That title is more referencing the song “Portions for Foxes” by Rilo Kiley, which I love and was listening to a lot yesterday. But in all seriousness, we did get some bad news yesterday (although not totally surprising, either.)
J finally saw the lung specialist yesterday. In addition to the visit being physically painful, it also didn’t give great news.
His regular, horrible-sounding cough that he’s had since last February is related to his cancer, despite the fact that his oncologist previously said it wasn’t.
And I guess technically it’s not, as in it’s not lung cancer per se. But the lymph nodes in his lungs are cancerous. The treatment is likely going to be more of the same as what he’s been doing so far.
But I’ll be honest: he had a CT scan yesterday and the lymph nodes are still there. I don’t know if that means his treatment is not working because they didn’t compare the size of the lymph nodes to what they were before (at least not that I know of.)
And he’s only about halfway through the current round of chemo treatments until he gets more scans again because he missed a couple of treatments, so things could still change.
The doctor also said he may either be dealing with a recurrence of his childhood asthma or a new onset of COPD. If it’s COPD, that’s really scary.
I don’t really understand what it was about his surgery last February that enabled all this to happen. We know that his cancer had already started to grow back again but it didn’t cause any symptoms until that surgery. But he’s been miserable ever since the surgery and I for one don’t think it was worth it. (Not that I can change any of it now.)
But all I see right now is that he seems to be suffering a lot and that’s really hard for me. Obviously more so for him.
I still want to believe in miracles and that he’ll get one but it’s really hard to keep that faith.
Although my mood is already stabilizing again after just a few days back on antidepressants, it’s still not enough to make me feel like this isn’t really happening. Last night before I tried to fall asleep, I just cried and cried.
It’s so unfair that his life is ending up this way. On the one hand, I suspect that the future in this country is going to get a lot worse, and at least he won’t have to suffer through that.
But he’s also my person, my rock, my absolute best friend in the whole world. I don’t know how I’m going to get by without him—especially if things do get as bad as I fear. He always makes things feel okay, even when they’re really not.
This all just feels so grossly unfair in every way. He has suffered through so much and given so much of himself to try to make our lives better (mine in particular.)
I just don’t want him to die and I feel like it’s more of a certainty that he will. And I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.