The Man Report

Things are good. The road has been rough.

Earlier in the week, after weeks of chemo and radiation, mrguy looked unbelievably frail. He was awake for a few hours of the day. He could only rally for his Monday dj session. He was living on yogurt, and I felt like I needed to intervene. He'd get up to drink three 530 calorie Boosts a day. I would make food and eat it myself. Both of us were super depressed. I had my work life, which was incredibly intense, and then I'd step out of a meeting about crazy work stuff to get advice on what I should do for mrguy, or what to expect.

When I talk to our oncology nurse navigator, who is provided by our insurance plan, I realize why it's so hard to retire. We can't continue to work with her unless I stay at the forklift factory, because Cigna doesn't work with individuals. And she is the most calming influence I have. For two and a half years, she has guided us through cancer, and we wish she was our mom. Anyhoo, she suggested that mrguy take his nausea meds a different way. Then I suggested to him that he go back to his old plan that worked so well. He kinda gave me a "Hell no" on that, saying that the original plan required him to get up at 3am to take one of the meds. He said he'd just stop Compazine entirely.

Unlike most stories in which a person goes cold turkey and then has something awful happen, he woke up the next day and was a completely different person. The spark of life had returned, Lazarus-like. He stopped sleeping 6 hours in the middle of the day, and occasionally cruising like a toddler who steadies himself on the furniture while walking. He's super thin, but last night all he could think about (insomnia hasn't changed) was driving to the town where he went to college, visiting a particular bagel shop, burrito shop and donut store. His description of the chile relleno burrito has my stomach rumbling. And we are SO going to do this.

I can't tell you what a relief this is. He's been suffering for weeks and weeks and now we see a bit of a light in the distance. Maybe, just maybe, we've made it through this tough stretch.

I'll take it.