It has been a little discouraging in our fight against cancer. After my husband came through his surgery to remove a kidney that had a large tumor on it, he swore he was going to change his life and take better care of himself.
At his last urologist appointment, we learned that he had high uric acid and as a result needs to lose 20 pounds to keep his one remaining kidney healthy.
To his credit, he has cut back on meat a lot. He also has been good about staying on top of his health in other regards. Yesterday he had a routine colonoscopy. There are some people who avoid doing this, but he has been good about it. This was his second one that he was due for. It had actually been scheduled last spring, before my husband had his kidney removed. Now he has healed enough from that major surgery to have been able to go ahead with the colonoscopy.
Thankfully, no cancer discoveries but two polops removed. They are sent to the lab to make sure they are not "pre-cancerous" (chemically prone to be at a higher risk to turn into cancer should he get such polops in the future). We were disappointed that it hadn't been a procedure with no discoveries, but glad that no malignant tumors were found.
After one gets this procedure, there is a designated driver (in this case me) to take the patient home. Well, as we were driving away, my husband got the message on his cell phone that his elderly father had fallen at the nursing home and was actually in the hospital emergency room across the street from where we were. So we went right over. I didn't like my husband who was weak from hunger (hadn't eaten in two days) and woozy from what he had just been through to be exposed to so much stress. Then, on top of that, just as I parked the car in the lot of the emergency room we got another phone call. Our teenage son was sick at school and needed to be picked up.
We just looked at each other, my husband and me. What do you do when your elderly father needs you at the same time your child needs you and at the same time you yourself has just been through something that you're supposed to rest up from?
In that one moment in time, it was apparant at least in some small measure what had contributed to my husband's cancer. The stress of too many people needing us at the same time, leaving no time to take care of ourselves.
My husband still needs to lose weight. At least the fasting before the colonoscopy was helpful in this effort! But he still needs to lose about 15 or so pounds. I have had his gym bag out in front of his closet for the past few days to remind him of this need. But everyday has brought a new monkey wrench in the attempt to go to the gym.
The colonoscopy was yesterday.
Today he is out of town on a business trip.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
The Dark Discovery
This blog is for all the families that are living and struggling with cancer. It chronicles my own experience as the wife of someone with cancer, as the mother of three children who are too young to have to experience any of this but who must gradually and all of us collectively come to terms with what we are dealing with...
Cancer.
When you hear it from a doctor's mouth, you know what sheer horror feels like.
Cancer.
When you announce to your loved ones you have it you know what utter despair feels like.
You hold your family close, you don't want to say goodbye. Everyone feels helpless and grief-stricken.
"Cancer..." we told our eldest, our teenage son. He was speechless.
"Cancer..." we told our middle child who is our 'tween'. She cried.
"A sick kidney" was all we told our youngest, who is eight years old. She wouldn't understand what cancer means anyway.
Even for us adults cancer is hard to understand.
How long had the tumor on his kidney been there? Professional guesses, but we'll never know for sure.
Where did it come from? I lost my mother to lung cancer eight years ago, we knew her disease was due to decades of smoking. But with kidney cancer, we'll never know.
In further conversations with the doctor and with specialists, you learn about this world called cancer. There are islands and continents with all different climates for each depending upon which one you stand.
With my mother's lung cancer, which from diagnosis to death was a period of eleven months, I became familiar with the terraine upon the continent of her disease.
Then last spring when the doctor told my husband he has kidney cancer--I felt my world crumble as I crashed back onto that desolate continental wasteland named cancer.
However, this time around it was a little different. My mother's had been inoperable. My husband's was operable. This was an island with a vegetation of hope.
Two weeks after hearing the dreaded diagnosis, my husband was under the knife to have the entire diseased kidney removed.
The surgery took longer than expected. I knew that this was not a good sign.
Turned out his tumor was bigger than thought by about a centimeter. I was not exactly sure of the implications of a larger than expected tumor, but I remained hopeful--they believed they got it all and to the eyeball the surrounding areas looked good.
Within a few days we had received the best news we could have possibley gotten. The pathology report was clean! We really felt like we had conquered this disease and we shared the good news with everyone.
My husband had a tough time recovering. He had this condition called Illius where his digestive system was not working properly. This man who always loved food now had no appetite. He stayed in the hospital for almost two weeks before he could finally eat enough and digest well enough to come home. He had lost a remarkable 20 lbs.
Recovery took many weeks. But by mid-summer we were pretty much back to our regular lives. Eerily, it actually seemed like it had all just been a bad dream and that none of it had ever really happened. I considered ourselves very blessed and felt completely confident as I looked to the future.
But with cancer it's not that easy.
My husband had his first catscan post-op a couple of weeks ago and last week we got the results. Not what we had been anticipating.
The doctor first started with the fact that my husband's uric acid was too high. With just one remaining kidney, this was especially concerning. He could control it through drugs or diet, my husband chose diet. He has to lose twenty pounds...
