Guest guest Posted February 19, 2004 Report Share Posted February 19, 2004 Mountains Bob and I went to the mountains and had lunch in an old hotel there. We had green beans, potatoes, fried chicken, rolls and pecan pie. The sky was clear and the weather was almost balmy for February. After lunch, he stayed in the hotel lounge while I wandered in and out of some gift shops. We were gone six hours. We had not been to the mountains in over two years. He was leary about being able to drive that far since his neuropathy has affected his legs, but it was okay. At home, he hit the bed and I went to the computer. Next Tuesday he is due back at the oncologist's for his monthly Aridia and to see what the doctor recommends that he do next. I keep hoping that he is in at least a semi-remission. I picked a fight with him this morning because he waited until then to gas up the car and get money from the ATM. This is a familar fight with us. He is a "wait till the last minute" and I am an early starter. Cancer changes nothing much...not really. We are the same people we married long ago. Love is bigger than our fights and fears. Our getting along one hundred per cent of the time is as possible as his cancer being cured. Why do I say that? Because there is little romance in spirituality but rather shocks and hard knocks over a long period of time. Mr. G. was right. Everything has to be paid for; nothing is given. I look back on the last year and realize how every month had its particular tortures for us. High-dose chemo, blood transfusions, months of the new drug and then one week on the drug that led to his having seizures. Zowie. Where do we go from here? It is either resuming the drug which gave him neuropathy or once again considering a stem cell transplant. I think that would kill me. In the meantime, I write and write and write. In the last analysis, we do what we do and never quite know why. Hitting the send button, for me, is like the analyst saying that the fifty-minute hour is up. Thanks for listening. Vicki Woodyard http://www.bobwoodyard.com Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted February 19, 2004 Report Share Posted February 19, 2004 I look back on the last year and realize how every month had its particular tortures for us. High-dose chemo, blood transfusions, months of the new drug and then one week on the drug that led to his having seizures. Zowie. Where do we go from here? It is either resuming the drug which gave him neuropathy or once again considering a stem cell transplant. I think that would kill me. In the meantime, I write and write and write. In the last analysis, we do what we do and never quite know why. Hitting the send button, for me, is like the analyst saying that the fifty-minute hour is up. Thanks for listening.Vicki Woodyard Dear Vicki: I had started to write this to you once before but stopped myself. But now, you ask... Where do we go from here? It is either resuming the drug which gave him neuropathy or once again considering a stem cell transplant. I think that would kill me. Reading your posts on the treatment takes me back to when my life was controlled by fertility treatments. My goal was to achieve life, while yours is to defeat death. Still the emotional roller coster associated with this process is much the same. When Bob is getting chemo, I cringe. A few weeks ago when you wrote to say that you were in between treatments, I sighed a sigh of relief. I was glad to know that you told him to hush, and that he told you that you snored. (and to hush :-) When people would suggest to me that I stop the treatments and adopt, I bristled at the thought. Failure, that would be failure. Then as God continued, unrelenting, to give and then take away, I finally took the time to stop and honestly examine why I had to be the one who produced the child. Once I got past the need to "perform" as a woman, I reached the stage where I could affirm that what I wanted was a child. If what I really wanted was a child, then why did I have to define how that child came to me? It was then that I began to explore adoption. Although I continued IVF, inside me the pressure was off because I had crossed a certain threshold in what I wanted rather than how I wanted it. I look back sometimes on the three years I spent in treatment and laugh, knowing that it was all an ongoing lesson. At the time, though, I was miserable, cried all of the time, and thought of nothing else, literally. There were no normal moments, because all of the hormones made me, well, crazy!!! I will not judge myself for what I did then as I know everything was and is exactly as it should be. I do not judge you either. Still, I ask you to consider whether Bob and you should go back into treatment at all right now. What is your goal, really? To defeat death, or to delay it? You can make the choice to spend the time left, whether it be 10 months or 10 years, as it comes, free of the agonizing treatments that seem to provide more misery than comfort. It seems that Bob is sick most of the time from the treatments anyway. Maybe you want to consider continuing that break for a little longer and see what happens. You and Bob deserve it. Love, Joyce PS I am told I snore too. I myself have never heard it :-) But, a few years back a woman who shared a room with me at a seminar declared that I snored like a "steamroller." I think I have stopped since then ;-) Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted February 19, 2004 Report Share Posted February 19, 2004 , "Lady Joyce" <shaantih@c...> wrote: > > > Dear Joyce, Thank you for your thoughtful post. There are some differences in our situations, you will admit. Bob has made all his own decisons regarding chemo; multiple myeloma demands active chemo when it is out of remission. I love him and will do whatever I can to support him....altho I have told him that a stem cell transplant would not be something I could get through. He may even decide to do it wihout my getting involved. Who knows? Life is like nothing I have ever known.... Love, Vicki Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted February 19, 2004 Report Share Posted February 19, 2004 Dear Vicki: Yes, there are many differences in our situations. I knew that even as I wrote it to you. I just wanted to give you a longer break. I know you know that I meant it mostly for that reason. I know nothing about the requirements of cancer treatmentSo, keep writing and I will keep listening. Love, Joyce Dear Joyce,Thank you for your thoughtful post. There are some differences in our situations, you will admit. Bob has made all his own decisons regarding chemo; multiple myeloma demands active chemo when it is out of remission. I love him and will do whatever I can to support him....altho I have told him that a stem cell transplant would not be something I could get through. He may even decide to do it wihout my getting involved. Who knows? Life is like nothing I have ever known....Love, Vicki/join "Love itself is the actual form of God."Sri RamanaIn "Letters from Sri Ramanasramam" by Suri Nagamma Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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