What A Week

We had a second opinion last Friday. The second doctor agreed with the first doctor and said that time is of the essence. 

On Monday we regrouped with our first oncologist. I mentioned some symptoms mrguy was having and the doctor said “How do you feel about going to the ER?” and we said “We’re not into that idea” and he said “I’m thinking out loud here, but if I admitted you tomorrow you’d have a guaranteed bed, no ER, we could check to see if you have any infections and maybe you could start chemo as early as Wednesday”. That sounded awesome, so that’s what happened (except it was Thursday that the chemo started). We just got home from the hospital, and mrguy has had his first chemo, which lasted 48 hours. No lie.

Backing up to Monday, this was all predicated on our getting labs on Monday. We were having this conversation at 4:16 and the lab was 20 minutes away and closed at 5. We made it with 10 minutes to spare. Then we got to the hospital the next day and they didn't seem to have any of the information about mrguy, and that was super frustrating. Plus the guy in the next bed was kinda gang-y, a bit loud, and partially undressed cause he was about to use the shower, where he listened to the radio really loudly. The Stroke, by Billy Squier was playing "Stroke me, stroke me!!" Ohmahgawrd.

But since they thought mrguy was possibly contagious, they moved him to a single. They offered to make me a bed, but until they knew otherwise, if I was going to stay over I'd have to sleep in PPE. No thank you. So I stayed home, worked from here, and held down the fort.

A sweet friend sent us yellow tulips. I'm looking at them right now and they are beautiful. Another friend came to give me a walk. Clam came over and we didn't watch sumo but gabbed for two hours, which is not like us and was super great. Our "helicopter relative" checked in from Kona. I can't do what I'm doing without the support of these amazing friends.

In the meantime, nothing seemed to be happening. I couldn't figure out whether the doctors in the hospital had all of the information that they needed to treat him. The clinic and the hospital have two different user interfaces under one roof, so to speak. And I could communicate with the clinic and our oncologist but they weren't in charge once mrguy was in the hospital. Our nurse navigator on the clinical team was out on Weds. Her colleague told me to talk to the doctor in the hospital but didn't tell me how to do that. Thanks, Lady.

As I left the hospital on Tuesday I asked the nurse at the nurse's station for the direct number. She wrote it on a post-it. And that was the key. In the hospital you call the nurse's station like it's ER on NBC in the 1990s, and they call the doctor for you. Who knew? I thought I would lose my mind, and it was the first time that mrguy said he felt depressed. Why had we admitted him? But by the end of the day we had an appt for chemo in the hospital and the schedule for all of his future medical appointments appeared in the calendar.

A banner day. So on Thursday he started his chemo, which took a whopping 48 hours, which I thought was a typo when I read it...but was not. 

Yesterday I started pestering the clinic again. Were his biomarker tests in? Without good biomarkers that say that there are additional drugs that can targed the cancer, we are S.O.L. The report came back, and I gave it to our oncology nurse at the insurance agency and she said it looks like we have options. These are things that we would use on top of the chemo. The official word is whatever the doctor says, so we are keeping our fingers crossed. Or at least I am. Mrguy's just trying to get through the day.

Today was cleanup day in preparation for mrguy's homecoming. Did a big shop at the supermarket, during which time I had a panic attack. Came home and moved the cat box out of the bedroom and into the laundry room so it can be farther from our patient. Then I vacuumed the first floor of the house and catproofed the laundry room.

On the ride to the hospital (1.5 hours each way) I started to have a panic attack. So I called some friends and had a long chat during our drive, which was super helpful. I don't think I would have made it if they hadn't picked up when I rang.

Eventually, I got to the hospital and Tiger Brown and I picked him up. He later said that he wished his eyes were cameras because I was so cute with my leopard print umbrella, standing outside the car waiting for him. Sweet man.

He was doing everything he could to not barf on the way home but things being what they are, we had to stop by the side of the road near the airport so he could get it out of his system. Luckily I had some soft t-shirts in the back seat so he could wipe his face and some water in the front for him to drink. It was "our" exit, since the first time he and I visited my parents alone we had to stop in the same spot for *me* to puke, which is a story for another day.