It's frustrating, being this far away. It's even more frustrating to know that there's going to be, probably, a three-month period between when the midwife says I have to stop flying and when the baby and I are well enough to make the long trip to Memphis. I want to help. I want to be able to rush there on a moment's notice if he needs us, if Michael needs to see him, if something changes, and instead I'm pinned here by my belly.
But however hard it is for me, of course it's a thousand times harder for Michael. I'm doing what I can to support him, but honestly, there's not much that can be done. It's just going to be hard and awful.
I haven't posted about this before because I kept thinking that it was Michael's news. But he hasn't been inclined to post about it, and it's also my news. We're going to need the support of our friends.
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Date: 2005-01-03 08:07 pm (UTC)*hugs*
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Date: 2005-01-03 08:08 pm (UTC)-J
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Date: 2005-01-03 08:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-03 08:10 pm (UTC)You have my support. (I feel like that guy on the Bartles and James commercials.)
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Date: 2005-01-03 08:17 pm (UTC)It sucks that he's in Memphis, because that makes it pretty much impossible to grab a train (my father lives in Oak Ridge, looking at trains we discovered he lives in a black hole, so far as Amtrak is concerned).
I'm sorry. We all know it's coming, but the timing sucks.
My mother's dad died of lng cancer, when I was about 3. I don't remember him, not to speak of. But that (in the realm of cold comfort) probably won't bother the L'il Critter too much, because she won't miss what she never knew.
So I hope he makes it for a good couple of years so you can rememeber how he got to enjoy her company.
I'm sorry.
TK
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Date: 2005-01-03 08:19 pm (UTC)You, and Michael, and Michael's father, are in my thoughts. Even if all I can do is listen sympathetically, I'll do that to the best of my ability.
*hugs* all around.
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Date: 2005-01-03 08:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-03 08:37 pm (UTC)I am so sorry.
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Date: 2005-01-03 08:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-03 09:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-03 09:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-03 09:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-03 09:13 pm (UTC)You will definitely be in my thoughts, as will Michael's father. If there is anything more pragmatic I can do to help, please let me know.
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Date: 2005-01-03 09:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-03 09:28 pm (UTC)I am so sorry to hear about your father in law and send my most heartfelt Good Thoughts to you all. Tell Michael we are thinking of him. If there is anything I can do for either of you please don't hesitate to let me know.
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Date: 2005-01-03 09:33 pm (UTC)I know this is hard for both of you and if there's anything I can do, from listening to helping you out if Michael has to leave town, let me know.
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Date: 2005-01-03 10:07 pm (UTC)This is very hard. I'm so sorry. That's an awful lot to be dealing with.
I'll be thinking about you.
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Date: 2005-01-03 10:11 pm (UTC)I was thinking that probably six weeks would be about right - after the 6-week postpartum checkup - although of course if it looks like we're running out of time we can agitate for earlier clearance. Right now there's no reason to suspect that things will go south that fast, I'm just fretting about possibilities.
My midwife has grounded me from 34 weeks on, and even that might be cutting it close given my family history of early delivery. (My sister's first baby was born at 35 weeks, my mother's first baby at 34.)
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Date: 2005-01-03 10:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-03 11:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-03 11:29 pm (UTC)For what it's worth, I flew with my firstborn one month after he was born.
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Date: 2005-01-04 12:44 am (UTC)Anyway you could plan it so he could come to you, instead of you going there?
Just an idea, since most of our relatives came to see *us* when I delivered Nick and then Matt. It's much easier for one adult to travel, then for two adults to travel with a baby (and all the gear).
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Date: 2005-01-04 01:07 am (UTC)You know, that's actually the way that he's planning it. But he hasn't had the full effects of his radiation therapy kick in yet. The baby probably won't be born until a month or so after he stops radiation, but even so... we just don't want to count on him being well enough to fly up here.
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Date: 2005-01-04 01:15 am (UTC)It's really hard to come up against the sheer physical impossibility of protecting everyone we love.
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Date: 2005-01-04 01:15 am (UTC)My dad died of colon/abdominal cancer eight years ago. This is a fucking club I don't want anyone else to join. I'm sorry.