Appointment with the oncologist today. Blood was drawn yesterday for tumor markers. We need a merry Christmas present in a big way. If this treatment isn't working, our options are limited.
I'm edgy. Sure, we could get good news today, and I hope we do. But we could get bad news. As this appointment has drawn closer and my understanding of that has deepened, I've become increasingly fearful. While I've had an intellectual understanding that GH might not meet the twins, it's taken until today for it to really hit me.
For now, keeping fingers crossed. All the good luck charms we own are in our chemo bag. We need them.
In other news, I've found a few blogs maintained by women around my age whose husbands have/had cancer. Actually, all had at this point. All of been widowed. All write very eloquently about how that feels. It is helpful, albeit morbid, of me to see that despite their wounds, they have found a way to go on in life, even if emotionally they are barely getting by. All three have kids, some young. Just knowing that other people survive on the other side has been important to me lately.
All three also muse about how hard it is in this (American) society to talk about death. It's too scary. But when mortality is in your face every day, it's also too important a topic to be ignored.
My posts lately have been very doom and gloom. I think that's direcly tied to two things: 1. With the twins on the way, my fears of GH dying have intensified dramatically; 2. I can't talk about the doom and gloom stuff anywhere else. No one can take it. When I try, (most) people say stupid shit like, "Be positive. Look on the bright side. Focus on the good things." So I dump it here and leave it and at least it gets out.
Also, it's 5°F outside. Fuck you, winter.