Ups and Downs

We just enjoyed an incredible, long weekend with some of our nearest and dearest friends. The conversation was constant, lively, and therapeutic for Faina. A lot of story swapping, a lot of eating, a contribution to the bottom line at Stolichnaya, and an instant shrinking of the distances of time and space. When the last of the guests was dropped off at BWI, instead of a sigh of relief we wondered how the time passed so quickly.

Monday was mostly awful, Tuesday a little less bad, and we shall see what Wednesday brings. Dr. K thought the ascites was back, an indication that the chemo was not being effective. Among his comments, "There are other chemotherapy regimens we can try," "Gastric cancer is a vicious, aggressive cancer," "You've dealt with this disease with an uncommon dignity" and then the suggestion that we meet with our rabbi. It didn't take the interpretive skills of an English lit major to read this as "Put your affairs in order." Soldiering on, our next stop was American Radiology for the tri-monthly CT scan. Somehow their staff must have collectively taken their 100 mg Unhappy pills that morning as everyone we encountered there seemed to be snippier than the previous person. We didn't get the report, but we got a CD of the test and rushed it up to Dr. Esquivel's office at St. Agnes Hospital to see if Faina would qualify for a surgical procedure. We then headed directly home for the appointment with Marianne, the home health care nurse from Hopkins. On the way, a car made a dangerous maneuver, cutting  in front of us then realizing that there wasn't much space in his new lane slammed on his breaks. No accident, but it was one more reminder of the fragility of life and the conversation turned to finalizing our wills. We anticipated a call from Dr. K. reporting on the CT results and telling us if we should come in the next day. It was a draining last day before a new cycle of chemo.

Today was a slight scramble out the door with a side trip to Atholton HS to drop off a well rested Jamie. Give the child credit, in 10 minutes she can be up, brushed, dressed, made-up, fed, and out the door. We get to the oncology center and nurse Allie says she does not have her orders from Dr. K. and that he will be out in 15 minutes to speak with us. She gives us a hint of what he has to say, so it isn't a quarter of an hour mired in deep dread. Dr. K. then appears and says, the bloating is not from ascites, but from an inflamed colon. I never thought an inflamed colon would be considered good news, but here we are. His suggestion, let's not do the chemo this week, give the inflammation a chance to calm down and pick up where we left off next week. We also got a call from Dr. Esquivel's office, the cancer has not shrunk sufficiently to go forward with the surgery. Try again in three months. Dr. K. does not think surgery is the way to go anyway, so should the option appear we will be in the position of arbitrating between doctors opinions. Margo prepared all the makings for burritos, cranked up the MacBook with some mood music, and, when Jamie got back from her rehearsal, we all enjoyed a meal that would have put her in strong position in an Iron Chef competition.