Well, as worrisome as that is it is not the most serious issue.
The catscan had shown two "abnormalities". There was a shadowy image the doctor hoped and believed was the bowel. While one might be surprised that a urologist couldn't tell about something that seemingly simple, fact is that during my husband's long surgery all the organs in the way of getting to the kidney had to be scooped up and placed aside (this is what caused the onset of the Illius digestive problem afterwards). The organs were put back, but with the space of a missing kidney things setttled a little differently. So the shadowy image could very well be the bowel...
The second abnormality and I think the scariest is an enlarged lymphnode near (although not right next to) the area of the kidney. This could, the doctor explained, be due to the area is still healing. After all, my husband's large scar is still very red and swollen-looking. Or this could be tumorous.
The catscan is to be repeated after Christmas.
We have not told our children anything about these latest developments other than his uric acid being high and his need to lose twenty pounds. I did, though, ask my son to let Dad wear his cross (which was originally mine and has protected me since I was a child).
This blog will follow the journey of our family life with cancer. I invite anyone who is in a similar situation to feel free to comment. Perhaps this can serve like a support group. I hope my next posting is good news.
Cancer.
When you hear it from a doctor's mouth, you know what sheer horror feels like.
Cancer.
When you announce to your loved ones you have it you know what utter despair feels like.
You hold your family close, you don't want to say goodbye. Everyone feels helpless and grief-stricken.
"Cancer..." we told our eldest, our teenage son. He was speechless.
"Cancer..." we told our middle child who is our 'tween'. She cried.
"A sick kidney" was all we told our youngest, who is eight years old. She wouldn't understand what cancer means anyway.
Even for us adults cancer is hard to understand.
How long had the tumor on his kidney been there? Professional guesses, but we'll never know for sure.
Where did it come from? I lost my mother to lung cancer eight years ago, we knew her disease was due to decades of smoking. But with kidney cancer, we'll never know.
In further conversations with the doctor and with specialists, you learn about this world called cancer. There are islands and continents with all different climates for each depending upon which one you stand.
With my mother's lung cancer, which from diagnosis to death was a period of eleven months, I became familiar with the terraine upon the continent of her disease.
Then last spring when the doctor told my husband he has kidney cancer--I felt my world crumble as I crashed back onto that desolate continental wasteland named cancer.
However, this time around it was a little different. My mother's had been inoperable. My husband's was operable. This was an island with a vegetation of hope.
Two weeks after hearing the dreaded diagnosis, my husband was under the knife to have the entire diseased kidney removed.
The surgery took longer than expected. I knew that this was not a good sign.
Turned out his tumor was bigger than thought by about a centimeter. I was not exactly sure of the implications of a larger than expected tumor, but I remained hopeful--they believed they got it all and to the eyeball the surrounding areas looked good.
Within a few days we had received the best news we could have possibley gotten. The pathology report was clean! We really felt like we had conquered this disease and we shared the good news with everyone.
My husband had a tough time recovering. He had this condition called Illius where his digestive system was not working properly. This man who always loved food now had no appetite. He stayed in the hospital for almost two weeks before he could finally eat enough and digest well enough to come home. He had lost a remarkable 20 lbs.
Recovery took many weeks. But by mid-summer we were pretty much back to our regular lives. Eerily, it actually seemed like it had all just been a bad dream and that none of it had ever really happened. I considered ourselves very blessed and felt completely confident as I looked to the future.
But with cancer it's not that easy.
My husband had his first catscan post-op a couple of weeks ago and last week we got the results. Not what we had been anticipating.
The doctor first started with the fact that my husband's uric acid was too high. With just one remaining kidney, this was especially concerning. He could control it through drugs or diet, my husband chose diet. He has to lose twenty pounds...
Well, as worrisome as that is it is not the most serious issue.
The catscan had shown two "abnormalities". There was a shadowy image the doctor hoped and believed was the bowel. While one might be surprised that a urologist couldn't tell about something that seemingly simple, fact is that during my husband's long surgery all the organs in the way of getting to the kidney had to be scooped up and placed aside (this is what caused the onset of the Illius digestive problem afterwards). The organs were put back, but with the space of a missing kidney things setttled a little differently. So the shadowy image could very well be the bowel...
The second abnormality and I think the scariest is an enlarged lymphnode near (although not right next to) the area of the kidney. This could, the doctor explained, be due to the area is still healing. After all, my husband's large scar is still very red and swollen-looking. Or this could be tumorous.
The catscan is to be repeated after Christmas.
We have not told our children anything about these latest developments other than his uric acid being high and his need to lose twenty pounds. I did, though, ask my son to let Dad wear his cross (which was originally mine and has protected me since I was a child).
This blog will follow the journey of our family life with cancer. I invite anyone who is in a similar situation to feel free to comment. Perhaps this can serve like a support group. I hope my next posting is good news.
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