Weeks or months

That’s essentially what I’m waiting to find out. J will finally get the results from the cytology lab tomorrow of the lung fluid they drained from his lungs.

Although I should really know better than to put my medical research skills to use, I couldn’t help it.

If the fluid is malignant, the median survival rate is four months.

Of course, Dyl has the extremely difficult decision to make about whether to go back to school next month. J may indeed last longer than that, in which case Dyl would be glad to have gotten another semester under his belt. But there’s absolutely no way to predict how long J will be here. I don’t envy his decision at all and I feel like that’s an awfully heavy choice to make when you’re just 19.

I’m actually going to wake up really fucking early to go with J to see his oncologist on Monday (assuming he does have MPE; I’m not sure if I’ll go if he doesn’t have MPE.)

If it’s not malignant, he may have longer. But now that it’s metastasized to his spine, I don’t think it will be much longer than a year. I’m unfortunately now prepared that I could lose him at any moment.

Apparently his hospitalist called his oncologist yesterday and brought him up to speed. His oncologist is still moving ahead with plans for more chemo, saying that he’s hopeful that a drug that my husband will get called Neulasta will enable him to get treatments more frequently by not causing his immune system to bottom out.

But I’m not sure that’s really the best course of action—especially if J has MPE. If he has MPE, everything I have read says that the focus should be on palliative care and keeping him comfortable. I understand that an oncologist wants to keep patients on chemo—not for any nefarious reasons but just because they believe in it so much and don’t want to give up.

Mostly, I just want to see J stop suffering. I don’t want to remember him like this. I want to remember him how he was even just a few months ago, when we could do dumb stuff like laugh at stupid shows together and have occasional conversations about politics. He’s not really like that anymore; he’s just suffering.

I am starting to think that his oncologist would just keep him on chemo until the day my husband dies. And I want my husband to have some days again that are moderately free of pain.

My mother-in-law, J’s stepdad, his sister, and her husband are going to be coming to visit us in the next few weeks. I’m really glad that they’re coming.

But I’m also just a bit stressed out, too, because my office, bedroom, and bathroom are really unacceptably messy. I’m sure no one expects perfection but it’s really to the point where I think nobody could overlook that.

I’ve known that I had to clean them for a few months and I just haven’t gotten around to it yet. I don’t know if it was a matter of not having enough spoons to do it or if I was just depressed. But now I really do have to do something about it and soon.

I guess it will be good to have something to distract me. But Chloe has also noticed that I keep taking on more and more to do, like I’m afraid of having free time. And maybe she’s right; if I have free time, I just think about the fact that I’m going to lose J and that makes me feel so helpless and hopeless.

I know that I’ll ultimately be okay once J’s gone, in the sense that I will be able to move on somehow. But I really don’t want to.

I finally broke down and cried yesterday when I saw him. I guess everything I’ve been bottling up inside finally bubbled out.

I just can’t believe that we’re already planning our final goodbyes. My parents are going to see if they can come down, too.

It really, really shouldn’t ever have to be this way.

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