I’ve not been here for so long that I am pretty sure no-one checks in – quite naturally. But I feel like I need a last post (probably) to conclude the story, as it were. I don’t know about you, but I love a HEA (happily ever after) – in books and in real life. Although real life is obviously more problematic.
And there is no HEA for me. Last November, the hospital was a little uneasy at P’s scan but if there was something there, it was too small to see. Rescan. Valentine’s Day we were back – there were tumours which have grown back and increased in all sections of his liver. More aggressive chemo to try and reduce and shrink the tumours to the level that would make an operation possible. Not only did they have to go, they had to stay gone, unlike what happened after the chemo stopped last summer.
We thought the chemo would be less severe this time: last time he was weak from the operation and being in hospital for such a long time. It was worse. He had very unpleasant side effects, the worst was a mouthful of such painful ulcers that eating was a misery. Not to mention that it killed his taste buds. His hair mostly came out (which he says he doesn’t care about, but my heart aches for him). He’s aged 10 years in the last couple of years. My stepson sent me a photo of them a couple of years’ ago that was actually painful to look at, the difference is so marked.
Two weeks ago, we were told the chemo had not worked, other than that the tumours appeared no worse. It is now terminal. If he carried on with chemo he has an average life expectancy of 14-15 months, otherwise it was 3-4 months. He will go back on to the chemo, albeit tweaked a little to try and lessen the side effects. He is determined that he will beat the average – and a lot of well-meaning friends have come to tell them that they’ve ‘heard of someone’ who lived 10 years. I thought that his comparative youth would be a factor in his favour, but his oncologist said no, it’s down to the tumours. He has six.
My life changed absolutely on that day. Whilst I will try to ensure we have as many happy times as possible for as long as he’s well enough, I know I will never be happy again, that my last happy day was already behind me, and I hadn’t even realised at the time. It’s not the future we planned (obviously) – and I’ve lost that too. My whole life is ending – and yet, I’ll be here to feel that depth of pain. I am a coward – I can’t face it and I don’t know how I’m going to get through this. People are kind and they ask what they can do, but the truth is there’s nothing. The future is terrifying and bleak. And that’s the ending of my story.
