Almost to the First Peak

This week, Phillip underwent chemo #11 of 12. It's incredible to think that it's been over 22 weeks of this new chapter in life. We continue with our routine, some days feel like a haze or an alternate reality, while others are filled with beautiful moments of joy. As Andrea Gibson aptly put it, "I have lived so much longer in the last six months."

Phillip had an extra week in between chemo #10 and #11 to go deer hunting. This was a welcome break for his body to heal after his hemoglobin plummeted. Even though the hunting trip was two days after his hospital discharge, I knew it was still going to happen because Phillip refuses to let cancer get in the way of his plans. Whether for better or worse, the hunting trip was unsuccessful. But just minutes after he returned home, a buck appeared in our backyard. The irony was perfect. Perhaps the deer was mocking him, or it was the universe's way of reminding him that everything he needs might be right at home.

During his extra week break, he was able to chaperone Lenie's school field trip to the Science Museum, and he even joined us at Dave's Town Club for "steak night" last Thursday. This glimmer of normalcy is such a tease and caused mental whiplash as we headed to the clinic for his chemo this week.

While we sat in the clinic room on Monday, I mentioned to him that I couldn't shake the thought that perhaps today they would come in and tell us there was a terrible mistake and it wasn't actually cancer. He replied, "Kell, I've already gone through that phase and realized it would mean a lot of people got it wrong. But wow - you bounce around in your grief like a pinball; I never know which phase you'll be in each day." We both had a good laugh about my non-linear grief process and that I am finally keeping him on his toes for once.

As we waited, we began placing bets on his hemoglobin count from the morning's blood draw. When he left the hospital, it was stable at 7.5. His energy had improved, particularly after an additional week off chemo. I had guessed a 6 and Phillip was thinking it would be closer to a 7. To our surprise, the nurse practitioner informed us his hemoglobin was 9! This was excellent news, indicating that his internal bleeding was under control and his bone marrow was catching up.

Chemo #12 will happen at the beginning of December and then "maintenance mode" will begin. This means the heavy hitting chemo drugs that are infused at the clinic will be tapered off and he will only go into the clinic every two weeks to have his chemo pump connected for a couple of days with a cocktail named 5/FU. No pun intended. The timing is ideal since the harsh chemotherapy drug, Oxaliplatin, has caused Phillip to develop cold sensitivity, making Minnesota's temperatures more difficult to endure. We hope that the neuropathy and cold sensitivity will decrease, allowing Phillip to feel better during the holiday season and the harsh winter months. I understand that "maintenance mode" is essential to prevent chemo toxicity, but it also brings anxiety about the possibility of progression. Phillip keeps reminding me to have patience in the process and not to look at the whole mountain, but just the peak in front of you. I am actively working to reshape my mindset and just focus on the day. This is easier said than done. The unknown has become a haunting presence in the day-to-day and I doubt any seance or sage can eradicate this unwelcome energy.

Yesterday, even though it was Phillip's second day of chemotherapy, he found the strength to go out to dinner to celebrate some exciting news related to my work. When I was putting Lenie to bed last night, she asked what the news meant, and I explained that it would make life a bit easier. Her immediate reaction was, "So does that mean we can take better care of Daddy?" Yes, sweet girl. Her big heart and innocence are so raw and I am going to hold on to that for as long as I can.

Our sweet Emalene Rae turns 8 on Thanksgiving Day and she is so excited everyone is getting together to celebrate her next Thursday (wink wink).

As we gather to celebrate Lenie on her special day, we are also thankful for everyone who is here with us. We appreciate all the prayers, thoughts and energy that have been sent into the universe since this began in May.