This is a busy and stressful week for us.
Wash meets with his Oncologist, his Neurologist will check the MRI he's having tomorrow (again, barring any Insurance Fuckery) and at the end of the week he goes in for a follow up/diagnostic with his Radiologist- since not too many of GBM patients will make it two years out after 42 days of radiation to the brain, Wash needs to get checked. They will do some tests to make sure he is not showing signs of developing different cancers from the treatment (apparently Leukemia is common) and check his mental status.
Wash is pretty scared of this week. I don't blame him. I'm scared too. I want him to be "stable" still. I want another MRI where they tell us, "Nope, no new tumors!". Every time we go the odds grow more and more against us, but I still have to Hope.
I have seen what happens, what is to come for the End. I'm not ready to face that yet. Neither is he.
Sadly though, this testing week always sends him regressing. He is acting about 4-8 years old for the past few days. Very very distracted, just wants to play with toys or games, not interested in talking, reading, creating. He's Depressed and scared. I'm hoping if we have some good medical news this week it will help, I'm also going to talk to the Dr about adding on another Anti-Depressant for Wash. He does not have the high Quality of Life right now he deserves or can have. We're not rich at all, I barely can make ends meet each week let alone the month, but there are things we can both do for free to keep happy- he lately has just had no interest.
I feel like shit as I have not gotten around to writing all my Christmas thank-you notes yet. Dear Readers, they are coming. Wash takes my attention and priority first. I feel bad though still, I wish I had more time or more help.
We have had some good moments in the past few days, absolutely. But, when terminal cancer is literally your life, the day you find out just how sick or stable you are can be defining. And Wash has that day every 6-8 weeks. Mentally, that is a lot of stress.
As hard as it is, and some days I feel ready to give up myself, I want to keep writing. I want this record here after he is gone. I want to be able to really remember how the days were spent, how my emotions played, and I want to recall who my husband was. Not a perfect man, but entirely wonderfully, beautifully, human.
Sadly, even daily time in the garden in the back has not helped his mood.
I have to be the one to be Hopeful for the both of us.
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