Last Day of Chemo

We went to the hospital today for J's last day of chemo before surgery. We have been looking forward this day for so long, but last night was so bad, I could barely get him there this morning. He just had no strength to want to go. He was terribly nauseous and physically weakened. Once we made it there, they pumped him with fluids, potassium, and anti nausea drugs. It took two and half hours for it to all flow in, and he got some deep cat naps during that time. My mom asked if getting the fluids made him better, and I said, "I wouldn't say 'better'. It is like he is usually -1, and today he was -4, but the fluids brought him back to -1. I would define 'better' as at least zero or in the positive numbers." But, I am hoping that after the three rounds of fluids, it will help get his body over the hump and into the positives.

Our pain specialist, words cannot describe how much he is doing for us, has been talking with all the doctors about J. He finally got one of the nurse practitioners in the oncology office to really understand what we are going through. She was incredible today, to say the least. She even called us this evening to check up on J. She sent us home with some new meds to help combat the discomforts, and a list of instructions detailing how to use them effectively. She spent so much time with us just figuring out what J needed at this point. Our pain doctor told J, "You have about reached the limitation of human endurance." He also told the nurse practitioner that J is a patient that is most likely underreporting how bad it really is. I was just weepy during our meeting just because I was so glad he is on our side fighting for J. One of the doctors was worried about the amount of pain meds J is taking right now, and how it will affect him post surgery, and our pain doctor replied regarding the post surgery time, "I will be there." It just made me instantly weep realizing J's quality of life is so important to him, and he is with us to the end of this.

So, we go back tomorrow for more fluids to be pumped into him, again on Monday and his last "booster that day as well. And, I think I was correct...J seemed to feel like they were just zapping the hell out of him in these last booster treatments. He said the zapping was three times as long. We also saw it noticeably affected his body last night with the start of the boosters....just seemed to drain him completely. But, again...we still don't know if it is that or just his months of no sleep, no nutrients or whatever. Last night, as he was laying on the bathroom floor he said, "Nobody knows what's wrong...and nobody can help me." Last night and today was so hard, but with our two appointments, we feel like his care is really being "stepped up" to meet us where we are at. I just feel like we have been so alone in this, but now we have two more people on board who "get it" and can make a difference in our care. I was thinking about the polar bears in the documentary "The Inconvenient Truth" who are drowning in the arctic. The icy land masses are melting so fast, they end of drowning because they can't swim that far and have no resting place. There was a picture of a polar bear trying to crawl up on a piece of floating ice, but it broke in half, and he was forced to stay in in the miles of water surrounding him. We have definitely felt that way. Like the land, our rest, is so far in the distance, and every time we see a glimpse of salvation, it breaks beneath our feet. I know we won't drown, but we feel exhausted to keep swimming at times. But, today we felt like we found a resting place in view with the help we received. Hopefully, the paddle won't be too long.