Personal Journal

Bad

I talked to Jean's oncologist today. Jean was deeply sleeping, so it was just him and me for a change. I asked him if it was likely that the tumor was re-growing.
He said it was likely the cause of these episodes.
He said it was time to look into alternative (i.e. last measure) treatments.
I asked him what rate of deterioration Jean and I could expect if her tumor was re-growing. He took me out of the room into the hallway.
He said very rapid. He said it could be as short as a matter of a few weeks, or as long as a few months.
My denial mechanism failed me, but my strength mostly remained and I held in my tears. Until he was done talking to me. Then I got to the end of the hallway to the observation room overlooking the city as quickly as I could, trying not to bawl too uncontrollably till I got there.
I said I was sorry to a 70-something year old woman, a patient, who was trying to enjoy the view, because I was bawling. She left me to the room.
I pulled it together after a few minutes.

Jean knows the tumor is re-growing. She doesn't, as far as I know, have the information about how short her time left could be. She said today for the first time "I'm probably going to die." She was stoic.
I'm not going to tell her that information.

Our trip to Florida for next week is cancelled. I got her mom a bereavement fare through American Airlines for Friday (I only say the airline because they were so goddamn helpful in this awful moment, and they deserve credit for it).

My denial mechanism is mostly kicked back in. Everything's going to get better again. The doctors could be wrong.
I don't know who to pray to. I don't know what to think about to take my mind off of this right now; I wish I hadn't started the journal because I was doing pretty well.


It is never too late to be what you might have been. -- George Eliot
Courage to start and willingness to keep everlasting at it are the requisites for success. -- Alonzo Newton Benn